#three old gay people who try to control the player

[variousqueerthings]

wrote a long post about subtle changes i would have put into s3 of ted lasso to set it up as a four-part show, accidentally wrote another post now about potential s4 stuff (but do not have it in me to write out an episode by episode structure post)

but also really the main gist is that why I was initially confused at the 3-season structure (and then I felt right in having felt it should have been longer when I did watch the season, despite liking where it ultimately landed on those final scenes), was that everything barring ted himself felt like it needed a bit more time

if ted ended s3 by making his decision and telling rebecca (either on or off screen, but if it were cliff-hanger I'd say off) and then having all of s4 setting that up while he's in a much better place to help others with their various things after a s3 where he was so in his own head that he wasn't a very good coach for almost all of it -- and then also a story about when he's planning on telling the team

if one could have fully dealt with sam's narrative about being hounded for standing up for his ideals and grounded him more centrally and built up to him joining the nigerian national team, rather than jumping to it, and given proper space to his interpersonal relationships (such as with the woman managing his restaurant, sorry I forget her name rn)

if nate could have had a whole season after being with west ham where he's back with the team, in which he could have, yes, made it up to some people, but also dealt with how it felt to be with west ham and before that, how he was treated by his teammates, his girlfriend, and even his own father

if rebecca could have had that whole season after their manchester win to go "oh wait, I really don't care what my husband thinks of me" while getting to share scenes with both his ex-wife and his current (but also soon-to-be-ex) wife, showing the three of them in a supportive space recovering from being in a relationship with a manipulative, cheating, controlling man

if keeley could have a whole season building her company with her new, more financially savvy and more organised friend at her side, barbara, while not centering romantic relationships/having her realise that she really can be okay without one (whether or not she is with anyone by the end, but actually giving it a whole season's worth of time)

if there could be a whole fallout/supportive trend after colin publicly kissed his boyfriend on the football pitch, to really give us more actual delving into what it means to be out as a male football player, and perhaps isaac taking that on himself as both his best friend and team captain, and how that plays out in contrast to perhaps other teams, none of which would have out players

if roy and jamie kind of... I guess continued along the lines they were doing, but really got to get into the former's feelings about being "old" in football terms, but not really that old at all, and the latter's relationship with his father (and yeah, I'm a roy/jamie/keeley fan, so scenes that let the three of them be mutually supportive and effortlessly close with one another)

with trent crimm's own narrative continuing to be that of documenting and pulling together the structure

and all of that with a main storyline on building a women's football team and centering keeley's storyline around that as well (also soooo many gay characters then, for realism 😜 also I know two non-binary football players who play semipro personally, there's more than that, so that could be a storyline too...)

just a bit more time youknow

it would have first of all given a final season that broadens the world they're in more, after a third season that wasn't trying to wrap things up and so maybe gave us a bit more west ham/just football beyond the tiny sphere of richmond

and crucially that things weren't flattened to make them get to the ending faster (things like how some characters had done some really nasty stuff (rupert, jamie's dad), but at some point characters just went *ah well, but I'm over it enough to start moving on,* or how sam never quite got to carry an ongoing dramatic arc that wasn't solved with a handwave that didn't give enough weight to how serious his narrative was, or whatever jade's deal was and how she wasn't nice to nate (and neither was coach beard's gf) and the rushedness of keeley's company and need for romantic partnership to feel safe in herself, etc.)

I really liked the ethos of the show and I enjoyed watching it, but I do not believe that three seasons was the intended structure, and I think if I knew for sure that was the case, I'd be more shrug-and-move-on of some of its rushedness than I am now, where I'm trying to understand what prompted those choices if indeed they were deliberate. because there was a lot of unexplored territory for almost every character, I think especially the characters of colour (nate with how he was treated and sam with his politically deeper storylines) and the female characters (keeley with her business, potentially rebecca with her kinship with bex)

like how the sense8 movie could never in a million years have paid off all the plot that came before, but we're just glad for the catharsis

also lastly, it could have still setup a potential spinoff centering the woman's team entirely, if that was something one wanted to do

#ted lasso #and beard of course leaves his gf also and maybe he and nate find some way to bond over that #beard was never very close with nate #and getting a post-nate-coming-back closeness would have been interesting considering the canon scene that happened #(which i really liked to be clear -- just wanted even more) #i really truly liked this show a lot #it just lacked that final oomph to send it into really great territory #and that was because it rushed its final season rather than having a four-season structure #still dont believe three was the original intent no matter what they say #doesnt make a lick'o sense -- purely honestly because nate had ended s2 on a villain's arc #he deserved a full season of coming to grips with himself and how he's been treated while still in that space #and THEN a season to come to peace with himself #+ ofc s2 ends on that oh dear we've introduced a new enemy football team #basically... time....

[pan-fangirl-345]

Volleyboy Blondie

Summary: There’s a boy that you set to at the community center. Your brother and his best friend are overprotective. You don’t have many friends. You’re about to find out how these three things correlate.

A/N: I don’t even know anymore people, I really don’t. Please ignore the blatant self-projection in these. And ignore the fact that our resident Mad Dog is quite OOC. And yes, the title is supposed to be like that, read and you’ll find out why.

TW: Swearing, low self-esteem, overprotective brother and brother figures, there is some minor violence, but it is well deserved in my opinion, there is a small hint of sexual harassment, but nothing rape-y happens. As always, if I’ve left anything out, please let me now through an ask or a personal message and I will get right on it.

“You’re late,” the boy said, frowning.

“Sorry Blondie, my brother wanted to tell me about how mean his girlfriend is for dumping him,” you muttered, tying your shoes up as he walks over.

The blond boy grunted, watching as you stood and stretched your arms out.

You had learned a while ago that he wasn’t one for words, he just watched you like you were a puzzle that he was trying to figure out.

“Toss to me?” he inquired.

“I wouldn’t be here to do anything else,” you told him, tossing him the ball.

He backed up, bumping the ball to you before he made his approach.

You watched the ball, tracking it with your eyes, then glancing at him, letting the ball glance off your fingers.

You watched as his arm went back, back muscles contracting and rippling against his t-shirt as he slammed it over the other side of the net, the sound resounding through the gym for a moment before he turned to you, eyes shining in a way that told you he wanted another one.

You grinned at him, grabbing another ball from the basket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blond guy, you had never learned his name, sat against the wall, chugging the water bottle you had just handed him.

“You’re good,” he muttered, looking up at you. “You on a team?”

“No,” you admitted, sitting next to him. “Everyone would assume I’m trying to be like my brother. And I really don’t need that right now.”

“You talk about your brother a lot.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard not to,” you muttered. “Considering everyone compares me to him. It’s one of the reasons I like hanging around you. You have no expectations.”

He raised an eyebrow, then said, “Kyoutani.”

“Huh?”

“My name, it’s Kyoutani.”

“And you’re telling me this . . . why?”

He shrugged. “Figured you should know.”

“You can call me (Y/F/N),” you told him, tossing your water bottle into your bag as you checked your phone. “What do you want?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your favorite older brother?” Tooru asked.

“You’re my only brother, older or otherwise. So, I repeat my earlier question. What do you want?” you asked.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the community gym. Why?”

“Is Iwa-chan there with you?” Tooru inquired.

“No, why?”

“You know how we feel about you going places without us.”

“Tooru, I am fifteen, almost sixteen, I’m not the cute little five year old in a skirt that you had to follow everywhere. I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m with a-” You paused. Kyoutani wasn’t really a friend, but he wasn’t a random guy either. “An acquaintance of mine.”

Kyoutani gave a small snort and you rolled your eyes. “Shut it, Blondie.”

“Huh?”

“Not you, moron. I’ll be home in like, an hour, try not to piss Haji off too much while I’m gone alright?”

You hung up before your brother could get another word in, chuckling.

“Oh, I hate him,” you muttered, tossing your phone into your bag again. “You wanna go again?”

Kyoutani nodded, raising to his feet.

“What about you?” you inquired. “You on a team?”

“Kind of,” he muttered, toying with the ball in his hands. “I don’t get along with them.”

“Well, that must suck for them,” you said. “You’re a good player.”

He may have looked like a delinquent, but Kyoutani was a good person, he was just blunt.

“Give me a second, I just need to redo my hair,” you said, pulling your hair out of it’s braid, shaking it loose.

“Want some help?” he asked.

“You know how to braid hair?”

“I have a little sister,” he admitted, moving to run his fingers through your hair, easily weaving the three sections together.

“You must be a great brother, mine makes me pay him to do my hair,” you muttered.

Kyoutani snorted, taking the elastic you handed him.

“Thanks,” you said, toying with the end of your braid. “Come on, if I’m not back within an hour my brother will call Haji, and I don’t need that bloodhound on my ass,” you muttered, making Kyoutani snort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shrugged your jacket on as you headed out of the gym.

“Tomorrow?” Kyoutani inquired.

“You betcha,” you said, smiling at him.

He stood there for a moment, then asked, “Can I walk you to the bus?”

“You don’t have to, it’s not far,” you told him.

“Want too though.” 

“I mean, if you want to I guess it’s okay,” you said, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden.

Your phone buzzing made you sigh. “I’m on my way home, don’t send Haji out.”

“(Y/F/N), it’s Hajime,” Hajime said. “Where are you?”

“I’m walking to the bus stop. I’m literally like, fifteen minutes away,” you said, adjusting your bag.

“Your brother is freaking out.”

“My brother is a little shit,” you told him.

“I know, I’ve known him front, back, right, left, and inside out since we were seven. You’re his sister, he wants to protect you.”

“See, here’s the thing Haji, you’ve both been tailing me like guard dogs since I was- what?- three? You two aren’t going to be around forever. You guys have to stop isolating me,” you told him. “I love you like another brother Haji, but god damnit, you’re both overbearing!”

Hajime sighed, and you could hear Tooru in the background, crying.

“Fuck, was I on speaker?”

“Yup,” Haji replied.

“Fuck my life,” you muttered. “Do damage control, I’ll be home soon.”

You hung up, running a hand over your hair.

“How bad?” Kyoutani asked.

“Don’t ask,” you muttered. “Look, thank you for this. These meet-ups help me as much as they do you. I’ll see you around Kyoutani.”

He nodded, looking slightly shocked.

“What?” you inquired.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, but the tips of his ears burned red and you smiled at him.

“Why are you shy all of a sudden?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “Anyway, thank you for walking me to the station, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kyoutani nodded, making sure you were seated before he headed towards his own home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tooru, Haji, I’m home,” you called, tossing your bag  down as you untied your shoes.

“(Y/F/N)!” Tooru whined, throwing himself at you. “I-I’m sor-sorry!” he sobbed.

“Get off me!” you hissed, shoving him towards Hajime, who grunted.

“Ar-Are we re-really ov-overbearing?” he inquired.

“Yes. Look,” you began. “I love you both, but I don’t have friends. I don’t have a boyfriend. Have you ever wondered why? I can’t make friends with the girls because they’re vultures and they want to get close to the two of you, and most of the guys I know are terrified of the both of you and your team.”

“It’s my job to protect you!” Tooru said, pouting.

“Tooru, this isn’t protecting me,” you snapped, glaring at him. “I need to be able to make my own friends. You can’t keep sending Haji out like a fucking bloodhound when you don’t know where I am.”

“What about that acquaintance you were talking about earlier?”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with this! Only reason I even know him is because I set for him. I only learned his name today!”

“He?”

Tooru had that squinty look on his face when he didn’t like something. And Haji had that look that told you he was pissed.

“Don’t give me those looks,” you snarled. “He wouldn’t touch me like that with a thirty foot fucking pole. He’s too emotionally stunted for that. Besides, if you boys haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly crush material.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” Haji demanded.

“Like, every person in school? I hang out with mostly boys, I get called a slut and whore by the girls, and I’m not feminine enough for most of the boys I hang out with. I’ve been told that the thought of dating me is like the thought of being gay to them. I’m not getting many confessions,” you snarled, crossing your arms over your chest.

Tooru and Haji stared at you for a moment before Tooru asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“And be the little bitch that runs to her big brother and his beefy friend to fix all of her problems? I don’t think so,” you said, scowling.

The three of you stood there for a moment in silence before Tooru made a choked noise, looking close to tears.

Your phone ringing caught your attention and you sighed, rummaging through your bag to find it.

Volleyboy

“Everything okay?” you asked, answering the call.

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you calling? Do you have to reschedule again?”

“No.”

“C’mon, I need a little more info here Blondie,” you told him.

“I wanted to make sure you were home,” he admitted.

“So you called?” you said. “You haven’t called me since we started this whole thing.”

Kyoutani wasn’t one for words, you had learned that a long time ago, and you knew that if you saw him he would be bright red and shrugging.

“Thank you for the concern Blondie,” you told him. “I have to go, I’m talking with my brother, but we’re still on for tomorrow right?”

“Definitely,” he replied.

“Great, later Blondie,” you said, ending the call. 

“Blondie?” Haji questioned.

“I didn’t know his name until today and I had to call him something other than Volleyboy. We had this unspoken deal, I set for him, he spikes for me, and we don’t make small talk. Or that was the deal until Tooru made me late today.”

“Huh,” Hajime muttered. “Well, as long as he doesn’t try anything. Stop with the look Shittykawa!”

“Haji, you keep forgetting that those names apply to me too,” you teased, wrinkling your nose at him. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower and get something to eat, what do you two want?”

“I just want you to be happy, (Y/F/N),” Tooru said, looking sad.

“You’re gonna be waiting a while Ruru,” you told him, using the old nickname you had given him as a child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, (Y/F/N), do you think that you could help us out?” Haji asked.

“Sure, whatcha need?” you inquired.

“Can you refill these and help pick balls up? We need a manager, but no one wants to do it.”

“Ask one of my brother’s fangirls, I’m sure they’d be more than willing,” you muttered.

“No, we tried that. They don’t actually help to manage the team. Most of the guys seem to know you, so we were hoping that you would consider managing for us?”

“I mean, do you guys really want me to be the manager?” you inquired. “I don’t really feel qualified.”

“The guys all love you, and Tooru and I will be here to make sure that they keep their hands to themselves.”

“Wow Haji,” you muttered. “Subtle much?”

He shrugged, looking at you for a moment before he said, “I leave subtle to your brother.”

“Yeah, because my brother is so subtle.”

“So, you in?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Guys, this is (Y/F/N) Oikawa, she’ll be our new manager.”

“So you’re the famous little sister we’ve heard so much about,” Hanamaki said.

“You’ve never met her?” Yahaba inquired.

“Nope, she’s never there when we go over, and she doesn’t come on team retreats,” Mattsukawa said.

“I’m never there because I can barely stand my brother around Haji, I don’t want to have to deal with his melodramatic ass around someone he called the ‘Meme Team’,” you retorted, arms crossed.

“If you were expecting a mini Oikawa, you boys are gonna be disappointed,” Haji said, smirking. “These two are polar opposites.”

“Murder me,” you mumbled. “Tooru, stop hiding in the corner and get your ass over here. This is your team!” you shouted, glaring at him.

“No, you’re pissed, and you scare me more than Iwa-chan does!”

“Hey!” you both shouted, laughing.

“I’m not pissed, I’m irritated because I don’t know how I got roped into this,” you said. “Whatever, it’s not like I have anything else better to be doing.”

You glanced at the clock and grinned. 

“See you fools later, I have someone I need to meet. Tooru, I’ll be home late, there’s food in the fridge, Dad’s working over time, and Mom is working a double shift for one of the women on maternity, so they won’t be home. Takeru is coming tomorrow morning, don’t forget because I have to leave early.

“Haji, make sure he remembers Takeru, and please, for the love all things sacred to our family, do not let him watch any of those alien conspiracy shows he’s a nut-job for. The last time he did that he came into my room at three in the morning sobbing about corn probes or something,” you muttered, throwing your hair up into a knot on the top of your head.

“Stop airing my dirty laundry (Y/F/N)!” your brother cried, pouting.

“Shove it up your ass Tooru, this is my payback for you and Haji following me like angry fucking Pomeranians,” you told him, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you hurried out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were bumping a ball against the wall when Kyoutani walked in.

“Hey Blondie,” you said, catching the ball. “You’re late this time.” You paused when you saw his face. “You good?”

“The captain of the team I’m on came by earlier and wanted me to come back.”

“What did you tell him?” you asked, watching his face. “You said yes! Ha!” you cheered, throwing your arms around him. “I’m proud of you.”

It took a few moments of Kyoutani standing stiffly under your touch for you to realize what had happened.

You practically threw yourself against the opposite wall, cheeks burning. “Sorry, I do that with my brother sometimes. Anyway, I’m proud of you! This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

You could see the ‘but’ in his eyes.

“But?” you prompted.

“This means I have to stop seeing you.”

Your cheeks heated again and you gave a soft smile.

He looked so open about it. He was genuinely upset by the fact that he might not see you again.

“I mean, i-if you’re that worried about it, we could meet up on the weekends? We’ve rearranged our schedules before,” you told him.

Kyoutani shook his head, ears tinged pink again. “How about a date?”

“Are you serious? Is my brother hiding here somewhere? Haji maybe?”

“I . . . don’t think I know either of them,” he said, eyes wide in surprise. “If you don’t want to-”

“No!” you blurted, then winced. “I want to, go on a date with you I mean, but I’m just trying to make sure this isn’t a . . . a prank or something,” you admitted, glancing around, eyes alert. “I’m waiting for someone to post a video or something.”

“Do I really seem like the kind of guy to do that?”

“No, but I’ve learned not to trust people too much.”

“You trust me though,” he reminded you.

You sighed; he did have a point. “This isn’t some sick joke? You actually want to go out with me?”

“Yes?”

“Is it a question now?” you teased.

“No. I do want to go out with you.” He said it with so much conviction, it kind of surprised you. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

You looked at each other for a few moments before you burst out laughing. Well, he was chuckling, but it was close enough.

“C’mon, let’s play,” you said, tossing him the ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“First official day as manager, are you nervous?” Tooru asked.

“No,” you said. “I know most of the boys, and I basically did the gig in middle school, so I think I’ll be all set.”

“You’ll be great Pip,” Haji said. He had called you Pipsqueak until you were a third year in middle school and Pip was something he had started calling you recently as a remembrance to that nickname, despite your numerous protests.

“You guys are acting like parents sending their child off to their first day of school, stop,” you said, shrugging your brother’s arm off your shoulders as you walked into the gym.

“Heads!” someone shouted and you immediately flinched and ducked your head. You turned to see the ball coming right towards you and you instinctively moved your hands into a setting posture, shooting it towards the ace position.

Silence followed as the boys stared at you.

“Pip, you alright?” Hajime asked, the first to break the silence.

“I’m fine Haji,” you muttered. “My brother isn’t the only setter in the family.”

“You can set?” Tooru asked, pure and genuine surprise lining his face as he looked at you.

“Tooru, I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t the only volleyball dork in the family,” you said, tying your hair up. “You also seem to forget that when you used to follow me around, I watched you and Haji. I also played with you guys, when you let me. You weren’t the only ones that liked to play. Let’s put it this way, you’re the sun, and I am the shadow caused from that light.”

“So poetic,” Tooru muttered.

“Tooru, I have to listen to your dramatic ass all the time, I also hear what you say at your games. I’m not a complete moron.” You paused. “Well, not all the time anyway.”

Someone nearby snorted, and you glanced around at his teammates.

“Just leave it be Tooru,” you told him. “Haji, don’t. Say. Anything,” you snarled, pointing at him.

“But-”

“No. We don’t talk about it,” you reminded him.

“Alrighty then, time to continue practice!” Tooru said, clapping his hands with that creepy grin he had around his teammates.

“Good God, he’s gonna be terrible, isn’t he?” you inquired, making Haji snort.

“You have no idea,” he muttered, falling in line with the rest of their team as practice started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was easy to get into a groove with your brothers’ team, easier than you would’ve thought, though it might’ve been because the job was easy to begin with.

“I never would’ve thought Oikawa-san would have a sister like you,” Yahaba admitted during a water break.

“What do you mean?” you inquired.

“I just mean that you seem a lot more like Iwaizumi-san than Oikawa-san.”

“I mean, those two followed me like hellhounds for as long as I can remember, I always liked hanging around Haji because I could ditch him whenever I wanted, I had to live with Tooru.”

“So, you’re . . . you’re really a setter?” Yahaba asked.

“Um, I guess? I’m not on a team or anything, but . . . yeah, I can do it,” you admitted. “And before you ask, no, it’s not because of my brother.”

“I . . . wasn’t gonna ask you that,” Yahaba said.

“Really? As soon as everyone finds out who my older brother is and that I set, they usually assume it’s because of my brother.”

“Being a setter means you learn to read people,” Yahaba said with a shrug. “You learn to apply that to real life too. You don’t seem like the kind of person that would do something just because your brother does it. You seem like the kind of person to do the opposite of what your brother would be doing, just to make him mad.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

He snorted on a laugh, making you smile.

“Any tips?” Yahaba asked. “I’m-”

“The reserve setter for my brother, I know,” you told him. “I’ve watched a lot of your games. You’re good, from what I’ve seen. The only tips I have for you are learn to read your teammates. Oh, and learn how to read the other team. Find cracks.

“Be like water and ice. Think of it like cracks in the sidewalk. That small crack gets bigger and bigger until something breaks. Find the cracks, slip in, and freeze. The more you melt and refreeze, the bigger the cracks get.”

“That’s actually a really good way of thinking about it,” Yahaba muttered. “Most people say ‘find the weak link’ or something.”

“Well, I like to think of it like this; the weak link won’t always break the chain. What if the weak link is the last link? Or the second to last? It weakens the chain, but the rest is still viable. Cracks spread until everything breaks.”

“Huh, I like that,” Yahaba said. “Thank you-” He paused, then said, “I feel weird calling you ‘Oikawa’.”

“You can call me (Y/F/N), it makes it easier,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, I don’t need other teams knowing that Tooru is my older brother anyway. And you don’t have to use an honorific,” you added. “It makes me feel like we’re in a business meeting.”

You shuddered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Yahaba laughed and you smiled at him.

“How come we haven’t hung out before now?” he inquired. “It just seems like we’d be good friends.”

You shrugged. “I mean, I don’t really trust anyone. Girls have been trying to use me to get to my brothers since I can remember, and a lot of the other people I know are terrified of them. More Haji than Tooru, but still.”

“So, you and Iwaizumi a thing or-?”

“If you’re asking me if we’re dating, or if there’s a mutual interest, the answer is a big fat no fucking way. I mean, I had a crush on him when I was like, eleven, but there’s no way we would work, even if I was interested. Besides, my brother would never let anything happen.”

Yahaba watched you for a moment before huffing, a small noise of contemplation.

“Alright guys water break’s over, time to try-”

Whatever Tooru was going to say was cut off by the gym doors opening, a boy walking through them.

He stood there for a moment, ripping a piece off of the bun he was eating as he stared down the team.

“Blondie?” you asked, slightly dazed.

His eyes snapped to you, and something in his eyes softened before the shock took over at seeing you standing in the Seijoh gym.

“Ah, Mad Dog-chan!” Tooru said, grinning at the blond boy, who immediately went on his guard.

“Tooru, stop messing with him,” you snapped.

“Tooru?” Kyoutani inquired, eyes narrowed as he watched the two of you.

“Surprise,” you muttered. “I suppose this means I have some things to explain, does it?”

“Care to explain (Y/F/N)?” Tooru asked, arms crossed.

“Why me?” you whimpered, glaring up at the fluorescent lights in the gym. You sighed, letting your shoulders slump. “Gather ‘round boys, it’s story time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mad Dog is dating my baby sister?” Tooru shouted, high pitched and whiney. 

Hajime hit him on the head and said, “Shut it Shittykawa.”

“Tooru, I am literally one,” you held up a single finger, “year younger than you, shut up. After this he might not even want to go out with me. And besides, this was bound to happen eventually. You can’t scare off every guy, you know. Pretty soon the two of you won’t even be around.”

You leaned against the wall, glaring at your brother.

You had just finished explaining how you had met Kyoutani at the community center one night, trying to get away from Tooru for some piece and quiet, how you had made a silent deal when you saw him trying to spike on his own, how you had gotten closer to him until he had asked you out the other night when Tooru had asked him to come back to the team.

“And I didn’t know she was your sister,” Kyoutani grunted, scowling even more than your brother and Haji combined.

“And that would have made a difference?” Tooru snapped, glaring at Kyoutani, who seemed surprised.

You didn’t blame him. It wasn’t often that your brother was serious about anything other than volleyball, and that seriousness was usually aimed at the other team’s players.

“He wouldn’t have touched me with a 400 foot pole if he had known I was your sister, if not for you then for Hajime,” you answered, trying to hide your wince. You had known that you would’ve had to tell Kyoutani eventually, especially if your date had gone well, but you hadn’t expected this.

“I feel like I’m watching a drama on TV,” Hanamaki muttered to Mattsun, who nodded.

“Fuck this,” you hissed. “Look,” you turned to Kyoutani. “That’s my brother and the bloodhound.” You turned to look at your brother. “That’s the guy I’ve been sneaking out to play volleyball with.” You looked up at the ceiling. “And this is why I don’t have any fucking friends.”

You sighed, running your hands over your hair, trying to keep your composure. You really didn’t need to lose it right here. “Just get back to practice,” you ordered. “We can talk about this later if it’s still an issue.”

“C’mon Loserkawa, we need to get back to practice,” Hajime said, and you shot him a grateful look.

“This isn’t over,” Tooru told you, a serious look on his face as he walked away.

“I am so massively fucked,” you muttered, holding you head in your hands. A small touch on your shoulder made you looked up to see Kyoutani standing there, looking concerned. “Just go practice,” you told him. “It’s okay.”

“I still wanna go out with you,” he said, pausing for a moment before he wandered away.

“Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the practice was over you were sliding your other shoes on, practically running from the gym.

Someone shouted at you, either Kyoutani or Hajime, but you weren’t listening. You wanted some time to think before you talked to anyone about this.

And I didn’t know she was your sister. 

Would it have made a difference if he knew I was his sister? Would he have even let me close if he’d known who I was? Probably not, based on how he reacted to my brother earlier. You thought miserably.

He had said that he wanted to go out with you still. Although that might have been because of all the people there. But . . . Kyoutani also wasn’t the kind of person to put up a show for someone else’s benefit.

You sighed, pulling your hoodie closer around you, trying to draw comfort from it as you wandered.

You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, you were just letting your feet carry you away from the gym and preferably your problems, even if that’s not how it worked.

You heard voices swimming around in your brain, but you didn’t think anything of it until someone’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, jerking you to a stop.

You were expecting Kyoutani or Haji, but there was a stranger holding your wrist in his hand.

“Can I help you?” you inquired.

“You can stop being a bitch and ignoring me,” the man retorted.

“Look dude, it’s been a long day for me, so I apologize if I’m a little spacey, but I have no clue who you are. I owe you absolutely nothing, so let me go.”

