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welldonekhushi · 1 year

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Words Unspoken

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Samantha "Scarlet" Wright (OC)

Note: Wishing you all a very happy Valentines Day! And on his occasion, here's a fic I wrote over our fave couple! I hope you like it! <3

Summary: Scarlet tries to gift Soap something precious on the special day of love, with some unspoken feelings. How would it go?

Warnings: A bit of angst? But fluff and comfort in the end!

If I had to add a song that fits this fic, it'll be Words Unspoken by Leroy Sanchez!

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"What are you getting for Valentines Day?" Roach asked the petite, woman, sitting beside him, as Scarlet blushed at the thought and rubbed her hair nervously.

"Well, to be honest, Gary.. I don't think it's possible. I mean, Valentines Day is celebrated when you're having a couple, right?"

Roach widened his eyes at Scarlet's response, and then he raised an eyebrow. "Then who's Soap to you?"

"He's my best friend! Please, get your mind together, Gary. Yeah, we do talk often but that doesn't mean we.. we have.. something between us?" Something made Scarlet flinch a little in her sentence and was not letting her speak confidently about it.

"I like how you're defending yourself so bad even if you admit you do have something for him." Roach was deadpanning for a while and then burst out in laughter, making fun of Scarlet. She rolls her eyes and knocks his arm with her elbow.

"But come on Scar, look at him and yourself. Everyone in the compound, who I know or not, they feel you act like you two know each other so well. They literally get so jealous of not having a woman like you with themselves, because of how perfectly you match with the Captain." Roach explained. "Heck, the way your personalities merge together and the two behave the same, it feels like.. you two were meant to be each other. Tell me, don't you think anything about your friend?"

Scarlet carefully listened to the Sergeant, trying to make her believe if she truly had feelings for him or not. For the fact, Roach wasn't wrong, at a point. Ever since her time in the SAS, with Soap's unexpected presence, everything changed. For her, and for him. Evaluating all the moments she spent with John — from the day they met when they were kids, to high school, to getting separated and finally reuniting in the SAS.

She realised she feels comfort when she is near Soap. She feels comfort when he hugs her by wrapping his strong arms around her back. She feels comfort when he laughs. She feels comfort when Soap protects her. She feels comfort.. when Soap really means so much to her. How does that not prove that they two have nothing in between?

"I.. do think about him. I just want him to be okay, I don't even want anything else from him." Scarlet looked at Roach, with her eyebrows furrowed.

"Then what's stopping you from reaching out to him? There must be a reason. Okay, let's assume, you're not actually in love. Fine. But what's the reason that's making you feel it's not possible, according to you? You can talk to me about it, Scarlet. I promise."

If Scarlet had to reveal that one thing that was preventing her from doing the action, it would be — being scared. Scared to believe if everything she thought about wasn't true. What if, it's just the friendship? Friendship means to protect their best friend, make them feel loved, never leave them behind and stay together in the hard times. What if Soap really means something to her? Or it's being one-sided?

What if Soap didn't have any hard feelings for Scarlet? And his heart already belonged to someone el—

A sudden wave of emotions flowed through Scarlet's body, and maybe more in her soul, at the slight thought of that. She didn't like that at all, and she didn't want to face it further. She lets out a sad sigh, as she casts down her head, trying to calm herself down while she responds.

"I just.. don't know if he's just being nice.. or he really means it." She turns to face the Sergeant, while he slowly listens. "We've just seen ourselves as.. friends. Since childhood. No wonder he might have the same fear as me, but we can't trust it. I can't trust it. I'm scared of breaking our friendship or making him change his thoughts on me if I did the wrong step."

"Wrong step? You're crazy or what, Scar?" Roach made a disgusted face. "It's NOT true. You're not destroying anything, at all. Neither your friendship, or making him have a different view on you. You're just expressing your feelings, and I know it. I'm your friend, Scarlet. You're like a sister to me. Heck, a brother knows her sister way better than anyone else." Roach puts a hand over Scarlet's shoulder in an assuring way. "Believe me, it will be okay. Just go, and let everything go according to plan."

After the motivation she receives from Roach, there was no turning back for her now. It was time where she would finally confess her feelings, to the one whom she held for so long. She stands up, takes a deep breath, and nods. "Yes.. I can do it."

Roach smiled, and stood up too. "I know you can. Wait, wait! You can't just go in his room like this, innit?"

Scarlet raised her eyebrow, since she had no idea what Roach wanted to do next. They went to a local flower shop to buy a bunch of roses, with chocolates, cause duh.. how do you celebrate Valentine's Day without these two? Also, Roach thought of an excellent idea for a more touchy look so he suggests Scarlet about it. She did blush at the thought of that, but it felt nice and decided to let it work accordingly.

Walking in the halls, the corridors of the dorms to the offices, Scarlet nervously makes her way to Soap's place, with the gift in her hand. She was revising all the lines during her journey, mustering up all the courage and confidence to speak up her feelings and finally confess them. She approached at the door, as she sighs and almost tries to knock on his door, but the insecurities hit her again. Because everything changes by just a knock on the door, and either she leaves out with hope.. or getting shattered.

Forgetting everything, she forcefully opens the door, and sees Soap already standing on his desk, trying to wrap something but immediately hides it away from her. She raised an eyebrow but gave a salute to him anyway. "Captain."

"Sergeant." Soap responds, plastering a soft smile on his face while looking at his beloved friend. He was more conscious of hiding the thing behind him, since it wasn't ready to be shown yet to her. Scarlet approached Soap, the height difference clashing. She might have looked shorter than him, but it never had been a barrier between their relationship. A lot of things Scarlet wanted to say, and so does Soap, but the nervousness in the two was at its peak.

Fear of being rejected. Fear of being forbidden and broken forever. It was the only chance they could have, to finally confess what they think about each other. Taking a deep breath, Scarlet looked at Soap, her eyebrows furrowed and the grip of the gift in her hand got tighter.

"You know you can call me by my regular name when we're alone, do you lass?" He chuckled.

"I know, Johnny but.. sometimes, we have to maintain a decorum. I believe in discipline somehow." She replied. "You're still my Captain no matter what.

"What if you didn't have to, anymore?" He bent himself slightly to face the Sergeant more clearly, that somehow made her blush a bit. The closeness between the two was also not helping her. Gulping, she tried to maintain her posture and body language, clearing her throat.

"I didn't get you, Captain." In light of confusion, Soap chuckled and pulled away from the Sergeant. "It seems we do need more time to get things right, because I think.. one of us isn't sure who's going to make the first move." He rubbed his head nervously, adjusting a bit to hide the thing behind him.

Scarlet heard a crumple of paper behind Soap's desk, that made her curious to know what it was. "What were you doing?"

Soap looked behind, and then realised what he was doing. "Oh, it's nothing lass. I was just.. uh, packing something. Wait, do you have a gift too?"

He glanced at the gift in your hand, and you hid it behind. "U-uh, no? I mean, it's.. it's uhm?"

"It clearly looks like a gift, Scarly." He rolled his eyes. "Is it for.. me?" He points at himself and grins.

"Uh, well.. it belongs.. to someone who I think about the most." She smiles. "Now.. tell me, what are YOU packing for?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. Soap sighed and thought to reveal it.

"