“I think not,” he replied. “I think you owe me for ignoring me.”

“Let me go,” you ordered, trying to wrench your wrist from his hand.

“No.”

“Look man, I am not in the mood for this bullshit, let me the go and walk away,” you snarled, tensing.

“I don’t think so bitch.”

“Call me a bitch again, I dare you, you pervy fucker,” you snapped.

“Let go of my girlfriend, you son of a bitch.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Kyoutani striding towards you both, rage evident on his already fierce features.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Her boyfriend,” Kyoutani snarled.

“And I’m her brother,” Hajime snapped, stepping into your line of sight, arms crossed over his chest.

“So, you wanna let me go now?” you asked, stepping on his foot and throwing an elbow into his face.

“You little bitch!” he cried, holding his nose, which was starting to drip red.

“Leave,” Kyoutani snarled, slipping his hand into yours softly, slowing tugging you behind him and Hajime. “Or you have to deal with us.”

The guy snarled, but he backed away, disappearing around a corner.

“What the fuck were you thinking (Y/F/N)?” Hajime snapped, turning to you.

Kyoutani didn’t even say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his- very firm- chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck.

“Hey Blondie, it’s okay, I’m fine,” you murmured, slowly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m fine,” you repeated, glancing at Haji, who had already pulled out his phone to call your brother.

“I should’ve been with you.”

“Kyoutani, it’s okay. I’m the one that left without telling you guys where I was going. Besides, like I said, I’m okay.”

He was tense beneath your fingers as you ran them over his back, trying to calm him down a little bit.

You heard your name from Haji and listened to what he was saying.

“-with Kyoutani, figured she’s in good hands.” He paused to listen to Tooru for a moment before he said, “Shut up Shittykawa. We need to leave her be. I’m coming back home.” He paused again. “We need to trust her Tooru.”

The use of your brother’s first name surprised you, but you figured they were still figuring their own shit out.

“Thank you,” you mouthed when Haji turned towards you again. He nodded, making sure you were alright silently before he headed home.

“Hey,” you murmured, carding your hands through Kyoutani’s hair. “Come on out and talk to me. The bloodhound is gone.”

“I should have been here with you,” he repeated.

“Kyoutani,” you ordered, moving your hands to cup his face, letting him balance out a little more of your weight as you forced him to look at you. “Talk to me.”

He simply stared at you for a moment before he laid his forehead against yours.

“You called me your girlfriend,” you blurted, and he tensed again. You gave a small giggle, kissing his cheek, making him blush. “Don’t get all shy now Kyoutani. Come on, just talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did to finding out that he was your brother. I should’ve handled it better. And I was . . . jealous of Iwaizumi-san.”

“Oh Kyoutani,” you said, giving him a small smile. “You never had any reason to be jealous of Haji. For one thing, he’s my other brother, you know that, and secondly, he’s interested in my brother, even if they haven’t figured that out yet.”

“I just . . . really like you. And it-” He stopped, scowling again.

“It scares you,” you finished. He nodded, making you smile. “You think it doesn’t scare me?”

“You just . . . seem so calm all the time. Even when you’re pissed.”

“I live with Tooru,” you said, enunciating each syllable. “I have to be calm. Look Kyoutani, if you want to go out with me- great! If not- oh well- but I hope we can be friends,” you told him.

“I do want to go out with you,” he practically shouted, wincing at his own volume. “Sorry things got lost in translation.”

“It’s okay, just talk to me next time. No sulky puppy, alright?” you demanded, flicking his forehead lightly.

He nodded, then scowled. “’M not a puppy.”

“Sure you aren’t,” you teased. “I think this is the most we’ve talked in the few months that we’ve known each other.”

Kyoutani snorted softly. “I was nervous around you.”

“What? Why?”

“You were this pretty, smart, funny setter. I was used to people avoiding me and being scared. You simply looked at me and smiled.”

“You’re a poet Blondie,” you teased. “C’mon, let’s head back, I think my brother might send out Haji again if I don’t get home soon. Besides, I like talking to you.”

Kyoutani nodded, but he made no move to unwrap his arms from around your waist.

“Or, we could stay here for a little bit,” you said and he grunted. “Okay, we can stay here. On one condition; you have to talk to me.”

“About?”

“Whatever. Everything, nothing, I don’t care. I just want to know you.”

So he talked.

A/N: This is very unrealistic, but whatever. It’s also like, 12:40 in the morning on my end of things and I haven’t slept well lately, so ignore any errors or any imperfections within this imperfection. Stay safe out there my lovelies!

#kyoutani x reader #oikawa tooru x hajime iwaizumi #iwaoi #brother oikawa #kentarou x reader #kyoutani kentarou x oikawa reader #fluff #little bit of angst

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Healer!Draco

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 The Four Doors by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  48845 Tags: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Auror Harry Potter, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Consent Due To Patient/Healer Dynamic, Mind Fucking (Literally), Not Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Where The Falcons Fly by MyNameIsThunder Rated:  Mature Words:  283177 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Seeker Harry Potter, Quidditch, accidental magic, Blood and Injury, Not Epilogue Compliant, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Post-Hogwarts, Scars, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Whump, POV Third Person Limited, Mutual Pining, Power Couple, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Eventual Fluff Summary:  Where the Falcons fly, there’s blood. Where Draco goes, there usually is too. That’s his job, after all – heal morons and the people who get in their way. He could deal with that, he thinks, if only there wasn’t Harry fucking Potter, Seeker, who gets injured a lot even by the Falcons’ standards and seems to have made a habit of inserting himself in Draco’s private life. Draco just wants to heal people – normal people, that is – and do his research in peace. Well, when does he ever get what he wants? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Better Kind of Love by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  25768 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, discussion of injuries, Broken Bones, Injury Recovery, Skele-Gro, Physical Therapy, Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Quidditch, Masturbation, Rimming, Shower Sex, Locker Room Sex, Semi-Public Sex, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  Harry, along with the rest of the Puddlemere United team, is determined that this year will be the year they finally win the Quidditch League Cup. But when a Bludger-induced fall leads to a missed Snitch, broken bones, and an extended stay in St Mungo's, that conviction is put to the test. If Harry wants to have any chance of returning to the pitch this season he has to put all of his faith in his assigned Healer. Which is no easy task when that Healer is Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Meet Cute by rewmariewrites Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4203 Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is a Little Shit, Banter Summary:  It may be important to note that Draco Malfoy meets the love of his life when he is twenty-five years old. Well. In the spirit of fairness, that statement is both technically inaccurate and incredibly vague. Draco isn’t just twenty-five years old, when he meets the love of his life, he’s also in his fourth year of the Healing Programme at St. Mungo’s, and this isn't actually the first time they've ever met. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor Rated:  Mature Words:  9667 Tags: MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Roadtrips, Music, Implied Sexual Content, on the bonnet of a car, Pining, jealous boyfriend, mentions of Abusive Relationship (emotionally and verbally), First Kiss, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Touch, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020, First Time, Bittersweet Ending Summary:  For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on an international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched Draco going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for Harry though. Maybe for just one night... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All is NOT well... by iStiz Rated:  Mature Words:  65500 Tags: HP: EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Build, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Healer Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Depression, Substance Abuse, Rehabilitation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Mild Sexual Content, vague sexual content, Happy Ending Summary:  The war may be over but all is NOT well. Harry feels lost, the Ministry is still trying to control him, his friendships with Ron is rocky at best, he doesn't sleep enough, and then there's Draco Malfoy. Things haven't turned out quite the way Harry expected them to, but at least he still has Hermione to help him (and maybe some new friends if he can trust letting them into his life). ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding Rated:  Explicit Words:  71753 Tags: Sleep disorders, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in all honesty this has a bunch of pain, problematic therapist/patient stuff, mind healer!draco, auror!Harry, no seriously the therapist/patient stuff is super problematic but welcome to fanfic, Child Abuse Summary:  Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with. Guaritore Christopher Black is an exceptional psychiatrist with a specialisation in sleep disorders. He is also Draco Malfoy in a Glamour. Minister Hermione Granger knows the dangers and the complications, but she needs her best friend back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 oxygen by MaesterChill Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4065 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Smoking, Cigarettes, Talking, Breathing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Minor Character Death, A Kiss, Fanart, POV Second Person Summary:  Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Indebtedness by RecIt_Ralph Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  50685 Tags: HP: EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Slow Build, Fluff and Angst, forgiving Harry, Chaptered, My First Fanfic, Swearing, Snark, Eventual Happy Ending, Second Chances, Getting to Know Each Other Summary:  Of all the Healers in all of St Mungo's - why does Harry always end up with Malfoy? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Best Laid Plans by CreateImagineWrite Rated:  Explicit Words:  10105 Tags: Marriage Proposal, Lust Potion/Spell, Secret Relationship, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Barebacking Summary:  He hadn’t intended to be fully clothed with Harry naked at this point, or to have just made him take an antidote to a poison or have had to Incarcerus him to the bed. But they’ve never had a very normal relationship anyways. And damn him if he’s going to let Ginevra Weasley get in the way of him marrying this man. Fourshot. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Iustitia & Prudentia by skeptique Rated:  Explicit Words:  36302 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Everyone is going to Therapy, Taking their Meds, Calling Their Person, Slow Burn, Procedural That's Fairly Light on the Procedural Part, Canon Content Warnings Apply, brief discussion of infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Discussion of Ongoing Food Related Issues, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Confinement, Pansexual Theo Nott, Case Fic, Mystery, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco Malfoy’s entire life fell apart after the War. He’s putting it back together as best he can with what is available to him. But Harry keeps interfering and won’t leave him alone. When he agrees to be an Auror consultant to help Harry, is it more than he bargained for? The world shifted under Harry Potter’s feet and he found himself lost and purposeless. He anchors himself in uncovering the truth about a dangerous pureblood terrorist group. Is Draco the key to solving these crimes, or is he a distraction? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Do No Harm by Lokifan Rated:  Explciit Words:  58114 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Quidditch, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Recovering From The War And Becoming Better People, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Community: hd_erised, Break Up Summary:  Draco hadn’t planned to end up as team Healer for the Chudley Cannons, but it’s a Healer job, so he’ll take it - and then Potter shows up, the glorious centre-of-attention Seeker, as ever. And someone with a grudge is sabotaging Quidditch teams, and it’s only a matter of time before the Aurors’ eyes turn to Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Prove We're Not in a Rut by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  2140 Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Healer Draco, POV Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Wall Sex, well it's actually against a door, Top Draco, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy Summary:  Draco and Harry are not in a rut. Draco sets out to prove it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary:  St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

#healer draco #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

[mxartcat]

MMMMMMMMMMM

Beetlejuice HLVRAI AU!!!!!!

Bubby and Coomer are newlyweds who recently retired to their dream home in the countryside away from annoying people who pester them about their domestic lives. They kinda wanted a kid at some point but they fear they’re too old at this point… and dangerous because they be rowdy.

Speaking of rowdy, their happy home life comes to an abrupt end when a playful scuffle in the old house turns deadly. A tumble down the broken stairs paired with uncontrollable pyrokenisis when startled burns the house down with them inside.

They “wake up” quite a while later with pained groans as they dust themselves off, thinking they just woke up from being knocked out. A regular occurrence. But this time something is wrong. Their home looks the same… yet completely different. Like someone came in while they were out and teeter all their stuff out and replaced it with cheesy white southern suburban mom decor.

Enter Deborah Freeman and her son Gordon Freeman and his son Joshua Freeman. Debby bought the land with the money she got from her late husband’s death and paid for the house to be rebuilt and restored. Her 27 year old son and his son has recently moved in following a terrible divorce from a rather abusive jerk and being fired from his dream job because of a work related accident. Tack on the recent death of his father and being forced to live with his controlling mother again and that leaves poor Gordon severely depressed.

Bubby is the first to try and fight the strange woman in his house. But upon realizing he can’t touch them and Coomer pointing out the more obvious changes… they come to the realization that they’re dead with a dawning dread.

They watch this annoying woman stomp through their home and go through their old things with her clearly not all there son for a few days with growing rage, the kid is okay and kinda cute but the bitch and the guy need to GO

In comes a new player in this fucked up game, an antagonistic demon that promises them help with their endeavor… for a simple price. They have to help him get one of these breathers to say his name.

Antics ensue with increasing hilarity and annoyance from all parties.

The three of them almost give up… when one day the crazy bitch leaves for the day with the kid to go shopping and Gordon is left alone at the house. He can finally let out a sigh he’s been holding for weeks now, deflating a little as he sits in the living room starring at his hands for a while.

Bubby drapés himself dramatically over an armchair as he loudly complains about the situation, sits in another chair across from him equally as frustrated but not as vocal. Benrey is busy messing with a few curls of Gordon’s hair, confident this adorable breather can’t see any of them like most can’t.

A knock at the door has Gordon slowly getting to his feet to answer it, inviting in his friends Tommy and his bf Darnold. They all get seated in the livingroom with hot cups of tea, unknowingly booting the angry dead gays from their seats, but this is when the three specters get the shock of their unlives.

Gordon is venting to his friends about the past couple weeks. And the main reason he hasn’t been improving any mentally is not only because of his mother, but he fears he’s going insane. He vividly describes Bubby, Coomer, and Benrey to his friends and even seems to glance at them as he does.

He can see them. And he’s been able to see them for some time. But because they are constantly antagonizing and haunting him to get him to leave… he believes they’re figments of his imagination. A form of creeping psychosis or something.

His friends can’t do much to comfort him but they try until they have to go. Alone again Benrey is the first to slide up to Gordon with that shit eating grin of his and speaks to him for the first time. Of course Gordon tries to actively ignore him, but when Coomer and Bubby join in he finally snaps and tells them to fuck off while curling up on the floor to try and shut them out.

It works for a while. Starting the next day tho the tactics change a little from trying to drive Gordon and his family insane or out or something to… talking. It starts with Coomer. Gordon has to clean out the basement and finds some of the salvaged boxing gear. The dead old coot starts reminiscing to himself about the good old days, but is surprised to see Gordon listing. He even speaks to Coomer for the first time, asking more about it all. They bond a little over that and Bubby gets dragged in when he comes to see why Coomer is shouting and sounding like he’s in a fight. He’s just very animated when retelling old tales of the ring and the shit he and Bubby would get up to in their glory days.

From then on, when he’s alone, Gordon would happily chat with Bubby and Coomer, the three of them becoming more and more friendly… while he actively goes out of his way to ignore Benrey and his weird and creepy advances and hurtful teasing to the point the demon is sure Gordon can’t actually see him like he thought he could.

So, Benrey do what Benrey do and he goes to mope on the roof, killing crows and pigeons with his freaky demon powers as he hums an annoyed and sad tune. He’s sure the curse will never be lifted now…

But, what he doesn’t know is that uhhhh… while he was up here having his own little potty party, the tension in the house has gotten a lot thicker between Gordon and his mom. Thank god Joshua is deaf and likes to play in his room more often than not because dear god does that woman tear into Gordon for every little thing. What set her off? Gordon was too scared to ask but he was left shaking by the time she calmed down enough to hiss out a single threat and leave.

Probably has something to do with Gordon being “lazy” and “unmanly” and all that toxic shit because he is currently unemployed and too depressed right now to do much of anything lately. No job, can’t act like a maid and clean the house the way she likes, talks too much, doesn’t talk enough, his long hair looks unkempt, and no wonder why his ex acted the way they did with a layabout washout like him…

“I’m surprised [redacted] didn’t do worse.”

Fucking caused his arm to get amputated.

Yknow, abusive mom shit.

So after a heavy cry and when he’s in that weird numb phase, he heads up to the roof. To get some fresh air, to be alone, to fee at one with the night sky and the breeze… to contemplate just stepping of the roof and ending the suffering once and for all…

Gordon lets out a frustrated groan, the bubbling irritation cutting through his fog as he hears Benrey loudly rant about his plight.

“Shut the hell up, man! We’ve all got problems, you’re not special.”

“Huh-wha? You can- you see- you can see me?”

“See you, hear you, want to fucking deck you in the goddamn face for messing with me…”

-LOUD GASP-

“A FRIEND!”

“No-“

Fuckin musical number here

Bubby and Coomer have been looking for Gordon ever since things have calmed down, they were looking after the bab during the fight, but now the angry old ghosts are concerned old ghosts.

Hell yeah gordon reluctantly agrees to marry the demon if he can fuckin off or scare his mom shitless or something. But only as a last resort because apparently the two old ghosts aren’t as useless as they once thought.

The deus ex machina of the story is Tommy believing Gordon because he’s secretly into the paranormal stuff plus his dad isn’t human so he kinda crashes the “wedding” with his dad who basically spritzes Benrey with a squeeze bottle of holy water like he’s a fucking cat.

“This is a slow burn fic… not marriage at first sight…”

All in all, in the end Gordon’s mom dies of natural causes and he gets the house and apparently a heafty inheritance from his dad his mom was hiding from him so he lives happily ever after in the mini mansion sized house with his son, his two gay roommates who are slowly restoring their home, and a demon who is certain they are at the very least dating if not engaged.

Gordon doesn’t deny it but he won’t confirm it either.

#cat mews #hlvrai #hlvrai beetlejuice au #beetlejuice #beetlejuice au #frenrey #soda bois #boomer #-VIBRATES- #long post #fic idea? #cw amputation #cw abuse #cw suicide

[victimhood]

The one in which the Euros 3rd place playoff is abolished after Italia 1980, and then restored at short notice for Italia 2028, making it the historic occasion in which a whole country cockblocked their captain Nicolò di Genova.

It is June 1980. The European Championship is taking place in Italy. It is the first edition of the tournament with eight teams, divided into two groups. The winners of each group move on to play in the final, and the runners up of each group move on to battle for third place.

It is the final edition of the Euros to have the third place playoff. With dwindling attendances and television viewers, UEFA deems the fixture unnecessary for future editions of the tournament. Italy hold Czechoslovakia to a 1-1 draw, and the match is decided on penalties. The final outcome? 9-8 to Czechoslovakia.

For as long as it has existed, there has been vocal opposition to the third place match. There are those who question its purpose, who see it as a meaningless extension of the tournament for advertisement money. A kinder commentary on offer is from those who see it as cruel to make losers play yet another competitive fixture, for little to no reward. Just think of the fourth-placed team—they played better than the rest of the competition except three—yet they must go home with the bitter memory of having lost twice.

On the other camp, there are those who recall with great fondness the third place match of the 2002 World Cup between host nation South Korea and Turkey. If that doesn’t work for you, what about the consolation it offered to the host nation in the 1990 World Cup, a breakout tournament for Italy’s Roberto Baggio?

Now we skip to June 2028. The European Championship is once more taking place in Italy. There are twenty four teams divided into groups, followed by a knockout stage. There is no third place fixture on the schedule. The much-beloved Italian captain takes his team on a blistering dream run, in front of an adoring home crowd, beating a well-regarded Portugal and incumbent holders Belgium along the way. He has declared his intention to retire for good, once this tournament is over.

Picture this: you are Italy. You play England in the semifinal in Napoli, at the Stadio San Paolo, also known as the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona. You arrive in the stadium, or you watch from home, full of hope, with faith in your captain and your squad. Your team scores one at the 20th minute. Perfect opening. England try but they can’t get past the deadbolt across goal, past your much vaunted defensive line. At the 63rd minute, Foden puts one past your goalie, but VAR rules it offside. At the 89th minute, the scoreline is still 1-0 and you’re nearly through, and some egregious fans are already cheering, and then Foden gets it in for real in a stroke of sheer luck. The ball hits the crossbar but somehow bounces downward into goal. The game goes into extra time, and then to penalties. The final result? England wins 4-3 on penalties. This is a brutal game. At the end of your match, your captain sheds tears and apologizes for not being able to do more to push the team through to the finals. No! You want to scream. Caro Nicolò, il nostro capitano, it’s not your fault. You have done so much for us. You begin to blame yourself: it’s us, it’s our fault. We dared to dream too early. You were so busy dreaming of your beloved captain raising the trophy that you forgot the game wasn’t over. In fact, even before this semifinal you were already dreaming of the trophy. This is how fate punishes you. You hate to see him end his career this way. He didn’t let you down, you let your captain down! Can we do this one over? You’ll do right by your captain this time.

Picture this: you’re the president of UEFA, and the tournament is hosted in your home country. It would have been the honor of honors, to award the winner’s medals to your compatriots. The papers are raging over the match outcome: England squeaked through on a razor’s blade, and Italy were the more inspired team. The fans are out in the streets. The people have spoken! Let us bring back the third place match! Let us see our captain off with dignity and honor! Your colleagues say: this is preposterous. We got rid of it years ago, because of Italia 1980. But does anyone really remember why? The advertisers tell you they’re willing to pay. One extra match means extra revenues. Worse things have happened in the pursuit for money. What’s the harm in a consolation match? An emergency meeting is called. Who’s playing in the second semifinal? France and the Netherlands. Both their feds agree to the third place match. From the next tournament onwards, there’ll even be a sweet cherry of a coefficient bonus—all the feds agree to this, but it would not be fair to the rest to apply it this ongoing tournament (and you hear minor grumbles from the FIGC, FFF and KNVB, who think they should be compensated for the inconvenience). No matter; the people have been given what they want! Another football match in the grand machine of things! The meeting takes so long that France beats the Netherlands 3-2 in the meantime, and now someone has to do the unpleasant job of telling the players. Were any of them consulted in this affair? What a preposterous concept. That’s not how UEFA works. UEFA says jump and they say how high.

Picture this: you are Nicolò Di Genova, and you’ve played the final match of your professional career. It did not end in the way you wanted, but such is life. You are ready to put your former self in the grave. You say goodbye to your treasured teammates, and the very next morning you check out of the training center to make your way to Turin, to see your fidanzato in the semifinals. Well, he crashes out too, his downfall orchestrated by that paraculo of your club teammate, Sébastien of the number 23. And so it is England vs France in the final, to be played in Italy. The thought of it turns even the strongest stomach of any citizen of this noble country. The only silver lining to this cursed final lineup is getting to whisk the love of your life off into the secluded countryside, and maybe with a few rounds of passionate lovemaking you can even forget the pain of loss.

You’re in the car. You just picked up your inamorato from his team hotel. You want to push him into the backseat and blow the brains out of him but you have better self control than that.

“How does retirement feel like?” he cracks a joke at you.

“You know full well my plans,” you return cheekily.

You’re driving off into the E70 when your phone rings. It doesn’t stop ringing so you pull over to take the call.

It’s your national team coach. “They just restored the third place match. Can you come back to the training ground?”

Who agreed to this? Your mind is reeling from the preposterousness of it all.

“They love you, Nichi. The people want you back.”

You exchange a look with your lover. Now his phone is ringing too. It’s his coach.

Due to this unfortunate turn of events you end up having an argument with your lover. You are principled, and having principles means not giving in to this total farce of a circus show, the third place match. Your lover is an incurable romantic, and pleads on behalf of your people. They did this all for you—show them some love in return. And what was the meaning of the past 31 years of your life again? You have already given them everything.

If only the people of Italy knew how much they had to thank Yusuf Al Kaysani. It’s because of him—it’s because of his beautiful deep brown eyes that glisten with all the stars of this universe that you cave and you agree.

“Get out, let’s switch. I’ll drive, and you call your mom and tell her the news.”

How do you begin to articulate how much this man knows the answers in your heart before your brain catches up to the same conclusions?

And so, like Lazarus, on the fourth day of your death you come back to life.

ITA vs NED

Picture this: you’re the cameraman, in the tunnel. The teams are lining up. The two captains emerge from the dressing room and compliment each other on their good looks with wry smiles. Some good natured ribbing, you think. They’re old friends. They played together for eight years at the same club. The Italian captain puts his hands on the Dutch captain, and then, like magnets, his hands seem incapable of leaving the Dutch captain’s back. You start to feel uncomfortable, like you’re seeing something that you shouldn’t be seeing. You look around. Everyone else in the double file of blue and orange is just chatting away, acting normal. Maybe...it’s just your imagination? You train your camera on the chatting crowd, giving the captains space. The match officials appear, taking the lead in front of both teams. You get in position for the money shot, following the two teams out of the tunnel and into the adoring crowd.

Picture this: you have never missed a single football match your grandson plays in. So when there’s a surprise third place match announced, you have to bail on karaoke night with the girls to watch the match on tv. Your friends don’t watch football, but if they do, they watch for the “hot guys on the Italian team”. Oh yeah, he’s playing Italy, you tell them. Feel free to come over to my place, if they don’t mind your oldest son and your rowdy grandchildren. Karaoke night swiftly becomes football night. There is an argument between Hamza and his dad over the pointlessness of the third place playoff. So...your family has been behaving in an unusual manner for several months now, and you suspect it’s because your grandson said he is gay. The papers here don’t report it, because they still want to claim him to some extent, but you have noted that the coverage is more conditional than before. You don’t live under a rock, and you’ve seen the news on YouTube even if no one around you is prepared to talk about it. As the two teams walk out of the tunnel and onto the pitch, you notice the Italian captain letting his hand slip from your grandson’s back, and Hamza suddenly jumps in front of the TV screen to adjust the volume.

“What the heck are you doing?” Mehdi, Hamza’s father and your eldest son, yells.

“The audio was...wonky,” Hamza replies sheepishly. “But I think it’s okay now.”

The match begins. At a corner kick, the Italian captain practically plasters himself all over your grandson, and it’s Hamza messing with the TV remote again, this time accidentally switching channels. Mehdi slaps him in the back of the head. You think that maybe it’s time you called Ibrahim. Someone needs to tell you the truth they’ve been so bad at hiding. Your grandson is not just gay, he seems to have a lover, and it’s that evil-eyed captain, the man who curses all who cross him.

Picture this: you’re a fan from the friendly town of Muggenbeet, watching from the San Siro. You came all this way to support the Oranje and they had to concede that final goal to France in front of your face. Sore and in denial about your loss, you start to make jokes about Waterloo to cope, handing the French off to the English. And then—out of nowhere, UEFA announces that they’ll restore the third place match. You think it’s the most shameless attempt for the host country to award themselves something ever. But, you know, does anyone really want to watch an England-France final? No. Never. For forever. We hate them both. It’s not football. It’s a circus of clowns. The viewership for this third place match is through the roof, higher than for your semifinal vs France. Let’s just treat this as the real final. What a galaxy-brained idea. Your country could steal it from the hosts—no hard feelings to Italy. You’ve enjoyed the pizza and the pasta, maybe it would be fun to crush their team like little peppercorns to sprinkle on your food. Based. Now you want a cacio e pepe after the match. Wait, you’re not in Rome, where the real (fake news!) final is. Boo. There is a corner, right at the end where you are sitting. Poepjes is taking it. Dekmijn and Blootgat are running up. Your captain is being felt up by the Italian captain. (No literally, that guy isn’t even looking at the goal? He’s just...pressing himself against your captain? Why are his hands encircled around Al Kaysani’s waist like so?) Anyway, the ball pings between the Italian keeper and Blootgat, and then it flies into Di Genova’s rather shapely calves...and bounces into the goal.

Uhhhhhh, THANK YOU? Grazie mille Nicolò Di Genova!!!! You gave us one goal!!!

The Italian fans must be flabbergasted. Isn’t this the dude’s retirement match? Or whatever. Who knows. Italy is a place of the greatest contradictions, so you’ve been told. But you’ll take what you can get. You kinda feel bad for the guy, who has buried his face in his hands. Maybe...you should cheer for him. And so...the lot of you, the orange lot, sitting in the Curva Sud, you start singing for the Italian captain. Nicolò Di Genova! There’s only one Di Genova!

The third place match is the most lawless ninety minutes in the historical timeline.

Picture this: you’re an Interista and season ticket holder. And of course you support your national team. You were heartbroken when the England keeper denied Marcuzzi to progress to the finals. You cried when your captain cried. And then, out of nowhere, they said, let’s bring back the third place match. The finals are in the Stadio Olimpico, so...maybe let’s have the third place match in the San Siro? You score a ticket at your usual seat. You get to see your captain one more time before he rides off into the sunset? What more can you ask for? This is romance of the highest order. The San Siro loves Nichi, of course all the staff and volunteers come together to make the event happen in a matter of days. You can’t believe this is happening. And then...your captain opens the scoring with an own goal. The Dutch fans are singing for him. What do you do? Well, if you can’t beat them, join them—you can sing louder for your captain! He’s your captain! And you know, their captain, he’s kinda your guy too, because Sempre Inter. Revenge is served, sweet and cold like a scoop of gelato, when your captain heads in the equalizer. The crowd goes wild. He’s taking this match seriously, but you knew he always would—that’s why you love him. He could ask for your firstborn and you would gladly give it up. You can always trust your capitano. There is a penalty call in the second half of the match and his teammates give it to him—a little unorthodox—but like a deadly sniper your captain sneaks a cool and calculated one past the Dutch keeper. You cheer. Does it count as a hat trick when you’ve scored at both ends? What a scoreline to retire to!

Picture this: you’re Yusuf Al Kaysani. You just lost in the third place match, a match widely panned as the least necessary match in a tournament by those who don’t know better. And yet, the third place match is the purest expression of love for the beautiful game. All other matches are clouded by the temptations of fame and fortune. The third place match you play for love and honor. You watch from the sidelines as your boyfriend leads his team to collect the medals, from none other than Paolo Maldini. Maldini, who’s doing an admirable job as UEFA President. Who knows where and how they got these medals at short notice—sometimes this country pulls miracles like a rabbit out from the magician’s hat of chaos. Everyone in the stadium is acting like this is the final. It’s not—it’s something a little better, a match born of love, played for love, with nothing to win and nothing to lose.

There is no trophy to lift, so Nico’s teammates lift him. They’re yelling for you. You’ve played with and against at least 90% of that team. Come join us, the men in blue say, and everyone forms a circle, arm linking arm, bouncing to the music. There are no losers here—your whole team is invited to the celebrations. The Dutch fans are singing: Second place! Second place! Let’s pretend we’re second place!

Let’s be real, for this one night, in this exact stadium, there’s only one captain, and the ones in the know push you towards him. Here’s your man, the unspoken acknowledgement. But you know your place—this is not your night. This night is for him. It’s for the country that loves him, and for him to say one last goodbye. Daniele Pirozzi jumps on the captain’s back, and the captain carries him for a while, laughing away. Pirozzi, whom you spent countless hours training how to read the field, in a fashion after yours. And then there’s Boselli, Marcuzzi, Poepjes and more. From one generation to another, the baton is passed. Nico, look around, these are our boys, as good as any. They’ll be better than us, and we are happy to see it, for the love of the game. Pirozzi jumps off the captain’s back and jumps onto you, asking you if you want to lift the captain together. You laugh and agree. On the count of three, uno, due—

Picture this: you’re Nicolò Di Genova, and you’re sitting on the shoulders of your protegé and your lover. Here we can mark the passing of the guard—tonight you are unburdened and the only thing that’s left, you realize, is love. Yusuf was right. Look, look how much they love you. Even San Paolo did this for you. Could you ever have denied all of them this? You almost screwed it up at the beginning, but perhaps God was just reminding you to take your responsibilities seriously. You are but a servant of the game and this ground is your ground, your hallowed ground, the church of your sins and glory.

It’s the final competitive match of your career, and you get to walk off the field, arm in arm with the love of your life, cheered on by a country you gave everything to.

Now, for the rest of your life to begin.

(chapter 106: nel blu, dipinto di blu, of The Beautiful Game)

#the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #this is fanfic!! #football!AU #soccer!AU #this chapter cracks me up each time #tog: the beautiful game #tog fc

[thoughtsonargentdawn]

On the potential of greener pastures.

While I don’t see the need to beat the dead horse that is the incelery of Blizzard Entertainment’s treatment of women and gay men - still holding out for the claims of transphobia, don’t worry it will be there - One thing I have noticed lately is the increasing willingness of long term WoW players moving to other realms and universes of fantasy.

But the question, is it the right thing to do?

Obviously no one reasonable to advocate for you to stay playing something you find uncomfortable - that is insanity and inhuman. But, is Tamriel, Eorzea or the Galaxy Far Far Away really the type of place that the average Argent Dawn player will feel at home in? I’ve had many discussions with my fellow CoAD team friends and we all have our opinions on the matter. While we all agree that as a creative medium, we as players should reclaim World of Warcraft as something that works for us all - not all of us are particularly comfortable in remaining on the game considering what type of behaviour paying for that subscription enables. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- So first up on the list. Tamriel,the main setting of the Elder Scrolls universe. As a whole I would say the Elder Scrolls Online thematically matches many popular brands on Argent Dawn. It ticks the boxes of House/Noble Roleplay, Military, Intrigue and “Race War Now!” - all fairly popular areas of roleplay on Argent Dawn. ESO also boasts a far more vigorously designed world compared to current WoW, a considerably more consistent lore and player housing that is very generous. The downsides? There always are downsides... ESO is shackled with an insular community that much like Guild Wars 2 - another former contender to WoW - has a somewhat small town Alabama mentality towards new players. This is also combined with a recurring problem of a number of players using their characters to effectively further their own real life politics or ideologies. In particular the crypto-fascists are very drawn to the Aldmeri Dominion faction, with the prominence of the Thalmor - yes the same elf supremacists from Skyrim - being a key factor. Thanks to blatant racism being a canonical factor of the setting many have gotten away with effectively using their character as a smokescreen. Alternatively the Neo-Roman Imperials also are a popular second choice for your standard chauvinistic “ew women” basement dwellers who would shrivel at the first touch of a real woman. Community issues aside, ESO also has system problems with a very awkwardly designed UI that is unintuitive to someone used to the traditional hotbar system present in many MMO games. Perhaps a minor problem in the long term as you get used to it but be prepared for heavy frustration and awkward handling. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Second up we have the supposed rising star of the genre, in the gleaming world of Eorzea, the primary setting for Final Fantasy 14. The setting is very conducive for Adventure type RP in particular, but by no means limited. The worldbuilding of Eorzea is very elaborate, with analogues to many real world cultures being present, Norse, Franco-German, Middle English, Levantine/Mediterranean and Far Eastern with smaller groups being present too. The lore is watertight, with very few inconsistencies - the few are merely a player issue of doing class quests in reverse order to the story quest mostly - and the setting is shown rather than explained through out of universe books. Player housing is rather advanced as well, with both personal and guild varieties being present in four capital cities so far.

Things are not always sunny however. Some glaring errors are present in the game. The UI and general intuitiveness of the systems present are incredibly dated and arcane. This is likely due in part to the need to keep things workable for the console players, and probably Square Enix not understanding their playerbase, especially in the West. In addition, due to how the story is the main system of progression, for those wanting to roleplay with a full understanding it is effectively mandatory to do the main story questline to completion before taking part in substantial or heavy roleplay. Finally and probably the most glaring problem is the issue of the community itself. While the general projection is that the FF14 community is very welcoming and kinder than the WoW community, this is only really applicable to the US servers. Both Crystal and Primal - the main ones - are highly active, busy and brimming with both helpful people and roleplay, so much so it spills out into the open world and cities. Crystal in particular is the most analogous to “golden age” Argent Dawn. The only major issue is the “problem” of ERP being quite acceptable and open in the games RP community, no weirdly KKK cosplaying attempts to shut it down will work here, unfortunately for some. That said it can be ignored and the players soliciting can be reported if they persist - and square enix is very good at customer support. However, the European servers are a whole other beast. Light has no roleplay of any major or notable amount, and half of the servers on it are not even populated. Outside of Lich, Shiva and Odin there are scant few players around. Chaos has more people on it, but the wrong kind of people. I have spoken to a now silly number of people on Crystal and to a lesser extent Primal giving abject horror stories they have brought from the Chaos server group. Most of the RP happens on Omega, with some smaller level on Moogle and Ragnarok. Though to call it RP is generous. Their “roleplay” consists of generally playing self-inserts in Second Life tier social roleplay. Those few who engage in actual roleplay often find themselves ostracised or even - subtly - harassed - remember, square enix are very good at customer support - for trying to roleplay within the setting they are in. It is no surprise then that there are more European players playing on the US server groups than on their own. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally the old man, though potentially most balanced of the three is the well established Galaxy Far Far Away - the setting of Star Wars: The Old Republic. With a colossal lore from both in game and the extended Old Republic universe itself the game has tremendous potential for all manner of RP, from your traditional Sith or Jedi RP to space Criminals, Military, space Researchers/Academics, Political RP and most things in between. The Stronghold System, while dated compared to the others does allow for expansive and varied environments to do both public and private roleplay within, with a whole catalogue of venues being available for perusal. Besides that, the planets themselves are highly expansive and massive in terms of scale, easily twice the size of major zones in WoW often with a variety of environments that make the planets seem like an actual world, or part of at least. Hoth really does have the sensation you are on a frozen tomb in the Outer Ring. The downsides of the game however are rather heavy. Roleplay is almost entirely guild centric, though not hidden away by any means. Competing “headcanons” have been know to create problems, but as the Galaxy is big enough it really boils down to a matter of taste rather than sociopathic cult leaders attempting to control the roleplay for everyone. In addition, the system of the game are woefully clunky, with the worst customisation for characters present, even if the transmog system is better than WoW’s. Thankfully the new expansion for it is coming soon which promises to revamp both character agency and customisation and fix systems that are horrendously out of place in 2021. Finally the other main issue of TOR is the presence of the free to play, but pay and get more model. Freemium is neither the F2P that ESO offers or the simple subscription model FF14 offers.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

With all that said, each game has its flaws and perks. Considering there loudest voices seem to be indicating either a shift towards ESO or FF14, it will be interesting to see if these become permanent converts - with all the moral grandstanding about how terrible Blizzard is - or they will quietly slink back to Azeroth once the dust settles and nothing sadly is done about the appalling corporate problems in Blizzard. I personally will remain engaged on Argent Dawn. WoW itself is a product that is shaped by its community more than its sleazy developers and strangulating Blizzard over it is realistically likely to cause more harm long term. Besides, how can we reclaim the setting for the players if we all decide to jump ship?

#roleplaying #World of Warcraft #Final Fantasy XIV #The Elder Scrolls Online #Star Wars: The Old Republic #community #argent dawn eu

[symphonicscans]

Fujimi Orchestra - Wandering Violinist (Book 2, Part 1)

Author: Akizuki Koh   Illustrator: Keiko Nishi (Read Book 1 Here)

Content Warning! 18+ Yaoi/BL/Soft Noncon This volume doesn’t have rape per say, but there are references to what happened in the first volume, so just in case I’m still providing a warning. Nothing is super explicit. Also, if you want to start with this book there is plenty of recap throughout the book to catch you up on characters and situations.

And we’re onto book 2! This book also has two parts, so hopefully I’ll have the second done in the next few weeks.  If you want to read on Google Docs: https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSuh6ZZf--fQVn8mkSKkovlnZgIfKcD0vL1dmNRBBo2xVNMPw3EHBpNChs0vW4zq5qymXWQcZsvZmib/pub#ftnt1

Part I : Wandering Violinist

I have no apartment… no roost… not for tonight. I looked around in the hot and humid summer night; I couldn't even mumble because I was completely stunned by the situation. If I had to guess at the statistics, I’d say that the Fujimi-cho neighborhood -- where 80% of the residents live in apartments -- is like a ghost-town every year around this time. This is because there are many brave people who insist that they celebrate the ‘Bon Festival in my hometown,’ undeterred by the hustle and bustle of expensive flight tickets or the hellish rush to return home. It kills two birds with one stone: they make their dutiful family trip, and they don’t have to pay for accommodations when they get there. 

Actually, I — Yuuki Morimura — was one of those people. The reason I say ‘was’ is because I had just returned to my dear home-town after a two year absence on one such obligatory trip. I’m 23 years old and a music instructor at a public high school, as well as a violinist and concertmaster of the Fujimi Citizen’s Philharmonic, also known as the ‘Ni-chome Philharmonic’ or just ‘Fujimi.’ I seem to be considered a quiet and serious person because of the glasses I’ve worn since junior high, and often mistaken as younger than my age thanks to my slim body and feminine face (that I’m not so pleased with); I actually think I’m a pretty assertive person. I moved to Tokyo for music school, and then Fujimi-cho, which has become my second home ever since. 

Since my mother passed away, Fujimi feels even more like my second home. So as I returned from my three-day ‘homecoming’ trip and smelled the familiar scents of Fujimi, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I arrived before Fujimi’s rehearsal day, just after nine o’clock in the evening. Many of the shops in Fujimi Ginza around the small train station were already closed, each shutter with a sign on the door that said they were closed for tomorrow’s Obon holiday; well, as far as the rest of the country is concerned, tomorrow is the real Obon holiday. I took advantage of the fact that I work at a school with summer vacation to beat the rush of people returning home. This was always my trick that I used in the summer when I would go back home to the country. I would take care of my obligations before the proper Bon Festival and spend the three days when Fujimi-cho was quiet, playing the violin in my empty apartment building. It was the only thing I enjoyed in the summer, as I don’t have any other hobbies.

Now the steel frame of the building was exposed to the sky, and underneath my feet was rubble that seemed to be made from the collapsed walls, along with black trash that must have been furniture. I had entered the alley and turned the corner as usual, and saw the scene that was now in front of me; it was a total loss fire. Both my building and the one on the other side of mine were at least 80% burnt down. I scratched my head and turned to the right. The liquor store on the corner was still open.

“Excuse me, good evening!” A lady came out while using a fan. She looked me up and down and made a sympathetic face. “Ah, the Miyajima apartment building over there burned down yesterday evening, I heard about it on the NHK news,” she said.

“I didn’t hear anything about it, I was back at my parents’ house.”

“Oh, you lived there?” The woman scratched her cauliflower-like permed head with the handle of her fan, probably because she was uncomfortable dealing with a person she didn’t know. “That’s terrible. The fire spread quickly and the firefighters didn’t show up for a while because it was right in the middle of rush hour, you know.”

“Um, did anybody...die?” 

“It was a blessing that you weren’t there, the people who were left were burnt to a crisp. They were all dead by the time the firemen got there.”

“I see…”

“I heard it started from tempura oil. Yamamoto-san on the first floor was the origin of the fire. His wife always looked very careless.”

“Ah...Thank you,” the lady seemed like she wanted to keep talking, but I hadn’t recovered enough from the first round of information to keep up with more rumors. I bowed my head and left the store. The only question for now was where I could sleep tonight… I wondered if there were any hotels in this town. I remembered seeing a few love hotels, but as I walked towards the station I realized I needed to find something else: money. I didn’t have any. 

I put down my travel bag and violin under the streetlight and checked my wallet. No matter how many times I counted it, there was only 3,000 yen. Naturally I didn’t have much left, since I had given most of my money to my sister when I left my parents’ house. It was only fair since I stayed for three days at the place she was living with four children and a husband on the salary of a civil servant, while also maintaining a large country house and fields. I wanted to be considerate, and also make a small gesture since I was now a salaried employee, so I left her with enough money for a meal. But now…

“The bank won’t be closed even on Bon holidays,” I said to myself. No — tomorrow is Saturday! No, wait, I can still withdraw money, my card is in my wallet. So in the morning I can get money. I picked up my bag and case, which was now all I had to my name, and started walking. Oh yeah, my scores, my CD player, the CDs themselves, my clothes, my wardrobe, my futon, my toaster… all burned. Everything, everything…! I was hit with the sound of an oncoming car and rushed to get out of the way. As I looked at the red glow of the receding tail lights, I thought of the word ‘penniless.’ I have a violin, an ATM card, and a few clothes for the time being, so I’m not completely broke, but I’d be grateful if I could at least talk to Ishida-san, the caretaker of Fujimi, who I know I could rely on. But he’s on his usual week-long summer vacation. His whole family left for Hokkaido in the country on the same day that I left, and of course his coffee shop Mozart is also closed.

There were only two other members of the orchestra who knew where I lived: Natsuko Kawashima, a flutist, and the conductor, Tounoin. I had been in love with Kawashima for three years, even proposed to her, but we finally settled as friends in the orchestra. And Tounoin… well, I thought about going to him. He would be more than willing to let me stay, but that ‘willingness’ was the problem. He was gay, fell in love with me, and raped me — though the rape was an accident, as Tounoin had thought I was also gay and that I wanted to have sex with him. I respect Tounoin as a genius conductor, and I also think he’s a very good man, as he was willing to give up his affections towards me and not bring that kind of trouble into our relationship as musicians. 

That’s why… I don’t think I should go to his place to stay. No matter how much help he offers or how strong his willpower is, I don’t want to give him the opportunity to spoil me. He’s a human being too, and you never know when his self-control might slip… I don’t want to ruin the friendship we’ve established. I couldn’t impose on him like that, but I also couldn’t think of anywhere else that would let me stay. The list of Fujimi members and school staff had burned to ash in the fire, and there were a lot of people that I couldn’t remember their full names to look them up in the phone book.

I was flipping through the pages of the city phone book, trying to find a hotel, when I heard the sound of rain. It started raining. Then it was pouring. It seems like bad luck was following me like a bad smell. I took out ten yen from my wallet and picked up the phone.

“Hello, do you have any rooms available? Yes, for tonight. Oh, that’s great. Where are you located?” I thanked them, hung up the phone and wondered out loud, “Yeah, that’s pretty far. The cab fare alone would wipe out all my money. I wonder if they would let me stay without a deposit?”

I heard a noise and looked outside. A soaking wet businessman was waiting, so I opened the phone booth and said, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” and dashed under the eaves of a building to avoid getting wet. I hurriedly wiped the drops of water from my violin case. I decided to wait for the rain to let up and then walk to the hotel; since I only had 3,000 yen I really couldn’t spend it on the cab. But the evening downpour, which I assumed would stop if I waited it out, did not let up even after an hour. I waved my hand at the approaching lights of an empty cab and repeatedly counted the contents of my wallet in my head.

---

After going through 5 other hotels, the sixth hotel receptionist — my last ray of hope in the whole town — was a gentle, motherly woman with a pleasant appearance and tone of voice… “Oh, that’s the thing, isn’t it?”

I said quickly, “I have an ATM card, so if the bank is open tomorrow morning, I promise I can get the money! I know you have a rule that you have to pay in advance, but I won’t cause any trouble!” Needless to say, I’m not very good at this kind of negotiation. But there was nothing else I could do. I was so embarrassed that my forehead broke out in a cold sweat, but I persisted desperately. “I’m begging you. I can’t stay out in the open in this rain!” The woman, who seemed to be going through hardship of her own, looked down with a troubled expression. ‘One more push,’ I thought.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but if there’s any way…”

“Well, let me have your driver’s license.”

“Oh, that’s —“ I was sure that I had finally found a solution. “I don’t have it.”

“You don’t have a driver’s license?” It was heart-wrenching to see her face, which had finally softened somewhat, switch back into cold rejection.

“...my insurance card was burned. But..!” I pulled my ATM card out of my drenched back pocket. “I’ll leave this with you!”

The woman shook her head apologetically. “That doesn’t prove your identity, does it?”

“But if you look up my card number…”

“Can you prove it’s yours?” I was about to open my mouth to argue against her rude suspicion when the sound of rain started up again.

The easy-going face of welcome had turned into a cruel mask when she looked back at me. She said quietly, “Anyway, we don’t accept single guests.” Basically, I was interfering with their business, so get out of here.

“Ah, I see. Thank you.” Apparently this is the way the city is. I thought I could handle the love-hotel atmosphere, but I was naive. I gave the guests that had entered behind me some space so I wouldn’t have to look at them, but it seemed to be an unnecessary precaution.

“Oh, let’s take this room!” I heard the excited girl’s voice behind me as I walked out, not feeling the least bit guilty about being in a love hotel. This was the last of my hotel choices, and I had run out of ideas. I wondered if the heavens had come to regret their cruelty to me, as it was raining lightly when I went outside. But the situation wasn’t any better just because the rain was lighter.

“Police, maybe?” I had heard of something called ‘tiger boxes’ that were used to protect drunks, but I wondered if they would have anything for a lodger like me. ‘It’s all so bad!’ I thought, but that was the only option I could think of at this point. However, the police station was behind the Fujimi train station, which took me 20 minutes to get there by car, and now I had to walk back... “I’ve got 820 yen in my pocket, so I have no other choice.”

The problem was the violin, which could not get wet. I decided to put it in my travel bag, and used my summer jacket as a furoshiki for my overflowing clothes. I walked out into the rain, which was cold on my already soaking body. There was nothing else I could do.

—

“Achoo!” I sneezed, waking up. I was greeted by masculine-smelling air and unnecessary air conditioning. It seemed that I had caught a cold. I put my glasses on and looked at the round clock on the wall; it was barely 7am… I had stumbled into this police station a little after two in the morning, managed to get them to understand my situation, and they let me stay in the dormitory nap room.

“Achoo!” I guess it’s time for me to leave. After all, the air conditioning was too cold in here. I folded the blanket I had borrowed and left the dormitory room. I looked around for the middle-aged policeman that had helped me earlier, but maybe his shift had ended. I turned around and saw a policeman who looked younger than me.

“Oh, you must be Morimura-san.”

“Yes, I was staying here. Thanks to you, I was saved. This is for the person who helped me last night,” I offered him a box of sweets that my sister had given me to take home, “It’s a little wet from the rain, but inside is manju.”

“Oh no, that’s too much.”

“No, I’m really grateful.” As I was saying this, my nose started to itch again. I sneezed and bowed.

The city was already hot and humid, so I was grateful for the chills that were creeping into my body. I bought the cheapest lunch at a convenience store in the middle of the street and headed for the bank. It was 7:24am on August 13th, and in 30 minutes I would be able to say goodbye to the miserable feeling of having just 500 yen in my pocket. But I didn’t know… I didn’t know that today is the day the door of hell would be flung open.

It’s hot… the cicadas are so noisy. And… there was no money. The lack of money I thought I had was extremely shocking, there must have been some mistake. I’m sure it was just some small clerical error, like a paycheck failing to transfer. I did buy a new suit for the school year and paid for it in one lump sum with my bonus, but that should have gone through in July… but the ‘balance of 2,637 yen’ on the statement the cashier spit out was an unquestionable fact from the employee that was working that Saturday. He told me to come back on Monday for more details. The bank book, which was supposed to be a clue to solve my money question, had been reduced to ashes along with my personal seal and ID card. And the only thing that could guarantee that I am Yuuki Morimura was an ATM card, which could be stolen or picked up…

If it had been the bank where Kawashima-san worked, she probably would have taken care of it. Fujimi’s most beautiful flutist, Natsuko Kawashima, who had rejected my desperate proposal, was the type of person who would be strong in an emergency situation like this. But she’s not here, and anyway as a man I couldn’t just go to my girlfriend’s workplace and cry to her. For an hour I was at a loss for what to do, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this, envying the heavens and cursing my fate. Maybe I was stupid to have left with only my violin and a few changes of clothes. But! I had taken proper precautions against fire, and I was only gone for three days. Usually you don’t have to think about the possibility of your apartment burning down in such a short amount of time. 

The sun was shining on the benches, and shadows stretched out over the ground. I was craving grilled fish… but what was I supposed to do now, when it’s two more days until Ishida-san comes back? I was able to withdraw 2,000 yen from my credit card, but with a grand total of 2,511 yen it was barely anything. I pulled out the notepad I kept in my pocket. I knew I had only Mozart, Kawashima-san’s house, and the number of the school staff room written down. The school was closed for the Bon holiday and there was no answer on the phone. Kawashima-san was the only one who could help me. But… I said to myself, ‘Is it really worth it to go through all this?’ Of course, I wanted to just wait it out, but if I had to… if I did, I’d have to stay out in the open for two more nights. The policeman last night was kind enough to help me, but the way he acted made it clear that the police were not a hotel, and I was already feeling sick from my search for shelter in the rain. My pride as a man wouldn’t let me rely on Tounoin. 

As I soothed my dry throat with lukewarm water from the park fountain, I made up my mind. By the time I found a phone booth, I had sweated out more than I had drunk. I wondered if Kawashima-san would be at work or if she was off? In this case, I could barely spare even ten yen. In a desperate mood, I figured that she would have gone to work, so I looked up the number of her workplace in the Town Pages, which I was grateful to have even if it was in tatters.

The reply on the other end of the line was, “Kawashima-san is off today.”

I took my wallet out again… oh, ten-yen coins, you are valuable after all. I dialed her home number, and the voice that answered was that of a mother.

“I’m Morimura of the Fujimi Philharmonic. Is Natsuko-san at home?”

“Ah, the concertmaster. Thank you for always taking care of my daughter,” said the warm voice. I felt the dark clouds in my chest clear. Thank God. 

“Oh, of course. So, where is Natsuko-san?”

“This morning she went scuba diving in Izu with a friend. She’ll be back the night of the 15th.”

I couldn’t remember if I had said a proper greeting when I hung up the phone… as I exited the phone booth I felt that my last hope was gone. I’m finally going to have to live on the street. But… but… what the hell am I supposed to do? I asked myself over and over, and reluctantly arrived at the answer I already knew, the only solution. I have no choice but to go to Tounoin. Go to him… I’ll just borrow some money. As long as I have money I can do whatever I need to do; get a hotel room, ask the principal for a new ID when school resumes after Bon, go to city hall to get a certificate of seal impression, and then take it back to the bank. It’s just a debt, I will owe him a favor, but I can pay him back as much as I borrow. 

I walked, keeping my face down from the sun that was beating down on me. I was sweating profusely, yet an inexplicable chill ran down my spine. I put my hand to my forehead, which wasn’t even hot, but I felt like I was having a heat stroke. I need to borrow money to buy some cold medicine...a hotel… a cool room… I should have called Kawashima-san last night instead of trying to be proud and stick it out on my own. But it was so late at night… and either way it was too late now.

—

The Telephone Pole Mansion was silent and open as usual. On the wall opposite of the door to apartment 11 there was a row of mailboxes with numbers from 11-71 on them, and on box 71 was a handwritten name: “Kei Tounoin.” There was an elevator door next to it, and in front of the door an abandoned tricycle with the name ‘Mamiko’ written on it in permanent marker. I pushed the trike aside and pressed the button. I got off at the fifth floor — which was the end of the line — and climbed the remaining two floors, breathing hard. They say only idiots catch colds in the summer, but I felt myself getting more and more sick. But I had to act cool in front of Tounoin. He’ll probably tell me to use his place instead of a hotel, but I don’t want to accept a favor I can’t return. I had rejected him. Actually, he really wasn’t the kind of guy I could borrow money from, either… I finally managed to get to the apartment, and was anticipating getting to change clothes since the ones I had been wearing were soggy from being worn since yesterday. I put my hands in my pockets — I just remembered, I don’t have the key…

I usually have the key to his place. It was the middle of last month when Tounoin offered me his apartment, since mine didn’t allow the practicing of musical instruments and I had no other decent place to practice. At the time, we were still like a rabbit and a wolf, and I was the rabbit running away. I resisted and resisted, not wanting to be lured into the wolf’s house by some kind of trick. But then we developed a proper relationship as friends, and I decided to accept that his offer was out of kindness, not a trick. Since then, I’ve practiced here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night, and Sunday afternoon. I have a duplicate key because Tounoin’s apartment is soundproofed, and he plays music so loud that he doesn’t hear if somebody knocks. He gave me the key so I could come in on my own, but I had left the key in my apartment. On the morning I left, I put it in a bag of rice in the kitchen, along with my personal seal, bank book and other valuables… 

He had no doorbell. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I knocked a few more times, then thought to put my ear to the door, but it seemed to be silent behind it. Just to be sure, I looked for a window, but there was not a single window on this side. I went to the edge of the aisle and looked, but no, there was no window on that side either. There was a window across from the door inside… but regardless there was no sign of anybody being in the apartment. 

“He’s finally away…” did he go to his parents’ house, or on vacation, or just out shopping? No matter what Tounoin was doing, my situation was simple: I had no other place to go, no other option. As long as I had the key, I could go in; Tounoin wouldn’t mind if I came in when he wasn’t home. It would be much easier to wait in an air-conditioned room, and I would without hesitation, but without a key… it’s metal, so there is a possibility that it didn’t burn up in the fire. But to find it, I would have to go back down the stairs and walk for twenty minutes in the hot sun. Then I’d have to dig around in that pile of rubble, and what were the chances of finding it? Even if I did find it, it might be useless, and either way I’d have to come back here… by then, Tounoin might have returned. So I decided to just wait. Fortunately there was a roof over the passage, and the elevated location allowed for good ventilation. I sat down in the aisle with my violin case beside me on the concrete, which was cool and pleasant in the shade. Looking through the bars of the railing, the city was the color of scorched gold in the midsummer sun. I’ll wait here until it cools down in the evening, and if he doesn’t come back I’ll go look for the key…. but what if the key doesn’t work? Whether it’s there or not, I’ll have to come back, but what if Tounoin doesn’t come back tonight?

Then I’ll just spend the night here outside. No one but Tounoin comes up here anyway, and it’s summer so it shouldn’t be a problem to sleep overnight… but what if he’s on vacation? I haven’t heard anything about that. He’s probably shopping or something, he’ll be back in the evening. As I stared blankly at the scenery thinking about this, I began to feel sleepy. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to move anymore. The sooner I went to look for the key the better, and the sooner I could take some medicine the better. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I was thirsty and I knew I could get a cold drink at the convenience store downstairs. But once I was sitting like this, I didn’t feel like getting up again. I felt like I didn’t actually sleep much at the police dormitory, and yesterday was still yesterday…

I had helped Mimiko with her farm work in the morning, took my nephews to the town swimming pool, and taken a six-hour express train ride home, and then when I was feeling relieved to be home, the apartment was gone. And all that time I wasted looking for a hotel… after all that, it’s not surprising that I didn’t get a good night’s sleep. In other words, I was utterly exhausted. And to top it off, I was coming down with a cold. I laid down with my bag as a pillow, just to give my body a rest. After a short nap I would take a fever reducer… and then go find the key… I laid down, staring at the concrete ceiling of the aisle and the blue sky beyond, thinking about the pile of scores I had that were now burned. I hadn’t finished learning more than half of them, maybe I should have brought at least those with me… I couldn’t help thinking about it now. 

...I opened my eyes with a start and realized I had fallen asleep. My body ached all over, probably from lying on a concrete bed. But I didn’t feel like waking up, I was feeling very sluggish, as if I were being held in a metal box. I wanted to look at the time, but I couldn’t lift my arm to put on my watch. ‘Never mind,’ I thought, ‘This is the top floor, and the only room up here is Tounoin’s, so I can afford to take my time. I’m sure he’ll have something to say when he gets back, and there’s no need to move when it’s still so hot…’ With this thought, I was sucked back into the darkness of sleep. But it was a sleep that I shouldn’t have fallen into, like what people experience when they’re in distress on snowy mountains.

I was burning hot when I woke up again. I forced open my heavy eyelids. Through the bars of the railing, at the same height as I was lying, the orange sun was blazing, and I was basking in the west sun. I tried to get up, but my body felt like a bag of wet sand. If I stayed here, I would dry out in the sun. I managed to crawl up on all fours and move to the little remaining shade by the top of the stairs. As I let my head fall limp, I thought of something. The violin! I shouldn’t have left it in the sun like that… I crawled back to the apartment door, grabbed the violin case, and went back to the shade. The coldness of the concrete made me feel uncomfortable, like a myriad of worms were slithering under my skin. Chills kept running down my spine incessantly. I was already starting to doze off, thinking of how awful this was. The sound of cicadas chirping somewhere in the distance was becoming more and more faint. Water… water… when it gets cooler, I’ll have to go to the convenience store… barley tea, juice...water...water…. I found myself depressed. When I came to, it was pitch black. I felt cold, and when I moved my entire body was filled with aches and pains. My head also felt like it was going to crack open, and the breath on my lips was hot. I felt like I couldn’t get up, but I managed to do so because I knew I was in danger of dying out here. Going down the stairs, however, was even more dangerous. My legs were unreliable, and my hands were shaking as I clung to the railing with what little strength I had. Still, I somehow managed to reach the elevator and descended to the ground floor. 

I staggered the 30 meters or so to the corner store and went in. The brightness of the white lights hurt my eyes.

“Excuse me,” I said, leaning against the register, “Do you have any fever reducers?”

“No, we don’t,” the cashier replied, “But there’s a pharmacy a little bit down the street.” He seemed kind. 

“How far is ‘just a little bit…’” It was too far for me now. “Could I have a bottle of Pocari?” The clerk asked me which one. “No, a large one.”

“Two bottles are six hundred and eighteen yen.” 

With trembling fingers I took the change and the heavy package and left the store. I didn’t have time to go looking for the keys. I literally crawled back to Tounoin’s front door on the seventh floor, relieved to see that the violin I had left behind was still there, and then I completely ran out of steam. I would fall asleep intermittently, waking up with chattering teeth, and then fall asleep again only to wake up drenched in sweat… each sleep and awakening had a similar sense of torment and nightmares, and time passed slowly. Every time I woke up, I would first check to make sure my violin was safe, then take a sip or two of Pocari, touch the violin case again and fall back into another painful sleep. 

I felt like my beloved instrument, which was ‘only two million yen’ in the eyes of musicians, was still very precious to me even at this moment when I felt on the brink of death. When I was a student, quite a few of my friends had instruments worth 2 million, and some played on ones worth 3 or 5 million. I wondered how they managed to squeeze that out of their parents. The violin is a small but expensive instrument, with the best ones like Stradivarius costing hundreds of millions of yen. Because of their nature, being made with wood, the sound gets better with age, so the 300,000 or 400,000 yen new violins lined up in the window of a music store are only considered entry-level instruments. When I was a student, I used a brand new violin that cost 700,000 yen. My mother spent all of her savings to buy me the best one she could find in the country, and that was how much it cost to get the violin and the bow as a set. The sound is somewhat proportional to the price, so no matter how hard I tried my instrument could not match that of a 3 million yen instrument. That’s why when I got out of college and started a temporary job, the first thing I did was buy this violin. I had already given up being a professional, but I really wanted an instrument that had a better sound; it was the culmination of around four years of frustration. I sold my 700,000 yen set for 600,000 yen, keeping the bow, and then added 1.4 million yen of my own from a personal loan to purchase my current instrument. I was really happy at the time, and now with only one more payment, my beloved instrument will be mine in both name and reality. Then, I will buy a suitable bow for it… probably something around 500,000 yen… with a loan again, but I will do it to get a new bow. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to afford it. And then I wished I could play the violin just one more time before I died, if this was to be my last moments…. when I think about it, I was being as sentimental as something you’d see in a shoujo manga, and later I blush when I recall being like that. I’m proud of myself for being a violinist, and under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have ever thought of pawning my violin for money. But I’m a fool, and in some way it’s more manly to be foolish.

That was what I was thinking about when I absentmindedly changed thoughts to the man who seemed to not be coming back, no matter how long I waited. I thought I heard footsteps, but figured it was just another hallucination. But the sound was getting closer… a white object appeared on the stairs, quickly turning into a Panama hat with black eyes under the brim. As I was lying on my concrete bed, all I could see was what came into my field of vision from the other side — a man with only a head, then a neck… his eyebrows were tight, the eyes underneath long and narrow, with a well-defined nose that even from the front you could tell was high. 

“No way,” the lips murmured. Then the shoulders appeared under the man’s neck, and a hand came up and lifted the Panama hat, which he fanned his face with. The man’s dark hair was long and full, tucked in tightly from the hat; it didn’t look rude or obnoxious because the style suited him. “Morimura… san? What are you doing here…?” With a clatter of footsteps the whole body appeared, a solid 190cm tall body in an elegant linen suit. He was holding a trunk that had customs stickers in one hand. Had he been traveling abroad…?

“Hey,” I smiled, or at least I thought I did. It was Kei Tounoin, the 22 year old unknown genius conductor who had dropped out of the Music Department of the National Fine Arts University — which he was accepted straight into — because he had ‘nothing more to learn’ after one year, and then he studied abroad in Germany and Austria. His present status was as the permanent conductor of the 2-Chome Phil, or Fujimi Orchestra, an amateur ensemble of people who love music. “I’ve been… waiting for a while…” I said in a raspy, shrill voice. Before I realized it was me speaking, I was folded into the chest of the suit that had quickly appeared. 

“Morimura-san! What’s going on? What the hell are you doing in a place like this?!” 

I was going to answer, but I lost consciousness…

--

When I woke up, I was in the water. At first I just felt vaguely cool and comfortable, when I heard a chuckle in my ear. My face was wiped with a cold towel dripping with water, and I opened my eyes. 

“Oh, you noticed,” The one who said this in a very relieved voice was Tounoin, who was looking right into my face from above. I tried to sit up, as I was using his arm as a pillow, but I heard a bang and realized I was lying in a Western-style bathtub filled with water. Completely naked.

“Wha-ah…” I jumped in shock.

Tounoin said in a serious voice, “I had to hurry to lower your temperature, it was over 40ºC.” I was relieved to hear that, but then my eyelids began to feel heavy… “Wait! Just one sip before you go to sleep,” he said with a panicked voice, and his arm snatched me up in a hug while he placed something hard and cold to my lips. A cup…? “You’re dehydrated, just drink as much as you can,” he said. Adam woke up and took a bite of the apple, but when I covered my crotch with my hand I felt even more embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said and shoved a thin object into my mouth. “It’s a thermometer,” he told me.

When he saw the temperature dropped to 37º he let me lean back into the water. I noticed that the sleeves and chest of his expensive linen suit were soaked from where I was leaning against him. “I’m sorry… I feel lost… put it on…” when I mumbled with the thermometer in my mouth, Tounoin smiled.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I was scared because I was afraid he was going to kiss me. But he only leaned in to read the thermometer. The door behind him slammed open, and he murmured, “It’s about time he got here.”

“How is it? Has it gone down a bit?”

“Seven degrees in one minute. I’ll move him to the room. Oh, can you get a bath towel for me from the cabinet over there? Two or three for the bed.”

“I should have brought a nurse,” said the man, opening the cupboard as he thrust his stethoscope into his pocket. Tounoin tried to pick me up, but I said I could walk myself. Both of them got irritated at me, thinking that I was just embarrassed. But the problem was the bed that I was brought to… two months ago, I was raped in this bed… but I couldn’t very well say that to Tonouin, who had taken care of me like a mother, nor to the doctor. After all, I don’t have a place to go home to, and I can’t look for an apartment until I get better.

“I’ll give you some glucose. You can still give him water. Basically the only medicine he needs is water and rest. Let him have some porridge when he has the energy to eat. I’ll come back tomorrow to see how it goes,” said the doctor, who left quickly after finishing his diagnosis.

I had enough energy to talk, “Are you related to that doctor?”

“He’s my uncle,” was the reply. I tried to tell him that there were pajamas in my bag, but he ignored me.

Instead, he pushed the dial button on the phone he pulled out from under the bed, but I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying. “Hello, this is Kei. No, from Fujimi… please tell him it will be a little while before I can come back. No, I have a guest.” As I listened I felt his voice soften, and it occurred to me that he had a family, too. I hadn’t thought about it before…

When I woke up after a good night’s sleep I felt much better. I put on my underwear and pajamas, went to the bathroom on my own, which also made me feel better. My precious violin had been placed on the shelf above the audio components. When I told Tounoin about my unfortunate situation, he expressed his deepest sympathy and said I could stay in his place for the time being.

“I can’t annoy you any more than I already have,” I said. He had taken care of me and slept on the floor so I could use his bed.

“I see…” he said, his tone of voice sounding slightly angry. “I don’t think it’s annoying.”

“Well, I think it will still be two or three more days until I can get everything sorted out. So I’m sorry for that.”

“Yeah. But there’s no rush, you can stay here until you have the energy to play the violin. Conductor’s orders.” I laughed, and Tounoin laughed too. He’s a handsome man, but with his usual expressionless face he looks dour and misanthropic. However when he smiles, he looks very youthful and friendly.

—-

It was the third day I had occupied Tounoin’s bed. I had been thinking that tomorrow I could go out and look for an apartment, but I fell asleep… I woke up in the middle of the night because of a faint sound of music, just a murmur. 'That is… that’s Tannhäuser,' I thought, the song that filled up this room when it was at full volume on the night two months ago, when Tounoin forcibly embraced me! ‘Oh my god!’ I thought, and felt like jumping to my feet. But my body stayed still like it was bound up by rope. No, I was holding my breath like a rabbit who had heard the snort of a wolf, who was stalking him. I stifled a gasp, then fearfully opened my eyes. 

The room was dark, illuminated only by moonlight streaming in through the window, where the blinds were lowered… Tounoin was in his usual place, looking like his usual self on the other side of the room: facing the console cross-legged with his back to the bed. The sound of Tannhäuser was leaking from his headphones. The broad shoulders of his back made me wince, and inwardly I took an escape stance. Tounoin raised his arms and folded his hands behind his neck, then slowly curled his body forward. He stayed like that for quite some time. I could only see his curled back as I secretly watched him, fighting the memories that came back to me no matter how hard I tried to push them away. I don’t want to remember, but why is it that inconvenient memories are so vivid? I was attacked and raped while this song was blaring at maximum volume… the feeling of his thing going into me, the pain of it tearing my ass and the sensation of my internal organs being pushed out of my mouth when he was penetrating me. The uncountable minutes of humiliation, feeling crazy, embarrassed, terrible… I felt unbearably miserable, I really want to be able to erase this from my memory! Of course I didn’t want to do it… but I had gasped and moaned, and he was saying, “I love you”... no way! I wish I was lying, but the facts are what they are. 

I don’t know why he’s listening to that song, but before I knew it the sound stopped, and the silence made me choke up even more. The sound of my heartbeat throbbed in my ears as I pressed my head into the pillow, and I was worried Tounoin would hear it. I swallowed hard… how long was the silence going to last? Tounoin, motionless as a stone, murmured faintly, “Yuuki… Yuuki…” in a piercing whisper. Then he took off the headphones and stood up. I shut my eyes quickly. I felt a presence approach the side of the bed, and the raggedness of his breathing was stifling. I tried my best to pretend to be asleep. Tounoin seemed to be staring down at me. “If… if he’s willing…” he said quietly.

I decided what I would do and how I would do it, but I was confused. If he comes at me like he did that other time, I’m going to punch him in the face and run away, but… can I do it? ‘I will!’ I shouted at myself. Tounoin is a good man, and he saved my life, but that’s one thing and this is another! It has to be different! Tounoin was still standing there. The tension in my throat was so great that I felt my face begin to flush, thanks to the struggle to stifle screaming and the feeling of wanting to leap out of bed. 

I thought I had reached my limit when I heard his baritone voice say, “I’m sorry…” and he softly ruffled my hair. I opened my eyes when I heard the footsteps move away from me and the sound of blankets being spread out. Tounoin was lying with his back to me on a blanket on the wooden floor, instead of his bed that he had given up for me. He knew. He knew that I was awake, that I was curious about him. He knew I was afraid that he might do something, even though Tounoin had sworn never to force me and was keeping his vow. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but I was scared to do that because it would give him hope… if I made him want to try again, when he was trying to give up like a man…. well, honestly I was afraid of Tounoin. Our friendship was built on the thin ice of his self-control, and if I take one careless step and it cracks, I will be swallowed by the flames of his passion that are still burning underneath. I knew that for sure from that afternoon in July.

 I also knew that I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to pleasure in the arms of a man; I couldn’t forgive myself after my body confessed itself unintentionally. He had hugged me with arms that were free of lust and apologized. I had said ‘I understand, but I’m not going to be in a romantic relationship with a man no matter how much he loves me.’ He accepted it when I said those words, and then we settled down into the normal friendship I had hoped for… but the way Tounoin was fighting with himself now, the bitter battle between his true feelings and the pretense he showed me tonight, that was the truth. He only put on the ‘just a friend’ act for me, a false image that twisted his true feelings. I knew I had to snap out of it with an ‘I’m sorry,’ which I was able to say by pushing down my emotions through reason, but it was much more painful than I had expected. He said that we would go find an apartment tomorrow, and that was the scream of his suppressed emotions. I knew I shouldn’t have stayed here… I like Tounoin as a person, but I can’t accept him the way he wants me to. I’m like a fish laying in front of a cat, ready to be eaten. I can’t let him do this to himself anymore.

The next day we took a cab to the real estate office. I said we could walk, but Tounoin was adamant, so we drove. We actually went to four real estate agencies, but couldn’t find anything that I liked so decided to try again another day. While we were out I also went to the school I worked at, which was two stops away by train. The vice principal was there, and he expressed his deepest sympathies for my situation and gave me a new ID card after I had requested him to reissue it over the phone. I immediately went to the city hall, got my seal registration card and went to the bank. Tounoin asked the branch manager to check my bank account in a calm and unobtrusive tone, and got the answer that I should wait for a few days. The bank book with a balance of 637 yen was quickly reissued with a single three-sentence stamp, since he showed his passport and acted as my guarantor. It seemed my body was still not up to full condition since I fell asleep in the cab on the way home, which worried Tounoin a little. 

As soon as we got back Tounoin pushed me to go to bed, and then Ishida-san came to visit suddenly. It seems that Fujimi’s caretaker was very worried about me, since I had been missing since the fire. He said, “Well, I got a call from my landlord as soon as I came back from my vacation. He asked me if I knew where you had gone, so I called your family but they replied that you left them on the 12th. I didn’t say anything about the fire, I just told your sister that I had urgent business for Fujimi. Since the police assured us that nobody died in the fire, I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.” 

Come to think of it, Ishida-san was my guarantor for my apartment contract. “Thank you for everything,” I bowed my head from the bed. “I was going to call my sister after I found a new apartment,” I added, “But Tounoin didn’t think I should mention the mishap with the fire. It’s not really a nice thing to talk about, after all.” Ishida-san nodded in agreement. 

“It’s a good thing you have shelter right now. How is your cold?”

“I'm getting better. I’ve been troubling Tounoin-san a lot.”

“So, are you going to find an apartment?"

“It’s hard to find a cheap place where you can also practice violin.”

Ishida laughed, “I hope the landlord decides to rebuild, but he is getting old. I did hear that he will be compensated for the spread of the fire."

“That’s right, even though the landlord didn’t start the fire.”

“Well, that’s about it. So…” Ishida-san rummaged through the bag he brought with him. “There’s not much in there, but be careful when you open it,” he said, placing an envelope next to my lap.

“Oh no, no, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not much, just a gift. This is the kind of situation for it, after all. And you don’t need to give anything back in return; we’ve known each other for a long time, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” He smiled at me and sat up. “Are you going to stay here until you find an apartment?”

I was about to reply ‘no,’ but Tounoin said “Yes.” 

“That’s good. I’ll see you later, then. Is rehearsal still off for tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll go.”

“Oh, yes. Well, we can’t have rehearsal without Morimura-chan, and Tounoin-kun isn’t going to attend either. You don’t have to force yourself.” 

After Nico-chan left, looking busy, Tounoin and I had a disagreement about where I would stay until I found an apartment.

Tounoin said, “I’ll be staying at my parents’ place from tonight, so you can take your time finding an apartment.”

“That’s…! No, I’ll go to a hotel.”

“That would be a waste of money,” I choked up… it’s true that if the bank doesn’t figure out my situation, I’m penniless.

“But I can’t just kick you out of your own place…”

“It’s okay, I should be dutiful to my sponsors sometimes, after all.”

“Where’s your hometown?”

“Seijo.”

 Wow, a high-class residential area! “But then, won’t it take you nearly two hours to get here?”

“Well, yes.”

“I can’t bother you like that.”

“I told you, it’s not a bother.”

“But it’s definitely inconvenient.”

“It’s about time I slept on a decent futon anyway.”

“Well, let’s switch. I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

“You’re a sick man.”

“I’m better now!”

“Then why don’t you go for a run around the town?”

We were dancing around the subject, he knew it and I knew it. Tounoin wants to get out before his emotions get the better of him. I can’t make the man who saved my life leave his own apartment. But to hold him back would be to continue tormenting him… 'Oh, righteousness or humanity!' I thought, and then I realized that it wasn’t out of duty or courtesy that I wanted to keep him around, is it? It’s just my stubbornness, and that I don’t want to admit that I’m actually afraid of him….

“Okay,” I said. “I feel really bad for you, but if it makes you feel better…” 

Tounoin laughed with a huff, “I’m telling you that I don’t think you can sleep well with me around, so I’m removing myself.”

I was pissed off that he pointed out the truth so bluntly, “I trust you, don’t I?”

“Do you?” 

Now I was really annoyed, “So why don’t you sleep with me tonight?” I thought I’d lost it as soon as the words came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t unsay it. “If you don’t want to sleep on the floor, then sleep next to me. I don’t mind,” I told him, confident he would refuse.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” he said with a sly smile.

“Then let’s go with that.” He smiled at me as I looked up at him, feeling like I had dug my own grave.

“I’m a better sleeper than Morimura-san.”

—

… Tounoin’s daily routine is that of somebody who is young and doesn’t have a regular job (I think, I never asked him about it), but is very precise. He wakes up at seven in the morning and has bread and coffee for breakfast. Then, he runs the washing machine and cleans the room with a rented mop. When he's done, he takes out a book or two from the cabinet full of scores, spreads them on his knees and studies them. He wasn’t playing recordings this time, but apparently just reading the music in his head; I had heard that only geniuses of Seiji Ozawa’s level could do that sort of thing without the assistance of an instrument. Usually you play piano or something at least. Conductors use the score, a book of music that contains all the parts of the orchestra (brass, woodwinds, strings, percussion), and each page has all the staves needed for the instrumental parts. The conductor’s job is to understand the flow of each part and how it interacts with the harmony in the complex combination as a whole. To be blunt, it was a task that my mind could never handle, but Tounoin apparently can construct it completely in his head. I knew he was a true genius. But of course, he didn’t seem to be doing it effortlessly either. He was doing it in his usual manner, with the score on his knees, but the level of tension and concentration was completely different from when he was reading with the recordings. He doesn’t talk to anyone, but I feel like I need to refrain from even breathing…

He does this from around eight o’clock, sometimes until the afternoon, without taking a break, and then would take a nap. After sleeping like a dead man for an hour, he would put on recordings in addition to reading the scores. Then he had dinner delivered from a restaurant (today while waiting for the food, he remembered the laundry and went to put it in the dryer), and after he finishes eating, goes back to playing recordings and score study.  He finishes up around twelve o’clock, takes a nightly bath, and goes to bed. He doesn’t have any sort of nightcap or alcohol; he was a man who lived a life completely immersed in music. 

I looked at the clock every five minutes, waiting for midnight to come. Well, maybe waiting wasn’t quite the right word, it was more like being in a state of trepidation. It was a little past midnight when Tounoin took off his headphones and turned the components off. He turned around to see if I was asleep (of course I pretended to be), turned off the light and walked past my side of the bed to the back door. Incidentally, this apartment is very well designed, except for the fact that the room isn’t square in shape. The first thing you see when you walk in is the audio equipment with five speakers that look like they cost a million yen. When you remove your shoes, you can see a large window at the other end of the room, and when you step inside the flooring is cork. The bed is at the far end of the room, and next to the double-sized bed there is a row of doors on the wall. The three closest to the entrance are cabinets full of musical scores. The fourth one leads to a cabin in the back, which houses a bathroom with a Western-style toilet, a storage area with laundry facilities, and a dining/kitchen area, all crammed into one functional space. 

After finishing his nightly studies, Tounoin went into the captain’s room for his usual bath, but he didn’t come out for a long time, while I waited and waited pretending to be asleep. He usually doesn’t take long baths, but it was over thirty minutes at least. Tired of nervously waiting, I actually dozed off instead of pretending, waking up when I felt the bed sink. Tounoin had laid down in the empty spot by the wall. He fidgeted a bit behind me with his back to me, but he soon quieted down. Then came the sign of someone who was satisfied with the comfort of sleeping. I couldn’t help but listen attentively to the sound of Tounoin’s breathing less than a meter away. If it didn’t switch to the sound of deeper sleep, I wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully myself… but it wasn’t long before I started to hear his breathing slow and fall into a regular pattern. For now I was relieved, and was ready to fall asleep too. But… my mind was still racing and I couldn’t quiet it. It wasn’t that I wasn’t tired, but I hadn’t been out of the apartment in days, and even if my body is tired my mind is so sharp that it refuses to sleep. And then the more impatient I am to sleep, the more I hear Tounoin’s sleeping breath, the smell of his shampoo, and other things poking at my consciousness that brought back memories from that night and afternoon. This man who suddenly revealed himself as a passionate person, who attacked me and stole me away, when I had only known him as an impudent and calm conductor… this man who plucked my pride and twisted my flesh into a type of affair I’d never known… this man with wide shoulders, a broad chest and strong arms, that held me captive and dominated me, stopping me from challenging him with his strength…

For a moment, I remembered the feeling of something thick and hot ramming into my ass. I twitched, and at the same time I realized that my penis was on the verge of rising. Why is my body in such a state of rebellion against my will? How was it that a  single, forced experience made me a homosexual who wants a man? But… but… smelling Tounoin’s scent… his presence… is what causes this change in my body. He already understood, I convinced him that I can’t be his lover, and he has not laid a finger on me as promised. I...I...I… stiffened at the sound of a sigh behind me.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” The sleepy voice had a faint hint of a teasing smile. The bed creaked as he turned over, and then Tounoin fell asleep with a swoosh. 

‘Damn it!’ I thought. I was supposed to be worried that he would break the chains of his reason! Yes, I was. He really wanted to have sex with me, but out of concern that he couldn’t keep his vows he was going to stay at his parents’ house. Because I hinted at that, his vain counterattack was this accusation that I didn’t trust him. The rest was just saying words for words’ sake, but… okay, I’ll buy it. I’ll buy it. I’m determined to see how much more of this you can take, until you give up! But if you lose it and come after me, I’ll laugh my ass off and ask what happened to your vows! Yeah, that’s right, I’m going to laugh about it. Once my mind was made up, all I had to do was sleep. Oh yeah, I’ll laugh it up. He’s going to get a real good night’s sleep…

I woke up twice in the night. Why is that? ‘I’m a better sleeper than you…’ get out of here with that kind of joke!

—

I woke up in a daze. It was cool and chilly, and I nuzzled my nose into the warmth in front of my face. I heard, “Good morning.”

“Mmm…” I replied softly. Huh? 

The warmth was the chest of Tounoin’s pajamas, and I had slept hugging him! I tried to sit up, but he pulled my head back and said, “Now do you understand? I have confidence in my ability to reason,” reminding me of what I had thought before I fell asleep. I steeled myself to prepare for an escape. 

“Yes, but you’re not a good sleeper, are you?”

 Tounoin laughed, “I’ll be as careful as possible.” Now I’m sure you’ll be sleeping with me as long as I’m here. Don’t start barking now that your tail is out, wolf… I’m perfectly fine with it. But the AC is so low in this room that it feels good to be together… I’m in trouble… I fell asleep again and was woken up for lunch, and I felt embarrassed. 

In the afternoon the two of us went out to look for an apartment again, but we didn’t find anything that day either. I withdrew my requirement for being able to practice the violin. I was satisfied with my modest request to be able to afford the rent, and making sure it was in Fujimi-cho, not too far from the station. But I couldn’t even find one that would satisfy those modest wishes. Most of the apartments in Fujimi-cho are bedroom-focused, and the emphasis on family units seemed to be a bottleneck. I didn’t mind living in an apartment with one or more baths, but the rent was accordingly expensive…

 I had a Fujimi rehearsal in the evening, but I was tired from visiting real estate agencies. But I had promised Ishida-san that I would attend, so I started preparing in the evening. I realized that if I don’t play for a day, I can’t move my fingers the following day. Aside from the right hand that uses the bow, the left hand has to play on the strings almost of its own accord. To make up for a week’s absence of practicing, I spent three hours before heading to the Civic Center. But… fuck! This is just Allegro! Why can’t I move my fingers better than this?

“Morimura-san.”

Oh, I’m depressed, I missed it again. And it’s in such an easy position…

“Morimura-san!” He shouted in my ear. I looked up to see Tounoin looking down calmly. 

“Go ahead, I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“Are your clothes OK? If you want to change…”

“No, thank you. It’s fine, it’s fine.” I only had two sets of clothes in my travel bag, and the ones I was wearing at the moment were procured by Tounoin because he thought it would be inconvenient to keep wearing the same clothes. He has good taste.

“So, we should leave soon. We can stop at Fujimi on the way home for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I nodded and thought to myself, is he acting like my guardian? Yeah… he is.

—

Fujimi’s summer vacation lasted ten days, and I returned on the second rehearsal after the vacation. I was escorted (or so it appeared) by Tounoin. We stepped into the main conference room of the Civic Center and got down to business as usual. I took out the folding chairs from the storage area and arranged them, took out the folding table and arranged it, then the tuner and checked the batteries… Tounoin helped me quietly, and when he was done he disappeared to somewhere else. 

The first person to arrive was Ishida-san with his double bass, “Well, you’ve come out after all.” Apparently he had come to set up the venue in my stead. Everybody else seemed to come very quickly as well, and when they came up to talk to me they all knew about the fire in my apartment. I shouldn’t have felt annoyed that they were worried about me, but I also felt embarrassed, so I just said, “Thank you” and “It’s okay.” Kawashima-san also came to give her condolences.

“I was worried when I heard from my mother that you called me. Where on earth did you go…?” as she said this, the beautiful flutist looked at me with a puzzled expression. She knows about my relationship with Tounoin, except she stopped short of saying anything out loud.

I took the initiative, “Yes, actually, I’m staying at Tounoin-san’s right now,” Ishida-san knew about it, anyway. I added firmly, “In a clean and respectable way, as a housemate.”

Kawashima ran her white fingers through her pretty hair, “So are you still following the trend?”

“Of course not! I’m not gay!” 

Kawashima-san cut me off, chuckling, “I’m sorry, I have to admit I have a little grudge against you, so I felt like teasing.” It was a one-way love triangle between me, Kawashima-san and Tounoin. I was in love with Kawashima-san, she fell in love with Tounoin at first sight, and Tounoin fell in love with me… then I was dumped by Kawashima-san, she was rejected by Tounoin, and of course I have no intention of becoming a lover to a man. But it was a joking manner of resentment. After all, she’s the one that keeps trying to get me and Tounoin together. She seems to think homosexual couples are ‘trendy,’ but you know… a man and a man bedding together is just an awful sight. 

That evening we were supposed to be finishing up Finlandia, which we’ve been working on since last month… I took a break, and hadn’t touched my violin for a week. I looked at Igarashi-kun, the student cellist, and thought, ‘Well… let's see.’ I clapped my hands to get his attention. “Since everybody seems to be ready, can we try playing the part together? Strings, let’s do all the strings together and all the winds together. Timpani, please join the winds. Kaizuka-san, please take the lead of the wind section.” 

The principal oboe raised her hand to gather the other winds, and I joined the string group, taking advantage of the rattling and rearranging. “Ichiyama-san,” I called the second violin leader. “I’m sorry, but I need you to be the leader today.”

“But Concertmaster, why are you stepping down?”

“I haven’t played for a week, so my fingers are completely rusty. I want to get back in shape before Tounoin-san gets here. Sorry to be so selfish.” Ichiyama, who was an accounting manager of a construction company in the next town, nodded seriously. 

“I heard you were sick in bed with a cold. How are you feeling now?”

“Better, thanks.”

Igarashi-kun smiled at me as I joined the circle. He was especially happy, but everyone was already tired of practicing the monotonous long notes. The winds began to play and Ichiyama-san frowned. “I can’t hear very well,” he said. For the next forty minutes, until eight o’clock, we concentrated on uniting the string section.

“Stop, stop! We have to listen to each other more. If the string parts are not played like a single instrument, it will be more disjointed when we put it together with the winds. Then, let’s take it from bar 32.” The group with the timpani added to the woodwinds and brass seemed to be working hard to create the right harmony, playing and stopping. Playing and stopping. I had been able to instruct them on the right way to practice.

“Sorry,” said Nico-Chan, scratching his head. Ishida-san, who held the title of ‘Fujimi Citizen’s Symphony Orchestra Caretaker,’ had been sentenced by his wife to have his instrument taken away when he almost destroyed his main business, Mozart coffee shop, because he was so devoted to Fujimi. As a relief measure for the situation when we lost our bass player, we won her pardon so he could return to playing after almost ten years of being benched. He couldn’t help that he couldn’t produce a solid sound, but Ichiyama-san had been a friend of Ishida-san’s since the formation of Fujimi, and therefore had a relationship that allowed them to complain freely. Ishida-san apologized and tried his best to meet the order of playing ‘crisply’ in a serious manner. This was one of the things I liked about Fujimi, how in the family-like atmosphere warnings and advice were exchanged very naturally. We were all getting better together while having fun.

“Morimura-chan,” Ichiyama-san’s voice made me turn around. “You’ve got a lot of tension in your shoulders.”

“Oh, yes,” I lowered my violin and did some exercise with my shoulders. I’m getting really stiff.

“So, let’s start at measure forty-eight,” It’s really wonderful to have such colleagues, I thought. Oh, I’m in tune… yes, it’s going well. Eventually, at exactly the right time, Tounoin walked through the door after his five-minute observation and climbed up on the podium. I wondered where he had gone off to; I had thought he was going to be there for the earlier part of the rehearsal since he came over with me. Then I realized something: could it be that he did it for me? I didn’t mind at all, but it's true that I didn’t want it to be obvious that we had come to rehearsal together. 

—

I was packing up to leave after Tounoin’s usual, ‘We’re done’ when Igarashi-kun came up to me, looking like he wanted to talk. 

“So I heard that you were laid up for a while,” Igarashi is a current student in the cello department of the local music university, who started school the same year I graduated. He’s a cute guy who looks up to me for some reason. He’s talented, motivated, and cheerful, and also tends to be the ‘mood-maker’ in Fujimi.

“I caught a cold when I got stuck without a place to stay,” I replied, “But I’m all better now. Why?” I opened the floor for him.

“Actually…” he scratched his head, “The thing is… I’ve been ordered by the orchestra director to transcribe some music. It’s for a program in next month’s school festival, and it’s due tomorrow. I gathered my friends and we worked hard, but we still have a third of the score left to do.”

“Haha… what’s the piece?”

“A symphony composed by Kitagawa, a senior student in the composition department. It’s long and complicated.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come to rehearsal tonight.”

“If I didn’t take a break from it, I’d be dead by now. I’ve been up all night for two days and still haven’t finished.”

“So are you trying to get another cat’s paw?” Igarashi rubbed the back of his head as I talked.

“Sempai, please. I’ll get you midnight snacks and breakfast!” 

Transcribing music is literally copying music, but not the easy way with the photocopier. What Igarashi and his friends were doing was creating parts from the conductor’s score, the music that represents the entire piece. However, for each player in the orchestra the score is inconvenient, since all the notes of the instruments are written in the music, and each page only consists of four to six measures per page, requiring frequent page turns. So for the performers, a part must be made from the score, a transcription of the part from the general score, and it must be done for each instrument; for first violin the first violin part, oboe for the oboe, percussion for percussion. Of course, for major works by popular composers such as Mozart, Beethoven and Toshiro Mutsu, the publishers give you both the score and parts if you buy them (or if there are copyright restrictions, you can rent them for a fee) — or copy them if you can get away with it. However, the ones that Igarashi and his colleagues are working on are by a student composer, with only the original score to work with…

In other words, the only option was to take the score and write out the parts, which I had done many times. The ‘Freude Orchestra’ was formed as a music college club, and had a tradition of playing newly composed pieces by fellow students mixed in with regular concert programming. In Fujimi, whenever I needed to make my own arrangements for missing parts, I was the one to do the transcribing (Nico could do the arranging as well, but as a busy coffee shop owner he usually didn’t have time to do it). So I know firsthand the difficulty Igarashi and the others are facing. 

“Okay, I’ll help you out,” I answered. “Where have you been working on it?”

Igarashi looked relieved, “In my apartment, we only have the string parts left to do.”

“Is it a good piece?”

“It’s not bad. Mayuzumi said it was a great work, but…”

“Hahaha!” I realized that the only people left in the practice room were me, Igarashi and Tounoin, and everything but the chair I was sitting on had been put away. I told the tall conductor, “I’m going to go with Igarashi-kun to help him with some transcribing right now, so please go home first.” He stared at me for a moment and nodded. He quickly left the room. “I’m staying with him for right now, since I haven’t been able to find a reasonable apartment,” I explained.

“Oh…” Igarashi nodded. After that, I felt like he was secretly biting back a laugh, but that was probably my paranoia. “Well, you really saved my life. I was wondering what I would do if Morimura-san refused me.” 

I finally escaped, didn’t I? But while listening to Igarashi’s smiling voice, I was thinking of how Tounoin’s back looked somewhat depressed as he walked away. It’s not a bad feeling to have somebody worry about you, but he’s being overly protective. I’m a full-grown man, I can take care of myself. I don’t need a guardian anymore.

—-

Igarashi’s apartment was on the third floor of a newer reinforced concrete building, just a few blocks from my old place that had burned down. The room, which was about six tatami mats with a kitchen, was fairly clean, and two exhausted-looking coworkers were waiting for Igarashi to return with his helper.  The windows were open and the air was a bit stuffy, but there was no fan running. A pile of staff paper scattered about the room was the reason why they couldn’t have any inadvertent breeze.

“This is Kikuchi on clarinet and Oyama on piano.” Kikuchi was a small man with pouty lips that looked like the type of person who would play clarinet. Both of them were dressed in running shirts and pants, and their eyes were red, their faces full of stubble and fatigue.

“I’m Morimura. How many more pages do you have to do?” The symphony, titled Yuguna, is a large work with a performance time of fifty minutes, filled with waves of sixteenth notes mixed with thirty-second notes in modulation after modulation, a characteristic of modern music. I could tell from a glance of the score that it was a difficult piece. However, I could see a glimpse of talent in the unique melodic quality of the phrases, which was probably why it was chosen as the piece for the Freude Orchestra’s regular concert. But...I put my face close to the handwritten copy. Is that a C? Or is it a D?...D apparently… it’s hard to tell.

“It’s hard enough to read, isn’t it?”

“I think you should probably re-write the whole score while you’re at it,” I said, and the atmosphere quieted down. I realized that I had lost my mind. Damn it, these people…

“Well, I guess Kitagawa-kun will conduct, so I’ll just leave it at that.”

 I tried to recover my position, but then one of them said, “Yoshida is the senior in the conducting department, he’s going to conduct it…”

“So…”

“I’ll take care of the conductor’s score.” Igarashi’s face lit up as I said it with a sacrificial look of resignation.

“I’ll do the second violin,” Kikuchi said, “Who’s gonna take cello?”

“I don’t mind doing the cello part,” Oyama said, staring at the copy of the score, “Just the cello.”

“How much time do we have?”

 I flipped through the part, trying to assess how long I thought it would take, when Igarashi said in a small voice, “I promised to have it done by nine o’clock…”

“... in the morning, right?”

“Hahaha, well…”

“So we’ve only got ten hours! What are you waiting for? Staff paper! Pens!” There was no point in transcribing music if you can’t make it accurate and legible. And most of the time, you have to race against the clock.

I started with the first violin part, one of the two that I had been assigned. There is only one conductor’s score, but there are eighteen violins in a full orchestra. Priority was given to the many. I wrote in the note heads as fast as I could, going back and adding the stems after I had written a few measures' worth. Then I wrote the accidentals as needed — oops, it’s in B-flat from here. Damn it, I don’t want anybody to get keystroke from… for moving chords around so much. It’s a six-bar break, not five. Oh, is it natural or sharp? No, it’s natural. Hey, is that an E or an F or… uh… 

“Igarashi-kun,” I called out to him from halfway across the table, where he was focused on his own work.

Without looking up, Igarashi placed something in front of me. It was dice.

“Is this..?”

“If it’s an even number, it’s E.”

“So you want me to roll the dice to decide which pitch it is? That’s random…” I mumbled, and began to examine the chords to try and draw a conclusion from their spelling.

“Iga, give me the dice,” said Kikuchi, who was behind me using a beer container as a desk. Igarashi tossed him the dice.

“I need them too,” said Oyama, who was also using a makeshift desk next to me.

“What, you’re all doing it that way? You’re lousy transcribers, aren’t you?”

Kikuchi muttered to me as he rolled the dice for Oyama, “I’m sure Morimura-san will figure out why soon enough.”

I knew that if I had to guess and interpret every chord, I would never make the deadline in time. Damn it, if it’s difficult, it’s probably a great piece. I don’t get this music at all! I started working on it about ten o’clock, and it was past midnight when I finished the violin part with the measure numbers written in. I skipped checking the music at this point and started transcribing the whole score. If there were any mistakes, they could find them in rehearsal and if not, then it’ll be what it is. After all, I had to finish this thick book of sheet music by eight o’clock at the latest… But let’s be real, this is impossible! It’s physically not possible to do in seven hours what it would take three people like Igarashi and his team two days and nights to do. But we had to get whatever we could done. As I wrote the names of the parts on the second sheet of the score, I called out to Igarashi, “The piano parts are done. I can’t finish the score by nine o’clock, but I’ll do as much as possible.”

“You’ve finished the violin part already?”

“Really? Wow, that’s fast!” Igarashi picked up the completed part. “I can’t believe this is handwritten! Morimura-san, you could make a living as a transcriber!”

“What? Which one? Wow, that’s great.”

“That’s true, the first violinists are lucky.”

“Ah…” I didn’t have time to be happy even if they praised me. Okay, brass is done. Next is…. but it’s so hot, even with the windows open, because there’s no breeze coming in. The rest of them were wearing only their underwear; they had told me to take mine off too, and I would feel better. So I took my shirt off, though I wasn’t wearing underwear so I was only naked on top, but it’s only guys here anyway. 

I was writing out the harp section on page 43 when I heard, “Oh, it’s finally done!” Oyama exhaled a deep breath and suddenly fell back onto the tatami floor. “It’s already four o’clock and I’m starving,” he said and rummaged through the bag from the convenience store that was left there.

“There’s a ramen if you want it,” replied Igarashi, still moving his pen.

“If you make it for me, I’ll eat it.”

“What about you, Morimura-san?” He asked me. I was about to answer ‘no’ when I remembered that I had skipped dinner, and I was almost at the limit of my energy with my stiff shoulders.

“I’ll eat. I missed dinner.”

“So you want me to make two?”

“No, just one.” I quickly sipped the cup of ramen while reading the rest of the score, and returned to my writing. As I started the fiftieth page, Kikuchi announced that he was done with his work. As soon as he finished his ramen, he flopped down beside Oyama, who had fallen asleep, and he did the same.

“So depressed that they’re done already,” muttered Igarashi. Oyama was snoring, Kikuchi had a peaceful sleeping breath, and the sound of Igarashi and my pens running on the paper… the smell of ramen and the sweat of tired young people… I noticed a cool breeze coming through the window, and when I raised my eyes it was light outside. I breathed in the brief freshness that comes between the tropical night and a hot day. Now only a hundred pages to go.

When Igarashi packed his and the other’s finished bunches of parts into paper bags and left the apartment, I was still wrestling with a job that would take another six hours. The sun was on the way up. The hot room was somehow even hotter; sweat dripped from my hair as I bent over the staff paper, so I wrapped a towel around my head. It trickled down my bare chest and armpits, even on the back of my hand. Sweat gushes out in beads no matter how much I wipe it off, making the pen slip in my hand. I took a short break when I had just started the 100th page. In order to reduce the remaining 50 pages as much as possible, I did one more page in the three minutes I was waiting for the cup o’noodles to be ready, but it took me longer than I thought it would, and the ramen turned into udon. 

As I slurped down the bloated noodles, I thought about how I was too good-natured. I felt like an idiot for staying up all night on a job that has nothing to do with me or Fujimi… speaking of which, I wonder if Tounoin was worried about me. But at this hour, it would be an imposition to make a phone call, and I don’t even know his phone number in the first place… well, it should be ok, I already mentioned that I was doing the transcription, and he should know that it’s a time-consuming job. I finished the soup, drank two glasses of Aquarius to rehydrate myself, and took up the pen to resume work. Ahh, my hands hurt, my eyes are tired… but if I rested now, I wouldn’t be able to finish the job. Give me strength… I wrote the last symbol on the last page, and the long, long job was done. Eighteen hours of work! My fingers were so stiff they creaked when I tried to put the pen down. I took off my glasses, which felt like they were burrowing into my nostrils, and placed them on top of the finished score. I was tired~

Igarashi and his friends had not returned yet. Come to think of it, he said he had rehearsal in the evening. It’s hard for the underclassmen when they’re overworked by their seniors… I was going to just leave my score behind and go back to Tounoin’s place, but when I laid down to stretch my back — which was stiff as a board — I didn’t want to get up again. I decided to sleep while looking after the house until Igarashi returned. Feeling my tired body falling asleep, I patted myself on the back for a job well done. 

—

I smelled food and drink. The sound of voices, sometimes loud and sometimes guttural. It sounded like I was in the middle of a drinking party. I turned over in my sleep, thinking it was too noisy.

“Oh, Morimura-san, are you awake?” I heard Igarashi’s voice say, and felt him come over to look at me. I pretended to still be asleep. They were probably celebrating being done with the transcription, but right now I wanted to sleep more than drink.

“Morimura-san, we have Oden. Hey, Morimura-san.” I didn’t want it, just let me sleep.

“No, he won’t wake up,” I heard Igarashi say to his friends.

“Ah, well he’s a great person. Did you see the score? He rewrote it down to the last page. I admire him,” Kikuchi replied.

“He’s a very serious person, he never makes mistakes on the violin. He practices like a pro, I bet.”

“And he’s cute, too…” Oyama’s voice said, “I didn’t notice it until I saw him sleeping just now. So amazing.” His speech was slurred, so clearly he was drunk.

“Hey, Oyama, don’t be weird,” Igarashi said with a laugh.

“What do you mean ‘weird’? Beethoven and Karajan had male lovers. Genius lives in homosexuality,” after making this startling counterargument, he seemed to stand up.

“Hey Oyama, sit down,” Igarashi said.

“Hehe, just look at him,” he said, and inwardly I frowned as I felt liquored breath on my face. “The more I look at him, the more attractive he is… so cute. Haha, he has such a beautiful chest… and smooth skin… and perky nipples.”

“Hey if Morimura-san wakes up he’s going to kick your ass!” Kikuchi yelled. Oh, I’ll kick his ass alright.

“Beethoven, Karajan… why are you making up that kind of bullshit?”

“Someday you’re gonna get killed, saying that kind of stuff.”

“It’s not bullshit, and I’m a genius. When I see a guy like this I get so horny… he’s so sexy...” The reason I didn’t take action until the person speaking slammed into me was because I was just too tired to bother moving.

“Whoa!” It wasn’t me who screamed, but Igarashi and Kikuchi. My mouth was blocked by the boozy lips stuck to my face. As I struggled, Oyama gasped and said, “You look so sexy, ahh…” as he groped my chest and stomach.

“You idiot! Stop it! Stop it!”

“Oyama, goddamn it, stop!” The two of them were yelling and trying to pull Oyama off of me. 

I twisted Oyama’s ear, which he grabbed with his struggling hand, then I slapped him as hard as I could in the face.“You perverted son of a bitch!” I shouted and glared at him. 

Oyama looked at me soberly, “This… you! You hit me! I’ll fuck you up!!”

“Oyama! That’s enough!”

“I’m sorry Morimura-san, so sorry!”

“Dammit, let me have a shot at him!” Oyama yelled, and still tried to grab at me while being pinned down by Igarashi and Kikuchi. I almost punched him, but I thought twice about it when I noticed a poster of some chamber music group on the wall behind Oyama. That’s right, I’m a violinist, and my hands are my most important tool. I looked around and saw a bottle of wine. I grabbed it in my other hand and swung it over Oyama’s head; he thought I was going to crack his skull, and Igarashi held up his hands in surprise. But what I threw at his head was… alcohol. After I emptied the contents of the bottle on Oyama’s head, I threw the bottle down.

“There, I’ve cooled you down a bit, asshole!” I spat at him between my clenched teeth. I glanced at the three rigid men and put on the clothes I had taken off. Damn it, if I had known I’d get mixed up in something like this, I wouldn’t have agreed to do anything. I stepped into my sneakers and opened the door.

“Oh, Morimura-san, please wait!” Igarashi dashed after me, but I ignored him. “Sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry this happened after you helped me so much. I’m sorry!” Igarashi was crying. “When he gets drunk he turns into a monster, but he usually doesn’t do that sort of thing! I’ve never seen him do anything like that before.”

“So are you saying it’s my fault?” Igarashi fell silent for a moment when I sprayed him with the cold anger that was inside me. I looked at him sideways. Igarashi followed me and wept with a crumpled face. I sighed and stopped. “...I know it’s not your fault. I can’t tell you not to worry about it, though.”

“I’m sorry…!” Igarashi squeaked out and sobbed. “Oh I… I can’t go to Fujimi anymore.”

“...are you saying you’re going to make the cello section vacant?”

“No, because I…”

It came out of nowhere. The blood that had been frozen in the pit of my stomach shot up to my head and I yelled as loud as I could, “Don’t be stupid! Don’t you dare waste that shit score I just transcribed for you! And now I’m repaid by getting teased by a drunk and being told that our only cello is quitting? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Igarashi’s eyes darted as he looked up at me, mumbling, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right, as long as you understand,” I said, and walked away. I thought how the tone of voice I used was like Tounoin’s. Come to think of it, Tounoin… is he worried? It was already night again, and I had left my watch in Igarashi’s apartment, but it was too late to go back. I hurried through the humid night, passing by the convenience store near the apartment. Remembering that I was hungry, I turned around. No, wait, I don’t have any money.  But I went ahead and took a peek at the clock at the cash register before I turned the corner again; just before one o’clock… ‘I wonder if Tounoin is asleep,’ I thought, and then I realized: I don’t have my keys. I still haven’t made another spare since I lost the last one, and the last time I left the apartment I was with Tounoin, so I didn’t realize that I would need it. I’m in trouble… guess I’ll have to camp outside of the door again…

I knocked several times, but there was no answer and the door didn’t open. I twisted the knob, hoping that it would work — the door was unlocked. It was dark in the cool, air-conditioned room, and Tounoin seemed to have fallen asleep. Feeling like a curfew-breaking teenager, I stealthily took off my shoes and entered the room, trying to dampen the sound of my footsteps. Tounoin was in the bed, asleep. I slipped my violin case on the shelf and walked quietly to open the door of the cabin without making any noise. I took a quick shower (the hot water needs some time to come out, but I didn’t want to wake up Tounoin), changed into my pajamas, and crept into the kitchen to get at least a piece of bread. I found a sandwich from the convenience store sitting on the table, a box of cup soup, a cup and a pot of hot water. As I took a bite, my heart was filled with a sincere feeling. ‘You’re a good guy, Tounoin…’ as my rumbling stomach settled down, I was ready to forget about what stupid Oyama had done to me, that damn drunk. I turned off the lights in the cabin and snuck back into the main room. I slipped into the space Tounoin had left open for me, and breathed a sigh of relief.

I heard a half-asleep voice say, “Oh… you’re back…”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Did you finish the transcription?”

“It was an all-nighter, eighteen hours of work.”

“...are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to go to sleep.”

“Good night.”

“Good night,” I said, and I fell asleep right away… around what seemed to be dawn I woke up because it was cold, but it was too much effort to get up and turn off the air conditioner, so I chose to huddle closer to the warmth that was near me. It was so warm… Tounoin seemed to notice and hugged my shoulder, but I was already drifting back to sleep so I didn’t know, and didn’t care. I’m not sure if it’s because I trusted that I would be safe with Tounoin, or because I believed he was different from Oyama and that narcissistic, violent homosexual Yasaka. 

—

The next day was super, as if all the bad luck I had been having was turned upside-down. It was literally my lucky day. First of all, the manager of the bank came to visit me with a gift. He told me that due to a computer processing error, my salary — which should have been deposited into my account — had been transferred to another customer’s account. The manager bowed his grasshopper-like bald head and said, “Please keep this matter to yourself.” He left me a noshi envelope with a greeting card and a brush writing on it. Inside was two months of my salary. I showed it to Tounoin.

“This is how much they gave.” 

He sniffed in frustration, “I’m not sure if that is adequate compensation for their part in causing these difficulties.”

“Well, yes, but it’s all over now…”

“If that’s what you want, then it’s not my place to tell you otherwise.”

“But I feel bad, you know… crashing in front of your apartment and all…”

“I was happy to do it,” Tounoin said, turning away from me with a sigh. I remembered that I needed to find a new apartment as soon as possible; I felt bad staying here forever. 

The second lucky break came at a real estate agency in a neighboring town, where I went separately from Tounoin.

“There’s a one-bedroom and bath for 40,000 yen, a three-year old condo on the 6th floor.”

“In Fujimi-cho?” I was about to jump for it without question, but the old owner’s eyes flashed behind his glasses.

“To be honest, it’s been hard to keep occupied. Since this past April, three people have already left within a month of each other.”

“No way… did somebody just move out again?” The realtor shook his head in disbelief. 

“The person in the apartment above play music loudly at all hours of the night and day. But you can’t complain about it, because it’s occupied by the landlord’s son, so you know…”

What? Could that be…? “Is it a tall apartment building down the corner from a convenience store…?”

“Oh, do you know it? It belongs to the bank president, so the facilities are top-notch, but just that one room on the 6th floor has been vacant since June. The floor is the only part that isn’t soundproof, and nobody could stand the ‘noise’ coming from the ceiling. So the rent has been discounted by 80,000 yen.”

“How big is it?” The realtor gave me a look like I shouldn’t ask, but told me that it was a Japanese-style eight-tatami-mat room with a four-and-a-half-tatami dining and kitchen. It also had AC and heating. “I’ll take it,” I said. “40,000 for a one bedroom with bath, AC and background music is too good to be true, I’d even put up with a ghost or two.”

“Well, if you say so…” the agent pulled out a contract with a face that said ‘Don’t come crying to me later.’ The name on the rental contract was ‘Inmitsu Tounoin.’ I thought of an old gentleman with gray hair, but if he was Tounoin’s father he couldn’t be that old. Rent can be paid via bank transfer; so, he’s the son of a banker, I knew he wasn’t a commoner. I’ve got three months’ deposit and money for the key, plus rent for this month and next month thanks to the ‘condolences’ money from the bank —but that’s a small price to pay for luck. “Ah, also I’d like you to get a guarantor.” The agent pointed to a blank space on the contract, “Here’s where your name and address are, please put your seal here.”

“Is it okay if I bring it back in a couple of days?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Here’s the address. Oh, right, you know where it is, don’t you? Now, the key.”

I took the key and asked, “Which bank president is the landlord?”

“Fujimi Bank, sir?” He looked at me like he couldn’t possibly not know the president of a long-established bank in this area. 

“Oh… and that’s located in…”

“It’s in Seijo. But I’m the property manager. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me.” It seems that I wouldn’t have a chance to cross paths with Tounoin’s father; I was a little curious what kind of person he is. On my way home, I stopped by Ishida-san’s Mozart. 

“Oh, in Tounoin’s building?” He smiled and said, “Well, I’m glad you found a nice place.” He smiled and said, “Since you found an apartment…” he pulled out a cardboard box from under the counter. It was full of sheets, towels, tea bowls, cups, pots and pans… “Kawashima-san is indeed a solid office worker. She made a ‘list of items needed to reconstruct a house’ rather than just gathering donation money, asked people to give their unused items from their houses, and it turned out to be enough for a whole house. That was the idea.”

“She’s going to make a great wife, I’m sure.” She knew that I’d mind if it was money, so she collected practical items. The fish that gets away is always big… “Um, so, could I get some coffee vouchers?”

“You don’t have to give anything back in return.”

“Yes, but I want to give something to Tounoin-san.”

“Oh, I see. So you want some coffee coupons?”

“It’s practical, isn’t it? Please, I’ll take three books of ten vouchers.” Ishida-san smiled a little apologetically; I’m sure that he knows I’m buying them as a way to repay him for the money he gave me when he visited.

“By the way, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Ishida-san stepped up to the counter, changing from owner of Mozart to that of Fujimi caretaker, “For our next piece, why don’t we do Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto?”

“A violin concerto?” 

Ishida-san looked around quickly and whispered with conspiratorial enthusiasm, “I got the hall reserved at the Civic Center. There was a cancellation for Sunday, November 27th.”

“So… would it be a regular concert?”

“Not anymore, it would be a proper concert.”

“Oh, are you sure we have enough time to prepare?” Ishida-san nodded smugly as I was leaning over the counter.

“I was thinking that we should do it this year, now that we have Tounoin-san with us. I really wanted to do it after New Year’s, but I heard that the hall would be under renovation from January to May. I happened across that cancellation, so I jumped at the chance even though I was a bit busy.”

“Yes, I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

“So I thought I’d like to include the Mendelssohn.”

“That sounds great! But… what about the soloist?”

“There’s already one,” Ishida-san pointed at me.

“Me…? I’ll be the soloist?”

“Icchan agrees.” Come on…

“But we’ve never done a piece with a solo before…”

“So that’s why we should do it. It’s good for us to do one once and awhile.”

“But then what about the first violins…”

“We have Goto-chan, Miyake-chan, Kijima-san, Nitta-san, Yoshiko Suzuki-san, Hirota-san… why don’t you ask Haruyama-san to join from the seconds?”

“Then the second violins would be Ichiyama-san, Higashi-san, Hirai-san…”

“Seven people would be enough, right?”

“Yes, in terms of just numbers…” but when it came to balance of competence...

The door chime rang and a group of housewives walked in, and Ishida-san turned to welcome them and prepare some glasses of water. “Well, you should think about it, and discuss it with Tounoin-kun.”

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to do a concerto, but…”

“All the strings were saying that they wanted Morimura-chan to do a solo.”

“Hah...haha.”

—-

On my way home my feet were skipping lightly. ‘We can have a concert, we can have a concert. For the first time in two years, Fujimi can have a concert!’ I ran around the corner, bounded up the stairs and opened the door with my freshly made spare key. The sound of the Brandenburg Concerto hit me, but I was deaf to it today.

“Tounoin! Tounoin! I slid down on my knees in front of him, where he was sitting cross-legged in his usual spot. “We’re having a concert! November 27th!”

Tounoin made a gesture of ‘I can’t hear you, please wait’ and went to stop the music. As soon as the sound stopped, I repeated myself, “A concert has been scheduled! Sunday, November 27th, Shimin Kaikan Hall! Ishida-san was able to get a date because of a cancellation, and asked me if I wanted to play the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto!”

Tounoin looked at me from in front of the console, and I realized that I was very excited in contrast to his calm demeanor. My face flushed. “No, but do you know, it’s been two years since we had a concert.”

“November?” Said Tounoin in a cold voice.

“I know it’s soon, so it’s going to be hard, but it’s at the end of the month… so it’s about three months away, right?

Tounoin’s complexion softened, “It depends on how we do it. I don’t mind.”

“Really? Great…! So…” he glanced at the envelope in my hand.

“Oh, did you get something?”

“I was kind of lucky today, I found an apartment as well.” I pulled the contract out of the envelope, and when I was about to show it to him, I noticed the look in his eyes was somewhat complicated. At once I felt something flutter in my stomach; it was the first time I felt that. “It wasn’t a bad idea to crash here, but it was an emergency situation for both of us. Anyway, the place I got is cheap, well-equipped, and convenient. I’ve already signed the contract.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Tounoin with a deep sigh. If I remained here, it would only cause more suffering… the word ‘Love’ is very similar to the word ‘Strange’...

“Well, actually, I do need a guarantor,” I opened the contract and placed it in front of him. “Would you mind?”

“Yeah, well that’s already...” he said as he picked up the contract with a hand that was trying not to show his reluctance… I froze. I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not, his normally cool, long eyes were round.

“Not bad, huh?” I asked. Tounoin secretly panicked and turned his head, pretending to read the contract. 

“...It’s okay, I guess. How much is it?”

“40,000. But it’s only a minute’s walk to the civic center. I think it’s great. Now, why don’t you say something?”

With his head down, Tounoin patted various pockets. Then, “I’ll go get a pen,” he said.

“I’ll also need your seal,” I said, starting to stand up.

“Please stay here,” Tounoin said, “...I’m afraid I’m going to have to hug you.” Then he ran off into the cabin. I laughed, I couldn’t believe that the man who sells himself on his pride and arrogance lost his nerve like that. Just because I happened to get an apartment in the same building as his, that’s all. Then I felt a stinging pain in my heart at the thought. I got up and went into the cabin, but when I saw Tounoin’s back at the kitchen table, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the right to ask him if he wanted to continue being a snake charmer for the rest of our lives, and it’s hypocritical for me to consider his feelings when I made the decision that I wanted to be his friend and nothing more… I pulled another envelope out of my pocket and approached his back.

I was spoiled by his kindness, but that together with when he agreed to give up on pursuing me, for the time being made us even. “And also this. I don’t know if I can thank you enough, but I mean, I feel…” I put the envelope over his shoulder on the table. 

He opened it as delicately as if it were a sparrow’s tapestry and froze again, but this time he got over it in an instant. “Thank you, I’ll treat you to Mozart’s coffee for the time being.” He turned around and had put on his poker face… ha, he’s not good at accepting this.

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be over there to talk about everything until the performance.” Here as well.

“‘I’ll never go out with you for coffee or dinner,’' He said with a smile, reminding me of what I had told him. After all, this was the game between us. I want to make sure that we are friends, and Tounoin wants to develop into lovers. But I won’t be the one to lose.

—-

I woke up in the middle of the night after being kicked twice. The next morning, while Tounoin was making coffee and I was cooking bacon and eggs, I mentioned it to him.

“Well, you stole the blanket twice and gave me an uppercut,” he replied.

“I think even a double bed is too small for two men.”

When I glared at him, he said, “Well, it’s big enough if you’re embracing each other,” and laughed… that was the first time I ever heard Tounoin laugh out loud. The kitchen here is nice and bright. For the one in my apartment, it remains to be seen.

#long post #light novels #bl light novel #light novel translations #fujimi orchestra #fo #yaoi #yaoi novel #Akizuki Koh #Nishi Keiko #kei x yuuki #orchestra #classical music #tw: noncon

[antibioware]

My final thoughts on Mass Effect: Andromeda (a 3 years late review)

So I spent the past week and a half playing a game I paid 13€ for, one that I promised myself I wouldn't touch but that in the end I gave a solid try to anyway, because I was willing to give Andromeda the benefit of the doubt. Because I'm aware that sometimes I'm a bitch, and that the Mass Effect trilogy had its own problems too, but I still regard it as one of the best gaming experiences of my life.

It wasn't as bad as I had expected it would be, but that doesn't make it good. Above all else, Mass Effect: Andromeda is a game that could have been interesting, had the creators actually cared to make something out of it outside of just “Dragon Age Inquisition in the Mass Effect universe”.

I wanted to write a more coherent post about what I didn’t like about it, aside from just shitting all over it like I’ve been feeling like doing since the canonical bury your gays in the game slapped me in the face. So here it is, an overlong post about a 3 years old game.

Before getting into the main elements that I disliked, I wanna preface this post by saying that I enjoyed parts of the game. The main characters, while not as well characterized as they could have been (no Bioware character ever is), grew on me the more I played the game, and by the end were the main reason why I kept playing. Unlike DA:I, the writers did a really good job building up the found family trope in this game, and while it turns corny at times, it’s very heartwarming. I think many of the planetary settings in Heleus were stunning to look at, to the point that I didn’t even mind all that much having to drive from point A to point B.

I didn’t hate the game, and I’m speaking from the point of view of someone who enjoyed it, but not enough to simply accept its many flaws.

The problems with the gameplay itself

There are three main things that I don’t think work well and are up in your face since the first seconds of the game: the game interface, the fight mechanics, and the open world aspect of the game.

◦ The first impact I had on Andromeda, right from the first 2/3 hours of playing it, was that it was very cluttered and very, very confusing. I had just finished playing ME3 and I had issues understanding how to move without having a proper map onscreen, how to read throught the thousand tutorials for the 100 new, useless elements they added to the game that are either reused from ME1 or taken directly from DA:I. The game didn’t need a crafting system, especially not one DIVIDED IN TWO DIFFERENT SECTIONS, it didn’t need an inventory system, and especially it didn't need to have the sheer amount of sidequest it had.

◦ The fight mechanics + leveling up/classes system is a hot mess. I understand they wanted to try something new, and in part they did make the fighting feel more fluid, but not being able to rely on teammates for necessary stuff like overloads/specific powers that you need during fights severely impaired the strategic element of the game. Now it’s just a third person shooter with teammates dying left and right because you have 0 control on how they fight, aside from putting them in one place or another.

The fact that you can only use 3 powers at the time is a consequence of the confusing leveling up system. Because you can have an endless amount of powers you can give your character, they needed to find a way to make them not too overpowered. The problem is…. You had more powers to use in-game in ME1. It doesn’t work so well.

When the fighting mechanics in ME3, a game that came out in 2012, feel way fluider and more enjoyable than the ones from the game that came out in 2017, something is very wrong.

◦ Open world games are a challenge, because too many developers don’t understand that turning a game into an open world doesn’t make it good, it just makes it bigger and slower. It was a problem with Dragon Age Inquisition, and it’s a problem here with Andromeda - with the only good aspect being that at least Andromeda gives you a decent car to explore the planets.

ME1 had some level of open world-ness, and there was a valid reason why ME2 and ME3 got rid of the concept: the maps you’re given are a big, cluttered mess of nothing. You have several thousands sidequests, many of which incredibly similar to each other, and nothing fucking else. Sometimes you will accidentally stumble upon something interesting, and then return to a 6 hours drive into the nothingness that keeps repeating over and over again.

It got to the point I almost stumbled upon the endgame because I got exhausted of running around doing errands, and I tried continuing the main plot, only to realize I was almost done with it. That was it.

Empty self-referencing

This is the term I used to describe my girlfriend why the way the game made call backs to the previous games bothered me so much. Call backs aren’t new to the concept of the game (the Mass Effect trilogy literally lived on characters returning from previous games, referencing things that had previously happened, etc.), but because this game wanted to be a separate thing from the ME trilogy, it couldn’t use this sort of material. And that’s completely fine! The game wanted to be its own thing, I was happy about it at first, because the trilogy was over and done for. If Mass Effect was indeed gonna continue, it needed a fresh start.

The problem is, it also needed to remind players that it’s a Mass Effect game, the game from which Commander Shepard came.

So, how to solve this matter? Well, instead of referencing stuff that actually happened in the trilogy, it solves the referencing aspect by putting a bunch of relatives of characters from the trilogy in the game. You get Conrad Verner’s sister, Nyreen Kandros’s cousin, a lost illegitimate son of Zaeed Massani, a brief cameo of Garrus Vakarian’s dad, a krogan on New Tuchanka being from clan Urdnot, and so on. And it was funny the first time or so, maybe even the second, but at some point it just turned awkward, and I started asking myself, “is this it? Is this all that’s left of the trilogy, just a bunch of big name characters to remind the player you belong from the same universe?”. The brief way they referenced back to Shepard was also very awkward and felt... out of place, with the rest of the game.

A couple call backs I really liked were:

Liara being acknowledged for her work as a Prothean researcher and being in contant with Ryder Senior, without much reference being done to her time in Shepard’s crew. It was good, seeing her from an outsider perspective.

The fact that Avitus Rix, being a turian ex-Spectre, knew Saren and was in fact his disciple.

Both these elements are things that make sense and tie the game back to the trilogy beyond just going “hey, this x character is the relative of this other x character, isn’t it crazy!”

The plot, and the problem with binary choices

It’s easy to make fun or critique the game struggling to find its own plot after something as big as the ME trilogy was. But Bioware isn’t an indie developer, it’s a huge fucking company, and they could have done better.

While I liked the design of the Remnants architecture and enemies, putting a plot point revolving around an ancient, long lost alien civilization who was much more technologically advanced, sounds a lot like a bad repeat of the Protheans.

I liked the Angara conceptually, but I didn’t like their design all that much and I often found it hysterically funny that angara are supposed to be a deeply emotional race, when the animators left them stuck with those mono expressive faces and unemotional eyes.

And on top of all of this, the kett are boring villains. The exaltation progress is really just a bad repeat of how Reaper indoctrination worked, and the way they talk reminds me of the big bad templars from the Dragon Age universe. It’s literally nothing new, and because of it, it’s boring.

When I was playing the endgame, all I kept thinking was “this is it? this is all they came up with? for real?”. I liked the twins aspect of the endgame, but aside from that, it didn’t feel satisfying.

And now comes the reason why it didn’t feel satisfying: the game got rid of the Paragon/Renegade system from the trilogy, and because of that, they also got rid of the possibility of additional problem-solving solutions during big choices. 

In Andromeda, almost every major quest has a binary choice attached to it: choose this or that. Burn the facility or save all the angara but leave the facility standing. Save the krogans or Raeka. Pick Sloane or Reyes. Keep Sarissa as the Pathfinder or not. Etc.

in the trilogy, complete, important binary choices were rare (choosing Ashley or Kaidan is probably the biggest one) and the consequences had long lasting effects. Not all of them did (saving or killing the rachni in ME1 and rewriting or destroying the geth in ME2 didn’t have so many long term consequences in ME3, for example), but a great deal meant big changes in the following games.

The issues with these choices in Andromeda? None of them matter. Characters will get angry at you for going against their will in a single dialogue line, and then never mention it again. The opinion on the Nexus won’t change if you expose Spender, Addison’s connections to the Exiles, or Nexus people targeting the angara. None of your companions will betray you or leave you for going against their will during their loyalty missions.

A Mass Effect game with choices that don’t influence the final result of the game feels like a joke, and while I know in many ways the trilogy also had a problem on this matter on some parts, dead characters stayed dead and betraying a friend’s trust meant losing them in the near future

The unavoidable part where I mention the issue with LGBT rep in this game because I’m a nonbinary lesbian and I can’t detach that aspect of myself from how I consume media

Endless gays and trans folks out there have already written this sort of matter so as my last point of critique, I’ll make it quick. Bioware has a long story with homophobia and transphobia in its character writing - this without mentioning the huge problems with racism in the character writing, too. Many gay/bi women in Bioware games are written by the same homophobic straight cis man with a lesbo fetish, AKA Lukas Kristjanson, and that alone gives a really good feeling on why such issues exist.

The original Mass Effect trilogy had very little gay romance options, out of the amount of romance options: as of ME3, there are two main gay romance options for fShepard (Liara and Traynor, without counting the mini-romances that were put in the previous games for pure fetish fuel) and two for mShepard (Kaidan and Cortez, both only added in the last game).

Andromeda wasn’t... the big breath of fresh air in the representation department they tried to pass it as. There are more romance options, but for once, there add to add another m/m romance option later on because the only gay romance available were with minor NPCs, and there’s an issue with the amount of content gay romances get compared to main het romances.

There’s a single trans NPC, and it's a random person you meet who tells you her deadname and the reason she transitioned right away. Ugh.

And now we come to the bury your gays mission that made me almost uninstall the game: the mission to find the turian Pathfinder with the help of his partner, the previously mentioned Avitus Rix,  who also happens to be the first gay male turian character in the game (the first gay female turian being Nyreen Kandros, who dies btw). You invest time to trace back to the turian arc, while listening to Avitus talk about how important the turian Pathfinder is to him, you realize pretty fast they’re lovers, and when you find out the turian arc, it’s all to discover that the Pathfinder is already dead. Not a choice in the game that could accidentally kill him, like with Raeka, or an active choice you make to keep him in his role, like Sarissa. He’s already dead, and you’re left with Avitus alone and mourning.

The game is from 2017. This sort of bullshit is unacceptable, and I will keep screaming it until Bioware manages to pretend like they care about their LGBT fans.

To end this mess of a post - Mass Effect: Andromeda lasted me a total of 50 hours of game, and in a way, I’m glad I got it out of my system. It was a delusion, but at least now I can cross it off my list and go back to playing other stuff. I understand that this is a game many ended up liking, and I’m sad I can’t say I’m among them, and that I couldn’t even fully enjoy the game at times. Also I promised myself I wouldn’t mention this but goddamn the facial animations of the game were so ugly.

DESPITE THIS, I really loved the characters, and I very much enjoyed Vetra’s romance, which was the main reason why I bought the game. 

#long fucking post ahead beware #mass effect #mass effect andromeda #me:a

[blouisparadise]

It’s finally time for us to add a second part to our sub bottom Louis rec list! If you’re interested in checking out part one, you can find it here. Happy reading!

1) Give and Take | Explicit | 1837 words

Sometimes Louis just needs.

2) There's No Place I'd Rather Be | Explicit | 2281 words

Harry comes home an hour early and he's in rut. 

3) Blue Eyes, Black Jeans, Lighters, Candy | Explicit | 3629 words

Harry is in Madrid and Louis had a hard week.

4) You Drive Me Wild (You Know You Do) | Explicit | 6632 words

Louis flirts with the Australian interviewers and Harry gets possessive.

5) Call Me Shallow But I’m Only Getting Deeper | Explicit | 7367 words

The one where Louis is a brat so Harry spanks him with a riding crop.

6) Shackles (I Just Want to Praise You) | Explicit | 7562 words

Louis is an extra for a low-budget gladiator movie. His day takes a turn when his shackles turn out to be more than just a film prop, and the production assistant turns out to be helpful in more ways than one.

7) Focal Point | Mature | 8935 words

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking.

Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand.

Don’t forget about me. xx

P.S. Thanks for the money

8) Let The Beating Waves Come Drag Me Down | Explicit | 9447 words

“Just try it, the worst thing that could ever happen it’s that you won’t like it” Niall had told him. And there he was, on the way to one of these pubs created for perverts, willing to break up the routine to try something new, something that terrified as much as excited him.

One night to get swept up in passion, one night to let the devil get in.

"Tonight, I’m going to make you scream of ecstasy Louis,” he said with a raspy voice full of control, making him tremble with anticipation.

9) Night Out | Mature | 9741 words | Sequel

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

10) I’m What You Need, What You Need | Explicit | 9829 words

Overworked, under-rested, and a little sex happy, Louis accidentally sends his boss a rather explicit photo of himself. Being a personal assistant was never supposed to be this high risk.

11) Symptoms Of The Culture | Explicit | 14672 words

Harry's fraternity has become obsessed with the newest online game, and they'd like to think they're getting pretty good at it. Only, they keep getting killed by The Rogue, an online player who has no connection to the Frat, but seems to have a vendetta against them.

12) The Seed Inside You, Baby, Do You Feel It Growing | Explicit | 14796 words

Louis really wants Harry to get him pregnant.

13) Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies | Explicit | 14860 words

“Of course you’d use your free time to go to the gym.”

“Your idea of the best way to spend your free time is annoying your neighbors,” he laughs, dimples carved into his cheeks like marble.

No, Louis likes to annoy Harry. Everyone else on this floor is just an unfortunate casualty.

“No one has complained except for you,” Louis informs him smartly. Which is actually a good thing. If someone other than Harry had complained to him long ago, he would have unfortunately had to stop.

14) Dreams Can’t Take The Place Of Loving You | Explicit | 15496 words

in which Liam is the go-to ring guy, Niall's relentless, Zayn is family, and Harry and Louis are disgusting.

15) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

16) Etched In Salt (Is A Cathedral Of The World) | Explicit | 24416 words

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

17) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

18) Can’t Fool Me | Explicit | 30162 words

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

19) If Ignorance Be Bliss | Mature | 30429 words

Uni AU: Harry is too experienced, and Louis just wants to get to experience him.

20) Cupid’s Chokehold | Explicit | 35526 words

Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn't work out as planned.

21) And Touch Me Like You | Explicit | 35971 words

The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

22) Falling Into Place | Explicit | 40757 words

Louis and Harry spend nine years apart but inevitably find their way back to each other.

23) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 45152 words

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

24) It’s A Long Way Down | Explicit | 52658 words

It’s June 2013, and the legalization of gay marriage is the most discussed political issue in the country. As a member of parliament Louis Tomlinson has decided to do everything under his power to keep marriage between a man and a woman. Little does he know a boy with green eyes and pink lips from his past is on a mission to change his mind.

25) Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) | Mature | 54609 words

Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.

Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

He also starts to fall in love with Harry.

Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

26) Nobody Does It Like You | Not Rated | 58520 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis isn't looking for a home, but he finds one in Harry.

27) This Feeling | Explicit | 58875 words

A Larry Duet AU.

28) Into The Midnight Sun | Explicit | 63253 words

It's 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn't easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

29) Why Can’t It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

30) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

31) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194780 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child.

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

32) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Mature | 196073 words

The one where Louis is banished from his tribe, and lands himself in Harry's instead. The alluring Pack Alpha makes Louis question his nature and he doesn't know how he feels about that. But you can't fight destiny.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #dom/sub #sub louis #dom harry #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs

[thiswasinevitableid]

“Listen you need to dance with me right now” pairing and scenario of your choice

Here you go! I went with Indruck and a college-ish AU

“Listen, you need to dance with me right now”

Duck turns around in the black pleather booth and finds a man about his age, silvery hair tousled out at odd angles and red glasses perched on his nose, smiling at him nervously. 

“Not beatin around the bush are you?” He smirks.

“Huh? Oh, ah, this is not a flirtation attempt, Ah, that is, not that you are unappealing, just, nevermind, this was foolish.”

He turns away, and Duck grabs his elbow, “whoah, hey, didn’t say I wasn’t interested. Not about to turn down a dance from a cute guy.”

Tension drains from the man’s shoulders as Duck stands leads them towards the strobing light of the dance floor, “Thank goodness. Wait, what did you say?”

“I said” Duck pulls him close as the current song winds down, “I think you’re cute, sugar.”

“There’s no need to pretend that’s true. As I said, this isn’t about flirtation.” 

“Then what is it about?”

His new friend thinks as the tempo grinds down to slow beat, couples flowing on and off the floor around them. It’s the kind of gay bar where anyone who falls under the rainbow banner can go to look for a partner. Duck himself is on the hunt for something to banish the taste of a bad break-up from his mouth. 

His original plan for the night involved sitting in the dark in his bedroom, watching nature documentaries until he no longer felt the dull heartbreak oozing in his chest. But Juno, his roommate, insisted he come with her for a night on the town.  So he’d settled on a new plan: get laid by someone who likes hairy guys with some fat on top of their muscle in hopes of not remembering all his insecurities, ones drilled deeper under his skin by his exes parting words. 

The man currently holding his hands with all the confidence of a freshman at their first homecoming dance hadn’t been on his radar until a minute ago. For the life of him, Duck can’t figure out why. Sure, he’s weird and messy, but he’s so singular looking Duck’s amazed everyone in the room isn’t trying to cut in.

“It’s about keeping you safe.” The man whispers, jarring him from his thoughts, their proximity the only reason Duck can hear him over the music. 

“Come again?”

“Do you see that gentleman who just walked in?”

Duck turns them in time to see a blonde man with the build of a water-polo player enter the bar.

“Mr. Salmon T-shirt?”

“Correct. Had you not danced with me, there was a high chance he would ask you instead. All would have gone well until you two decided to use the back alley for some, um, quick relief to the fact you were both very turned on. It would be at this point that he would try something you did not want, you’d push him away, and he would punch you before slinking back inside. I assumed you’d prefer not to end your night with a black eye.”

“Got that right. So if you’re dancin’ with me for my own good, what happens to him?” 

The man’s face goes worryingly blank, then he shakes his head as if clearing it, “he gets very drunk very quickly, starts spouting unkind words at Joseph over there and promptly gets bounced by the bartender.”

Duck snorts, “that’s what he gets for talkin shit near Barclay. Think the only thing that actually makes that man mad is when someone is rude about his boyfriend.”

“That’s my experience as well.”

“You know Barclay too? I mean, not just as a bartender?”

“Correct. You know how he has someone living in a trailer on his land?”

“Yeah? Wait, holy shit, you’re Indrid?”

A nod.

“I’ll be damned, Dani kept sayin she wanted to introduce us. I’m-”

“Duck Newton.” Indrid says along with him.

Okay, that was a little weird. 

“Y’know, s’okay if you actually hold onto me while you’re apparently savin me a fight.”

Indrid presses closer, but his hold on Duck is still light, as if he’s afraid of trapping him. A happy sigh drifts between them.

“You’re so warm. It’s very nice.” Indrid murmurs

Duck draws Indrid’s hand close to his mouth, blowing across the chilly fingers. Another sigh, Indrid actually curling his arm around Duck’s shoulders. He seems to relax when Duck talks, so he says the first thing he can think of.

“You’re in the art grad program, right?”

“Indeed. You’re in forestry, yes?”

“Yep.”

“Fascinating.”

“That ain’t the usual reaction.” Duck smiles up at him, “Once you start talking about tree taxonomy or forest health, people’s eyes start glazin over.”

Indrid cocks his head, “How does one measure the health of something as complex as a forest?”

And so Duck spends two songs explaining the answer, Indrid listening attentively and asking questions. Thank god the DJ is in a slow jam mood, so he doesn’t have to shout about pest control over some sort of horrible, rapid bass-line.  Not wanting to be rude, he spends song number three asking Indrid about how he chose illustration as his focus in his art program.

By the end of the song, Indrid’s left hand has slipped into Duck’s back pocket, and Duck knows he won’t be interested int dancing with anyone else for the rest of the night.

He gives his best sweet southern boy grin and nuzzles Indrid’s cheek. 

“Gotta say, think you win for creative excuses for askin a guy to dance.”

Indrid deflates and hunches in on himself, his hands dropping from Duck’s body, though he otherwise stays put.

“It’s not an excuse. I was just trying to help.”

“Indrid, how could you possibly know what was gonna happen?”

“I just can!” He snaps, recoiling instantly at the sound, “I can see the future. I’ve always been able to. Not that anyone, save for a few close friends, believes me when I tell them.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “there are no longer futures where you get punched, so I will leave you alone.”

“Indrid, wait, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, Duck, I’m not upset. Enjoy the rest of your night.” Indrid turns away.

“Do you wanna go grab something to eat?” He thought through the offer for exactly zero seconds, but he knows it’s what he wants the moment he says it. 

Indrid blinks at him, then smiles small and odd, “That was...unexpected.”

Duck holds his breath.

“I accept your offer.” The grin is wider now, to the point that it’s a bit unnerving. Indrid must notice, and forces the smile to a normal size, “where would you like to go?”

Duck takes his hand, leading him out into the night and down the street. There’s a Mel’s Diner standing mostly empty on the corner two blocks away, and they slip inside. Duck orders a burger and fries, Indrid an orange creamsicle shake. The taller man’s fingers drum on the Formica table top.

He waffles on what he wants to say, how much he wants to share.

“Sometimes a glowing blue woman appears in my room.” 

Indrid’s eyebrows shoot to the top of his head, “there was only one future where you admitted that.”

“You actually believe me?”

“Of course. Why would you lie about such a thing?”

“I….I dunno.” Duck shrugs, rubbing his forearm, “tried tellin one or two other people and they looked at me like I was losin it. Been happenin since I turned eighteen, along with these weird vision-y dreams. Gets kinda old.”

“And you’re telling me because you think the fact I see the future makes me more likely to believe you.”

“Yeah. Uh, did you see that comin or just connect the dots?”

“Both. I take it you believe me now?” Indrid fiddles with the drawstring on his sweatshirt.

“Did the second I saw how hurt you looked.  Know exactly what bein on the wrong side of disbelief feels like.” Duck pauses as the server sets down their food, “Let me buy you dinner as an apology?”

“Gladly.” Indrid sips his milkshake, and Duck freezes mid-bite at the way his cheeks hollow and the little sigh of pleasure he lets out.

Indrid catches him staring, and licks his lips with a smirk. Duck hides behind his burger. 

“So, uh, why were you at the bar?”

“Bear hunting.” Indrid deadpans. It’s only when a blush splashes up Duck’s cheeks that he breaks into a smile, “I’m kidding. Mostly. I’ve been trying to get out more. I can be a bit reclusive, as I like my privacy and my hobbies and coursework are all solitary. You?”

“Gettin over an ex.” He shoves fries into his mouth, not quite ready to say more. Somehow that topic is even more intimidating than revealing his weird powers. Indrid nods in understanding, polishing off the first half of his shake with terrifying speed. Roy Orbison wails “Only the Lonely” from the Jukebox.

“Hardly the music for it. Hmm” Indrid flips through the options on the table-side music selector. The pink and blue neon flashes through the window and along the angles of his face. He looks so ethereal.

Duck is so screwed.

“Ah, here we are.” Indrid digs into his pocket, pulling out a quarter and dropping it into the machine. 

After a few moments, a voice croons from the speakers.

Love me tender, love me sweet

“Fan of the classics, huh?” Duck rests his elbow on the table and his cheek in his palm.

“I find Elvis and his contemporaries pleasant to draw to.”

“Know what else they’re good for?” Duck bounces his eyebrows. 

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it anyway.”

Duck slides out of the booth, holds out his hand, “Dance with me?”

Indrid takes it, and this time he doesn’t hesitate. His arms drape around Duck, and his head nestles onto his shoulder.

Duck sways them in time with the song, arms around Indrid’s waist. 

“Indrid?”

“Hmm?”

“I meant what I said earlier. About you bein cute. And I really like talkin with you. Would you, uh, wanna go on a date sometime?”

Chapped lips find the base of his neck, and Indrid kisses a slow line up until they’re gazing at each other. 

“Nothing would make me happier, Duck.”

Duck draws his fingers along Indrid’s face, leans in and kisses him in time with the fading melody.

“In that case, sugar, how about you and I go dancing tomorrow night?”

#reader request #Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #duck x indrid

[sonicrainicorn]

A New Kind of Stupid

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 2631 Desc./Prompt: Patton had always been too good at lying. TW: Infidelity, alcohol, slight descriptive make out scene

Get ready for an angst fest, folks

///

The veterinary field was a woman-heavy space. In Patton's work, there were only three men: Thomas Sanders, Alec Williams, and himself. Alec was a veterinarian. He was engaged to a beautiful woman that Patton had the pleasure of meeting a few times. She was very sweet. Thomas was the receptionist. He was currently between relationships. Patton was a vet tech -- a nurse for animals. He was married to Logan and they had two eleven-year-old twins, Roman and Virgil.

One day, another male entered the workforce: Bailey Foster.

Bailey turned out to be another vet. He was single and a huge flirt. Topped with good looks and a wonderful personality, it was almost as if he came straight out of a Disney movie. All the women fawned over him during his first week. Even some of the owners of their patients were captivated by his charm.

Thomas and Alec started a betting pool with each other to see if the ever-enchanting Dr. Foster was "in the closet or straight as a stripper's pole" (in Alec’s words). Whoever won had bragging rights and free lunch for a week. So a lot was on the line.

Patton watched on with amusement as the two tried to prove themselves right. Anytime one of them talked to him, it seemed as if it went in either of their favors. The times they weren't in direct contact with him weren't any easier. He smiled at everyone, flirted with women, and made men blush, but they were determined to have a winner.

It wasn't until they were in the break room one day that they had their answer.

Alec and Thomas were sitting at the table arguing over something nerdy (as was their custom) and Patton was searching the fridge for a tub of what was probably spaghetti that he left a few weeks ago. He needed that tub back. He had been bringing lunch in one of the twins' old snack containers for the past few days.

"Aha! There you are," Patton murmured to himself. He grabbed the tub of spaghetti(?) and closed the fridge. He yelped and jumped back when he saw someone standing where the door was.

Bailey laughed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just came for my water."

Patton let out an embarrassed smile. "If I knew you were standing there I would've gotten out of your way." He took a step back from the fridge. "All yours."

"Was that an invitation for you or the fridge?" Bailey smirked.

The tub almost fell from Patton's hands. He sputtered before remembering how words work, "The fridge." He felt Alec and Thomas's eyes burning into his back. It made his face heat up even more. "That invitation is reserved for someone else."

"Hmm." Bailey opened the door and grabbed the water bottle waiting there for him. "Lucky them." He winked before leaving.

The only sound heard for a moment or two was the beating in Patton's chest. Then Thomas shot up from his seat, scrapping the chair along the floor, and shouted at Alec, "He's gay! He's super gay!"

"I refuse to believe that!" Alec stood up to be even with Thomas. "Have you seen how he looks at Emily? Patton --!" He pointed at said person, who jumped in response -- "final verdict."

Patton floundered. He must have looked like an idiot standing in the middle of the break room with a tub of expired food and a burning face. He felt like one, that's for sure. "Uh, he's definitely not straight."

Alec shouted in anguish while Thomas cheered.

Neither of them was aware of how Bailey made Patton's heart flutter.

Over the next month, Dr. Foster became a favorite among the staff and pet owners. He began talking to Patton as often as possible after their first interaction and it left Patton confused. Bailey always managed to make him stumble over his words or blush and there was no reason he should. He was in love with Logan. He was married to Logan. He adopted children with Logan. There should be no one else he wanted.

So he felt a little guilty when he agreed to go to Bailey's party... without Logan.

"You know I don't mind not leaving the house," Logan said. "But may I remind you the last time you went to a party without me?"

Patton felt instant embarrassment. "Thomas will be with me --"

"That doesn't instill confidence."

"-- and he swore not to drink this time. He even set a reminder on his phone. Plus, the twins are old enough to not want to be tucked in by me so we won't have a repeat of last time." He mumbled that last part of the sentence to himself.

Logan raised a brow and returned to his book. "What time will you be back, then?"

"Late."

Logan peeked at him over his glasses. "I expect you to call me this time -- and not for weird science facts."

Patton grinned. "Sure thing, bumblebee."

~~~

Patton may or may not have been drunk. 

It wasn't like he was going to deny the drinks people had worked hard to make -- that would have been rude. If not being rude meant taking countless amounts of shots and a tequila sunrise or two then so what? He wasn't harming anybody.

After an undisclosed shot number, Patton lost sight of Thomas. The last time they were near each other was when he tossed a water bottle at him from the outside cooler. Deciding that was a good place to start, Patton stumbled outside.

There weren't many people out there. There were couples here and there and the occasional trio, but there was one person by himself. Bailey was leaning against the short, back wall overlooking the slope down. There was a great view of the city that Patton became drawn to.

"I feel like I came here to ask you something, but I don't remember," Patton slurred to Bailey.

Bailey raised a brow in a way that was reminiscent of Logan. "Was it maybe some advice on whether or not you should keep drinking?"

Patton snorted and took a sip of... something. He kind of forgot what it was but it was pretty good. "I 'ave a full cape-bility to stop whenever I want." He set the cup down on the wall.

"I hope you don't take offense to this, but I don't believe you."

Patton laughed. "You're probably right." Logan was most of his impulse control.

Bailey gave him a fond smile. "Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful, Pat?"

"Me? Uh, like once in middle school I think." He couldn't recall another time. "Why?"

"Because you are." Bailey got a little closer. "You have the prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen, the most gorgeous smile, and a wonderful mop of hair."

"I think you're too kind." Patton grinned. He grabbed his cup with the intention of drinking some more but was stopped. It slipped from his fingers and splashed onto the other side of the wall.

Bailey pressed their lips together.

Patton pulled away a bit. There was a tiny corner of his brain screaming at him to stop -- to find Thomas and go home to his husband and children -- but the rest of his alcohol-fueled mind was slow to catch up. He stood there and let Bailey connect their lips again.

The kiss was gentle -- loving almost. It was as if Bailey feared Patton would break if he applied any more pressure. Which was untrue, of course. Patton could handle a lot more than his soft appearance gave him credit for.

Bailey put his hands on Patton’s hips. His movements weren’t forceful. Quite the opposite actually; they seemed rather timid. Like he was asking for permission. Patton didn’t turn him down. In fact, he pulled him closer, much to the dismay of the moral corner in his head.

Apparently, Bailey took this as a good sign to keep going because he deepened the kiss. He lowered his hands to Patton’s thighs to lift him up onto the wall.

This caught Patton by surprise. To put it politely, he was never the receiving player in any of the games he engaged in. Though the part of him that was very drunk didn’t mind the turn of events. His husband wasn’t a fan of stuff like this, so they rarely ever did anything passed kissing -- even more so now that they had the twins. It was a rather relieving change to most of him. That annoying corner wouldn’t stop screaming.

Bailey’s hands started roaming and Patton did nothing but bring him even closer. It was turning into a heated make-out session faster than either of them anticipated. Bailey started trailing kisses down to Patton’s neck, searching for that spot that made him take a sharp breath. After teasing and leaving Patton breathless, Bailey slammed their lips back together.

This was what Patton had been secretly wanting for so long. Physical affection is something he thrived under, though he’d rather die before admitting that those needs weren’t always met with his husband. His loving husband. Who loved him very much. A man who loved him enough to push away his own thoughts on weddings just so Patton could have the one he always dreamed of.

Logan.

Oh God, wait.

Those weren’t Logan’s lips. Those weren’t Logan’s hands. That wasn’t Logan’s body trying to get as close as he could. This wasn’t Logan. This wasn’t Logan. This wasn’t Logan. This wasn’t Logan.

Patton’s eyes snapped open and he pushed Bailey away. Then he saw Thomas.

Thomas stood at the open doorway, staring right at Patton. He was frozen to the spot. He looked both horrified and shocked at what must have been a rather compromising scene in front of him.

Oh no.

Patton jumped down from the wall. He muttered an apology to Bailey as he shouldered passed him to run toward his brother-in-law. He grabbed Thomas by the arm and started dragging him back inside the house so they could leave. 

Though not before Thomas glanced back at Bailey one last time.

Patton didn’t say anything on the walk to the car. He didn’t say anything when the engine started. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Thomas had to be the first one to speak.

“Patton,” it was like a taut rubber band, “I... I honestly don’t know how to even begin. What, what was that? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Patton muttered.

“You don’t know?” Thomas laughed. Bitter and flabbergasted. “That’s a great excuse. Are you gonna say that to Logan? ‘Oh, I don’t know, honey, I just started making out with my co-worker. Oops. My bad.’“ He glanced at Patton. “Are you gonna tell him at all?”

“No.”

“What? Patton!” Thomas slammed on the brakes. There weren’t any other cars around. “You can’t just keep something like that from him. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Patton was surprised that those words left his lips at all.

So was Thomas. He stared at Patton in disbelief. His eyes scanned the other’s face as if he couldn’t believe that the same person who cried at humane society ads was still sitting next to him. “Are you serious?”

Patton had to look out the window to avoid Thomas’s gaze. He was too drunk for this. “I-I don’t know.”

“You have to say more than ‘I don’t know’, Patton.” Thomas was pissed. It took a lot to make Thomas angry -- even more to make him pissed -- yet Patton succeeded. “You need to answer me and you need to do it now.”

“I’m sorry --” Patton felt tears coming on.

“You’re sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Patton. Sorry isn’t going to take anything back. You can’t expect sorry to wipe away what you’ve done.”

He shouldn’t have expected any sympathy. Logan was Thomas’s baby brother, after all. “I don’t.” There was a lump in the back of his throat. It started burning. “I can’t tell him, Thomas, please you have to understand.”

“Why the hell not? You messed up, Patton, he deserves to know.”

“That’s why I can’t!” Patton didn’t care that the tears started coming out -- that wasn’t his main concern. Thomas was pissed at him over a stupid mistake. That’s all it was. It was a stupid mistake. “I messed up. I ruined his trust. I had all the opportunities to stop but I didn’t. I just...” I wanted it. “Oh, God, what did I do?” He covered his face with his hands.

Thomas didn’t say anything for a moment. There was anger flowing off of him in ways it never had before. “I’m going to call Logan --”

“No! Wait! Please.” Patton grabbed Thomas’s arm to stop him from reaching his phone. “I’ll tell him, I swear I will, I just need time.” Now he was a sobbing mess. “Please just give me time.”

The anger began melting off of Thomas’s face, though he still seemed upset. “Let’s get you home,” he sighed.

~~~

Thomas took off the moment Patton was out of his car. Under normal circumstances, he would have waited for Patton to make it safely in the house, but the events of the night seemed like an exception to this. Patton couldn’t even argue with that.

He stumbled his way to the door and dropped his keys a few times before he made it inside. The stupid door got stuck when he tried to close it, making him push on it in order to get it into the frame. The loud shudder made him cringe.

“Patton?”

Patton jumped and spun around. On the couch was Logan. He was rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up -- which he probably had, judging by the state of his, well, everything. One of the TV trays was in front of him with a messy stack of papers. Papers were a bit everywhere in general. He was always messy when he graded tests.

“L-Lo? What, what are you doing here?” Patton dropped his keys into the basket. “Why aren’t you in bed? Or in your office?”

“I didn’t know when you would be back.” He yawned. “You said you would be out for a while, but it didn’t feel right trying to go to bed without you when you might be expecting me.”

There was a pang in Patton’s heart, but he ignored it and brought out a smile. “I wouldn’t have minded, Lo-Lo. If you’re tired, you’re tired.”

“Redundant.” He stood up and stretched. “I assume you drank an unnecessary amount?”

“Why would you assume that?”

Logan raised a brow. A brief image of Bailey flashed in his mind. “You tend to shorten my name when you’re drunk.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Guess I’m a bit easy to read, huh?” That might not have been the best thing to say when lying to your husband’s face.

“Well, I hope you didn’t do anything stupid.”

Patton managed to keep the grin from falling off.

Logan walked up to him to give him a peck on the lips. “You taste like alcohol,” he mumbled as he put his head on Patton’s shoulder. Sleepy Logan was always more affectionate than awake Logan. “I don’t like it.”

Patton wrapped his arms around Logan’s smaller frame and held him close. He wanted to cry again. What was he thinking? Bailey couldn’t hold a candle to Logan. Logan was precious to him. He was smart and dorky and tiny and sweet. There were so many little things that Patton loved -- like the way he pouted when he got something wrong, or how flustered he got when he was forced to ask for help reaching the top shelf. Bailey wasn’t worth it at all.

“Luckily, I’m never drinking again.”

[Part Two]

#so i thought of the prompt #and then angst happened #this has been sitting in my drafts #for two whole years #oh my god #also #anything i touch for a prolonged period of time #turns to angst #and i'm so sorry #this started out as a domestic fluffy au #now look at it #sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #logicality #infidelity tw #alcohol tw #berry done au

[fantasyinvader]

I kinda want to do a post on heel-face turns with regards to Edelgard. Specifically, those done by Kamen Rider over the last few years.

Let’s start with this year’s model, Gai Amatsu or as I like to call him Bitchboy.

What did he do? Well, in addition to owning an extremely punchable face when he got to work with his idol on creating a city where man and robots live together, Gai sabotagued the project because (due to his upbringing) he couldn’t accept the idealistic goals of the project. Instead, he only viewed it as a matter of profits. So, he showed the satellite that was supposed to oversee the city the worst of humanity. This taught the machine to hate humanity, believing they should go extinct, causing the city to end up at the bottom of a lake. However, some robots survived and went to form a terrorist cell...which Gai covertly aided.

Gai is the cause of everything that happens in the series, and once he’s introduced he proceeds to challenge Hiden Intelligence to a contest in order to take them over. The robots they create versus humans equipped with his Zaia Spec, a pair of glasses that allows hooks a person’s mind up to a computer. Gai initially talks about humanism and how the robots are just tools. However, he’s shown to cheat, drive the robots berserk in order to have an excuse to kill them, corrupt the hero’s belt so all he has is a transformation that sends him into a berserk rampage, reveals that he has chips in the brains of Fuwa and Yaiba to control them (in addition to wiping Fuwa’s memories and implanting traumatic ones to turn him against the robots) and does everything to turn people against the robots so he can sell both Zaia specs and weapons.

How does he turn into a hero? Well, after he won the contest and took over Hiden Intelligence, the show basically shat all over him. He lost time and time again, to weaker riders who were discovering their own dreams. His victory was all for nothing, but then when it was revealed the terrorist robots could hack not only Zaia specs but also Raidraisers and send people berserk, Gai decided to promote Raidraisers as a means to protect yourself. Even arranging to corrupt the code of the Zaia specs to make them even more hackable in order to drive up sales. The people working under him have enough and collect evidence of his wrongdoings to get him kicked out of his position.

At his lowest point, Gai reveals his backstory of having a father who told him he had to strive for not 100% but 1000%. He also gets reunited with the only friend he had, the AI of a toy dog he owned as a child. This dog acts as his morality pet and saw Gai turn to the heroes side...which everyone feels is just super weird, out of character, and still hold him accountable for all the shit he’s caused. The show doesn’t drop what he did, it just acknowledges there’s a bigger threat now.

Next up is Gentoku Himuro, from Kamen Rider Build.

Gentoku was present when an alien artifact from Mars activated, creating walls that split Japan into three countries as well as having an effect on his mind. He became more aggressive as a result. Wanting Japan reunified under his pacifist father, Gentoku founded Faust, a secret organization that created weapons in addition to human experimentation. He does a lot of scummy things, including triggering the war to reunify Japan, before he is exposed and his father disowns him.

In an attempt for more power, he is further experimented on. However, this clear up the effects of the alien light, causing him to return to his normal state of mind. He continues to fight because he is forced to due to a bomb planted in his head, and feels guilt over what he has done. Though he also still believes he’s doing this in the name of the greater good. It’s even in his Rider catchphrase.

"Be a sacrifice for the greater good!"

He eventually wises up to what’s really going on, and leaks information to the heroes. Eventually, the bomb is removed but his father ends up taking a attack for him, dying as a result. Since everything he did was to give Japan to the one person he believed should govern it, he falls into depression and ends up joining the heroes seeking atonement for all he’s done. He eventually begins to understand what his father believed, that the power of the leader comes from his people, and in the end sacrifices himself in order to weaken the final boss (see above).

Next up is everyone’s favorite meme, Kuroto Dan.

As a teenage game designer hailed as a genius, Dan discovered a version of the Y2K bug that could infect human beings through exposure, digitalizing them if they succumb to it. This included his mother. However, at the time a young boy sent fanmail to him, which included a few suggestions for what he’d like to see in the next game. This enraged Dan to the point of sending a game with the virus to the boy, turning him into Patient Zero to spread it among the population. This boy ended up being the series lead, Emu.

People ended up being digitalized because of this, in addition to some committing suicide. Dan made it a point to appear to fight this problem in addition to the video game characters coming to life and attacking people, creating the Kamen Riders. But in reality, it was all a ploy for him to collect data to make the greatest video game ever, Kamen Rider Chronicle. He also wanted to see Emu suffer, and killed/digitalized Kiriya (Kamen Rider Lazer), who was investigating what was going on, during the Christmas episode. Eventually, he was stopped by Emu using what amounted to a game shark, but the data was enough for the video game characters to begin Kamen Rider Chronicle so that they could kill humans in revenge for them being killed in their games.

Kamen Rider Chronicle saw people turn into pseudo-riders, able to fight the Bugsters. When one of them defeated all of the bosses, the final boss would appear and the player would be able to transform into Kamen Rider Cronus with more powerful abilities to defeat them. When the game is cleared, that player would be the hero of mankind and all the digitalized people would be released. However, once you start playing you end up infected with the virus, needing to seek out the bosses to keep yourself alive. If you lose, you end up digitalized. Tough, but Kuroto intended for the game to be clearable.

That is until his father came in, and attempted to use it to assert control over the world in addition to claiming Cronus for himself. This led to the heroes searching for and finding a backup of Dan’s data, allowing him to return and aide them (giving Emu his final form based off the stars in Mario along with a save option to stop Cronus from resetting things). This coincided with him declaring himself a genius and a fucking god, and his control freak tenancies made it so that he wanted the game to be cleared as it was intended.

However, they still held him accountable for what he did and at the end of the series was shown in digital jail for his crimes.

Finally, the former owner of the title of Bitchboy. Mitsuzane “Micchy” Kureshima

Micchy actually starts off on the Heroes side, as Kamen Rider Ryugen. A rich kid dancing with Kouta’s old group, Micchy looked up to Kouta and when Kouta was unsure if he wanted to continue as Gaim after nearly dying, Micchy used his family name to become Ryugen and aide him.

However, as time went on a dark side of Micchy emerged. He wanted Kouta to do as he wanted while Kouta was more prone to heroic actions. Micchy also discovered that one of the monsters Kouta killed was the leader of their dance group as he ends up under the wing of his brother, Takatora aka Kamen Rider  Zagetsu. Following his brother’s belief that they would have to make hard decisions in order to survive, Micchy ends up undermining Kouta and the other’s attempts to deal with the threat of Helheim.

However, when Kouta reveals to Takatora there may be an alternative to solving the problem rather than leaving most of humanity to die, Takatora wants to work with him on this. This angers Micchy as once again Kouta isn’t doing what he wants, and now his brother is as well. This leads to him attempting to kill his brother, assuming his identity and Zangetsu Shin, and attacking Kouta in disguise. As time passes, Micchy is shown to try and save those he wants, including the girl he likes.

He eventually gains even more power and seemingly kills his brother yet again. Then he attempts to kill Kouta, whose power is slowly turning him into a Overlord of Helheim. The girl he likes is killed from having her heart removed by the guy who told Micchy to kill Kouta, though she ends up gaining god-like powers from the McGuffin that was implanted in her heart.

In the end, Micchy has lost his friends, the girl he likes, Kouta and her go off to be gods on some distant planet while also saving Earth. Micchy has lost nearly everything, with the exception of his brother who barely survived the last fight. His brother helps him cope with what he’s done, and as the last person able to fight and transform Micchy resolves himself to be the hero Kouta was in atonement for his actions.

Trust me, Micchy’s fall to villainy is gradual and very well done.

These are characters who all, to varying degrees, go from villains to heroes. And these are all in children’s shows. But how does Edelgard make the transition? Simple.

She doesn’t.

Crimson Flower isn’t a route about Edelgard redeeming herself. Fuck no. Instead it’s about the player, after seeing all that she’s been a party to during the first half, deciding to join her. There’s no atonement from her, instead it’s all based on the idea that everything she’s done was right, while she argues some form fo the greater good. You absolved her of the events of part 1 by joining her, while part 2 implies there’s a whole bunch of shady stuff she’s keeping from you. You endorsed her actions during White Clouds, believing she wasn’t the heel but rather the face.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts: Bets, Wagers & Pranks

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Re: Harry's Crush by lettersbyelise Rated:  Teen Words:  3700 Tags:  Epistolary, Bets & Wagers, Aurors, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Humor, Banter Summary:  Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs. A fic where the interdepartment betting war at the Ministry gets out of hand, Millicent and Hermione get scheming, Harry Potter ends up wearing black eyeliner, and everybody ends up getting more than they bargained for. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Another Heart Whispers Back by slytherco Rated:  Explicit Words:  53,693 Tags:  Friends to Lovers, Auror Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Oblivious Harry Potter, Virgin Harry Potter, Unrequited But Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Casual Intimacy, Humor, Comedy, Blind Date, First Dates, Bets & Wagers, Meddling, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Making Out, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Post-Coital Cudding, Shower Sex, Tattooed Harry Potter, Magical Tattoos, Taste of Smut 2020 Summary:  At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates. “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Lost Bet by DragonGirl87 Rated:  Explicit Words:  60864 Tags: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Barista!Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Divorced Draco Malfoy, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Leaves the Wizarding World, Writer!Harry Potter, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Famous Harry Potter, Coffee Shops, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, Older Harry Potter, Older Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, London, Godric's Hollow, Making a Bet, losing a bet, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Single Parent Harry Potter, Stay-At-Home Parent Harry Potter, Firewhiskey (Harry Potter), Drunken Confessions, Hangover, Flirting, Friendship, Teasing, Banter, Kissing, Snogging, Groping, Frottage, Sassy Harry Potter, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Surprise Ending, Hogwarts, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Happy Ending, Inappropriate Use of Last Names Summary:  It is 2019 and Harry Potter, Ex-Auror turned full-time dad and writer of magical children's books, finds himself making a startling discovery about none other than his former school rival Draco Malfoy. Just where will this relationship, rekindled over several cups of exquisite coffee, lead those two men? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Age is just a number by gnarf Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1555 Tags: Old Age, Humor, Fluff, Established Relationship, Dementia, Plot Twists, Shoplifting, Just Add Kittens, Muggle London, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary:  Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Passwords by carpethefanfics Rated:  Not Rated Words:  2631 Tags: NSFW, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Eighth Year Hogwarts Summary:  What if everyone knew about Draco’s crush on Harry (and Harry’s crush on Draco) and Pansy decides, with the help of one Hermione Granger, to come up with passwords for the Eighth Year Dorm each week that will torture one of them into admitting it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 sign me up for that full-time by M0stlyVoid Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4037 Tags: Fred Weasley Lives, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Accidental Love Confessions, Fluff, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary:  Harry should have learned by now to never trust anything the Weasley twins try to pass off as a thoughtful holiday gift, no matter how innocuous it might appear. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 No Greater Victory by dicta_contrion Rated:  Explicit Words:  26951 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Bets & Wagers, Diary/Journal, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Scheming, Blackmail, Recreational Drug Use, Casual Sex, Snark, Draco starts out as an angry defensive arse, Personal Growth, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Switching, First Time, Making Love, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending Summary:  Back at Hogwarts after the war, a defeated Draco Malfoy is prepared to settle for life's simpler pleasures: snark, sex, and Slytherin scheming. That is until Pansy, newly in possession of Malfoy Manor, offers to return his ancestral home. Just one condition: he has to win, and break, Harry Potter's heart to get it. That's no problem. Draco's got this situation completely under control. Completely. At least until he doesn't. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take a Chance by Ophelia_in_the_dark (dipped_in_ink) Rated:  Explicit Words:  38658 Tags: Romance, Blind Date, Bets & Wagers, Gay Sex, Anal Sex Summary:  When his boyfriend Terry dumps him in a muggle club, Harry's ready to give up dating altogether until he overhears Terry making a bet with Draco Malfoy to get Harry into bed in under a month. Now the sparks are about to fly? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 That's Not a Secret I'll Never Tell by glittering_git Rated:  Explicit Words:  14832 Tags: Muggle London, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Fluff, Hogwarts Reunion, Advent Calendar, POV Alternating, 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2018, Muggle Technology, Sexting, Ice Skating, Bets & Wagers, Slice of Life, Secret Relationship, Misunderstandings, Marriage Proposal, Jealousy, Blow Jobs, Begging, Teasing, Anal Sex, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Inappropriate Holiday Cards, Supportive Cast of Characters Summary:  Harry and Draco have been secretly dating for a while and have finally decided to tell their friends. They’ve chosen the perfect setting: their ten-year Hogwarts reunion. It turns out that it’s not such a surprise after all. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 It's Joggers Season (or so the Muggles say) by carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  10160 Tags: Romance, Joggers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Pining, Falling In Love, Growing Up, Person of Color Harry Potter, Studying, working together, Banter, Patronus, Bets & Wagers, Sharing Clothes, Hung Harry Potter, First Time, Sexual Inexperience, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, HP: EWE, Wandless Magic, Fluff and Humor Summary:  Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Just Two Straight Guys Kissing by dementordementor Rated:  Explicit Words:  5966 Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Anal Sex, Snogging, Licking, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Bottoming from the Top, kind of(?, Power Bottom Draco Malfoy, Dry Humping, Coming In Pants, Frottage, Eventual Fluff, kind of their awakenings, Gay Chicken, Explicit Consent, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Attempt at Humor Summary:  Draco is dared to play Gay Chicken with Harry and they will do anything to win. Urban Dictionary’s Gay Chicken definition: A game played with straight people to see who has more balls, metaphorically. the game is played in several ways. The most simple, and weakest, is the kiss. One 'player' moves in for a sensual kiss until one of the 'players' backs off. I've seen this lead to tongues but someone will always pull away. Another way gay chicken is played is by groping the other 'players' genitals or breasts or anything you can get your hands on. The most common form of the game is gay pillow talk in which each interaction escalates until someone laughs or just can't respond. Lastly, 'players' can initiate dry humping sessions. Hardcore 'players' will use a combination of three tactics to win the game. Some have been known to even use all four tactics at once. This plan of attack is very tricky. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Date to the Samhain Ball (Not as easy as it sounds) by digthewriter Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4380 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, HP: EWE, Fluff, Angst, Bets & Wagers Summary:  Draco lost the game and gained a boyfriend. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Bet by EerieBarbarian Rated:  Mature Words:  1114 Tags: Sharing a Bed, Bets & Wagers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Sleeping Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Drabble Summary:  A lost bet causes Draco and Harry to share a bed. What happens when their accidental cuddling turns into more? ❤️ Read on AO3

#bets #wagers #prank wars #pranks #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

[kickassviv]

Pernille Harder: "I first dared to say that I would be the best in the world when I got away from Denmark"

Danish national team leader Pernille Harder was only a fan of the women's soccer World Cup. However, due to her high profile on and off the field, she left her mark on the tournament. Berlingske has met her for a conversation about love, homophobia, the fight for equality and the ambition to become the best in the world. And about two parties that got the national team leader out of the chair.

Credit to @magdaerikssons for the article and disclaimer, google translate was used to translate into English.

Is there a Danish "Liebes-Spionin", a love spy who helps the Swedish women's team against a victory?

That's how the German newspaper "Bild" speculated about the Danish national team leader and Wolfsburg player Pernille Harder in the heat during the just over the World Cup in women's football in France.

The newspaper had noted that the "Bundesliga's best player with a good knowledge of Germany" was constantly found among the Swedish players because of the girlfriend and defender Magdalena Eriksson. Eriksson plays daily for the London club Chelsea.

Two days before Berlingske meets Harder in the French city of Rennes, a picture of her and her boyfriend, both wearing Swedish national team jerseys, went viral on social media, not least in South America:

“It's a little crazy. I've gained 10,000 new followers on Instagram and I haven't even posted the picture myself. Many are from South America. I don't know what it is about homophobia down there, but it obviously means a lot of two female soccer players openly dare to show their love, ”says Harder, who also notes that she has lost no followers because of the picture.

It's 38 degrees hot, and the blue-and-yellow fans are trying to hide in the shade of bars and cafes before heading out to the stadium where the double world champion Germany, with some of Harder's teammates, waits.

Commander's Tour de France as the roe Instead of just being upset that it missed out on Denmark's participation, Harder has been taken to the World Cup as a Swedish roigan. The qualification smoked on the floor, among other things, as Denmark, due to a conflict between the national team and DBU, could not place teams against Sweden in the fall of 2017 and therefore lost 3-0 at the desk.

Now, instead, she is undertaking her own personal Tour de France in cities such as Nice, Paris, Rennes and Lyon. To support her girlfriend, who otherwise beat Denmark in the World Cup qualification, and to become smarter in her sport:

“It gives me another perspective to be here as a fan. I sense what the football gives off the field to all the fans. When you play a final round, you don't think so much about it off the field. But now I realize how big it all has become with fan march, etc., and that makes me want to put even more heart into it on the track in the future, "says the 26-year-old star, while the Swedish fans agree a new kind of song.

Harder and Eriksson have been together for five years. The Dane has not been exposed to homophobia or hate emails herself, but decided in the spring of 2019 to go actively into the debate on homophobia. This happened after FCK star Viktor Fischer was met by homophobic calls.

In a broadcast on TV 2, Harder openly talked about how she had previously fallen in love with a guy, but fell for Magdalena when they both played in Linköping:

'I didn't really think much about it. It just came very naturally. You have to be with the one you love. I have always felt that if there is something I want, then I do it and do not go into what other people think. And then I also have a good family that totally doesn't care who I love, just like it is pretty normal in the women's soccer world, "says the Wolfsburg player.

According to Harder, in the men's football »a front figure is missing. There are certainly gay and bisexual men in men's soccer too, but they obviously dare not stand out because the tone is different in the dressing room and among the fans. That is a sorry trend. You have to be proud of the one you love '.

More edge in women's football Courage to step up in the homophobia debate, Pernille Harder shares with female U.S. national team leader Megan Rapinoe, who up to the World Cup declared that her team would not accept an invitation from President Donald Trump if they returned home with the World Cup trophy. In addition, Trump was too homophobic and condescending to women:

"There are several in women's football who dare to have an opinion, although that may not be the opinion that other people think one should have. And so it gives something more edge. After all, not one of the really big men's team players actually does. Maybe just with the exception of Zlatan, ”Harder points out. Swedish Zlatan Ibrahimović has, among other things, commented on the Swedish immigration debate.

A party in Basel In addition to the fight against homophobia, Harder's main theme is gender equality. And here we are approaching the canceled match against Sweden and the football conflict with DBU.

Instead of looking back at the conflict, Harder first takes a mental detour to Switzerland. In 2018, the FC Basel football club held an anniversary party that got Harder out of the chair.

Before the party, the club had decided that the gentlemen should attend a gala party with a three-course menu, while their female counterparts were asked to sell the ticket and were literally eaten off with a sandwich:

“It's incredible that it can still occur today. But that's why it's so important that we have enough self-respect to say. And that women know what value we have. If we don't, they just do it again. And that is exactly why we had to take that fight with DBU, 'says Harder.

Similarly, Harder and teammates from Wolfsburg said when the club in 2017 asked the women's team to postpone their championship party until it became clear if the club's men's team avoided relegation.

When the women's team won "The Double" again the following year, no-one was thinking of issuing a ban - even if the men again fought relegation.

The conflict between the national team and the DBU was primarily about the remuneration of the women's team players. A sub-agreement between DBU and the Players' Association was landed in October 2017. But negotiations are soon on a long-term agreement, so that the national team is in control if Denmark should be able to arrange the European Championships in 2025 at home.

And here too the national team leader is ready to make demands. However, she fully agrees that in the future there will also be a difference between women's and men's salaries and bonus schemes, simply because Denmark does not have a women's league that can afford to pay the domestic players sufficiently in salary.

This is why DBU has to step in with scholarships, and then "there is something else you can't get," Harder points out.

The decisive point, however, is not the money, but that the national teams - regardless of gender - must have the same conditions for all the matches:

“Now just take the planes. Now we have to go to Georgia soon and play the European Championship qualifier. It is such a match that we risk playing a draw and thus lose important points to qualify for the European Championships in England. So it's mega important. But we are definitely traveling over there with two stops where we have to get up at 05:00 in the morning. DBU should, therefore, charter an aircraft. After all, they do this to the gentlemen, and so does the German and Swedish Football Federation for their wives, ”Harder points out.

Of other differences, the leader mentions that, unlike the gentlemen, the women travel without a cook and only occasionally have a volunteer analyst who can help understand and illustrate the tactics of the opponents. According to Harder, it is also not OK that the national team has only 18, and not 23, players with:

"It's a problem when we have to play 11 against 11. Then the physical therapist has to get into the field. There, I think we can demand equality and that it must be completely the same regardless of gender. And it's not, ”Harder points out.

The conflict was not the main problem Although the conflict is still filling, it is definitely not the whole story of why Denmark is not on the field in France:

“We simply weren't ready physically after the summer holidays in 2018, when we were going to play against Croatia and Sweden. Before the two matches went well. But we have learned from that and have now got a new physical trainer in Peter Krustrup. "

Harder is also confident that Peter Møller's new director of football, Peter Møller, will address the women's case to the DBU board.

She is aiming for Denmark to qualify for the European Championships in England in 2021, just as she hopes that Denmark can secure the European Championships in 2025:

"It will be crazy for Danish football, but we can learn something from them down here about how to set up fan zones and use modern, hard-hitting discos rather than always horn music for the matches," the national team leader says.

Although the level in France is high, Harder is not intimidated on behalf of Danish women's soccer: “We have a good team, and now we work with physics. This is where we need to put in. We are already fully involved in the technical, football and tactical aspects. "

According to the leader, a number of new talented players are also emerging, such as Emma Snerle from Fortuna Hjørring.

Harder welcomes the high viewership of the World Cup, which has seriously given women's football its popular breakthrough. In England, the fight against the United States was the most-watched TV show of 2019:

"I also don't understand if people can't see the exciting thing in eg. the battle between France and the United States. There are 40,000 at the stadium, high pace, chances, and fighter will. Now I have also seen men's football at the stadium several times, so it is not because I think 'hold it up, where does it go 100 times stronger', 'notes Harder.

Football camp in Ikast As we speak, several fans pass by in national team jerseys with women's names on their backs and no longer just men's stars such as Mbappé, Messi and Müller.

As a child, Harder had only one possible role model, Brazilian Marta, but it was now United gentlemen David Beckham and Ryan Giggs who hung in the children's room. Back in the nineties and nineties, there was also no opportunity to attend a girls' soccer camp.

That's the main explanation that, a few years ago, Harder and her sister and cousin decided to start a girls soccer camp:

“I want to pass on some of what I have learned both on and off the field. I even train the girls some of the time and give presentations. And this year I also had my mental trainer who gave parents some tips on how to be good parents. "

The world's best is the goal In 2018, Pernille Harder was named the second best Danish footballer ever to be Europe's best. The first to achieve this honor was Allan Simonsen in 1977. But despite the lack of World Cup, the goal remains to be the world's best footballer.

“I know it might not be very Danish with the Janet Act and all that. And I also dared to say it out loud first when I moved away from Denmark. But why is it so dangerous to say that I want to be the best in the world? One must dare to put words into one's dreams. And the worst thing that can happen is only that I don't reach it, but then I have pushed myself to do my utmost. "

The dream, which she first put into words when she came to Sweden, was born in Ikast. “Recently, I found a style that I wrote when I was ten years old. And there I wrote that I would be the world's best in ten years, 'says Harder.

The road over there is provisionally over Wolfsburg, where this year the club has invested in five to six new players to be able to conquer the Champions League trophy, which lost after another defeat to Lyon.

But Harder, whose contract expires in 2021, is open to trying her hand at a new country and league - also to learn a new language.

"German is doing very well," laughs Harder and continues:

"Although I do not always have a say in whether the pronoun should come in the middle or at the end."

During the World Cup, there have been rumors that Real Madrid are looking for the striker. As one of the last major clubs in Spain, the "king's club" now also enters women's soccer. Before the World Cup, the women's match between Barcelona and Atlético Madrid set a spectator record in Spain with over 60,000 on the limbs.

“We must say that both Denmark and Germany are behind. In England and Spain, they are targeting a professional league, where big men's clubs also invest in women's soccer. It would be optimal if we also did it at home. But it is clear that e.g. FC Midtjylland does not have as much money as Manchester United, so it will cost in the beginning, 'says Harder, pointing to FC North Zealand as a men's club, which is now also focusing on women's football.

On the team with Magdalena? A new club change could also open for the girlfriend couple Harder and Eriksson to put an end to the long-distance relationship, which is, however, facilitated by a direct flight connection from Hanover to London:

“Right now we are each running our own race. But we are about to be where we can again play on the same team. Defenders are slowing down a bit, but Magdalena has become one of the key players on Chelsea's team entering the Champions League semi-final, "Harder points out.

If the pair are on the same club team, there will also be no danger of the relationship being put to the test in a Champions League match between Chelsea and Wolfsburg:

“None of us can stand to lose. I want to win everything. Also in ludo against children. And so will Magda. If she loses cards to me, she won't talk to me for the rest of the day, 'says Harder, laughing.

But in France, the couple both get something to laugh at. Magda and the other Swedish players secure a bronze medal at the World Cup. Yet another image of the couple kissing each other goes around the world. Although Pernille Harder has not been on the field, much has been noticed by the Dane during the World Cup.

#pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #denmark wnt #hardersson

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Holiday Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 East of Eden by  WriteSprite Rated:  Explicit Words:  41,122 Tags:  Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Parseltongue, Dirty Talk, Rimming, Biting, Drinking Games Summary:  When Harry receives a dodgy brochure for an island vacation, he isn't sure he should attend. After a bit of a push, he decides to go for it and winds up spending the week in paradise. At least it would be, if it weren't for that pesky blond git. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take My Hand by daisymondays Rated:  Explicit Words:  12814 Tags: Summer, Summer Romance, Pining, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Drinking Games, Harry Potter Has Dimples, Draco Malfoy Can't Cope, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Auror Partners, Draco Has Feels To Spare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Meddling Friends, Touching, Soooo Much Touching, HP: EWE Summary:  Draco has long resigned himself to pining after Harry... that is until an invite on the annual Ministry holiday gives him a chance to change everything. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 December Never Felt So Wrong by MaesterChill Rated:  Explicit Words:  50001 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Angst, Mystery, time skip, 00's Music Sung Badly, Fluff, Amnesia, A niffler, 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2018, curse magic, Knitting, Sex, Cuddles, Blow Jobs, First Time Sex, wanking, Advent Fic, Christmas, Magical Artifacts, Falling In Love, Magical Theory, drarry dads, Rimming, Memory Loss, A tiny bell, Sharing a Bed, Dad Jokes, Cursed objects Summary:  'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary:  St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Too Cold Outside (For Angels to Fly) by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  62688 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-Hogwarts, Creature Fic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela (Harry Potter), Auror Partners, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Aurors, Case Fic, Murder Mystery, Mild Gore, Advent Calendar, Christmas, Drinking, Scotland, United Kingdom, Muggle London, POV Alternating, Coffee Shops, Past Character Death, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Crime Fighting, Duelling, Burns, Blood and Injury, Bars and Pubs, Getting Together, Romance, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Anal Sex, Riding, Shower Sex, Hand Jobs, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2019, Switching, Wings, Wing Kink, Veela Mates, Mating Bond, Anal Fingering, Bonding, Dirty Talk Summary:  The Auror Department and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures are working to create a new division partnering human wizards and Magical Beings in order to more effectively police crime involving any and all classifications of Magical Creature. Auror Harry Potter jumps at the chance to join the pilot programme, but he starts to regret his rashness when he discovers who he's to be partnered with: Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 If the Fates Allow by Saras_Girl Rated:  Mature Words:  80957 Tags: N/A Summary:  What's that crackling in the walls? Harry has no clue at all. He'll eat some cake and drink some wine Because he is completely FINE. --A story about life's disregard for our plans. [2017 advent story] ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A New Peace by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  5566 Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex Summary:  Of all the people Draco expected to walk into his cafe in Muggle London, Harry Potter was not one of them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 flashback, warm nights by warmfoothills Rated:  Mature Words:  13068 Tags: Deathly Hallows AU, or more specifically, the godric’s hollow christmas shitshow of 1997, but with ron and draco!, and no snake-animated corpses!, instead:, Grand theft auto, a lot of blood, teenage fugitives, a time loop, Horcrux Hunting, one psychopathic quinquagenarian, Bodily Injuries, the ~power of love, Breaking and Entering, hospital food, questionable headwear, kissing in the backseat, kissing in the freezer aisle, Kissing in the Snow Summary:  “What’s killing me is that I actually quite fucking like Christmas, festival-for-a-personally-irrelevant-religion-turned-commercialised-garbage-holiday though it may be, and now I’m stuck in the perpetual almost-there of it all with an idiot who gets himself cut up every time no matter how differently I try and do things!” “Killing you?” Potter asks. “I thought I was the one who’s about to get my torso sliced into?” ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl Rated:  Mature Words:  61080 Tags: N/A Summary:  Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 With A Little Help From Hermione by naarna Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  6983 Tags: N/A Summary:  Secret Santa at Hogwarts with every House participating in the name of unity... And Hermione suddenly finds herself in the position of a matchmaker. ❤️ Read on Fanfiction.net

📜 Faint Indirections  by ignatiustrout Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  29793 Tags: University, Wizarding World of the United States of America, Americans, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Librarian Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Parselmouth Harry Potter, College Student Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Anxious Harry Potter, Baby Gay Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Friendship, Family Dinners, Halloween parties, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Romance, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Book Fair Summary: Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The 12 Dates of Draco  by Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn) Rated:  Explicit Words:  16808 Tags: 12 Days of Christmas, Light Angst, Christmas Smut, Anal Sex Summary:  Holiday dialing, desperate attempts at reconciliation, and 12 blind dates with Draco Malfoy... oh my! OR The day Harry just can't seem to get past. But what is the universe trying to tell him? And when did Draco Malfoy get so bloody fit? He's got 12 days to figure it out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Christmas Is For Sex (and Love), So Give It To Me by GoldenTruth813 Rated:  Explicit Words:  53218 Tags: PWP, Established Relationship, Christmas, Bondage, misuse of frosting, making gingerbread houses, coming without touching, Blowjobs, Fingering, anal penetration, Rimming, misuse of fairy lights, Praise Kink, Nipple Clamps, erotic massages, Lingerie, Harry in Lingerie, Butt Plugs, Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Topping from the Bottom, Ice Play, misuse of snowballs, misuse of brandy custard, veritasium, Public Sex, misuse of christmas candles, Wax Play, floating blow jobs, bubble baths, Candy Canes, misuse of candy canes, sex with feelings, Clubbing, naughty letters, babysitting teddy, Edging, healing past trauma, really so much more than sex, but lots of sex too, spiked hot cocoa, Drunk confessions, Anal penetration with a foreign object, french!draco, Switching Summary:  Draco buys Harry an Advent House, intent on helping Harry create all new holiday memories, and have a lot of great sex in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 As it Should Be by leo_draconis Rated:  Mature Words:  5670 Tags: N/A Summary:  It's Christmas Eve, and Draco's world has just shattered around him. Will a Christmas miracle give him a second chance? ❤️ Read on LJ

📜 Dream by the Fire  by GallifreyisBurning Rated:  Mature Words:  11431 Tags: Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, No Angst, seriously no angst whatsoever, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Coffee Shop Owner Harry Potter, Writer Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Magical Tattoos, Memory Magic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Wizarding History (Harry Potter), Friends to Lovers Summary:  When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued. Where has he been? What is he working on? Why here? And why does he have to look so stupidly hot with all those tattoos? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The best Christmas he ever had by gnarf Rated:  Teen And Up Words:  1965 Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Post-War, Fred Weasley Lives, Christmas at the Burrow (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Drinking, Dancing, Family Feels Summary:  Christmas had never been less appealing to him than this year. That was until Arthur Weasley showed up at his door, dressed as Santa, inviting him to the Burrow. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The One Where Ginny Keeps a Secret, Sort of  by Theartfulldodger Rated:  Teen And Up Words:  4039 Tags:  Fluff, Christmas, Established Relationship, Non-Linear Narrative, Group Vacation Summary:  Harry is determined to have a good time with Ginny and Pansy for a trip to NYC over the winter holidays, even if Draco can't join them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Adventures in Truth and Texting by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  7981 Tags: Texting, Drunk Texting, Sexting, Veritaserum, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Auror Harry Potter, Drinking, Christmas, Advent Fic, Awkwardness, everyone has phones, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing – and Hermione is trying to introduce Muggle technology to the wizarding world. An advent fic featuring texting, identity struggles, and a Draco Malfoy who will literally not stop talking. ❤️ Read on AO3

#holiday #vacation #drarry #drarry rec #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist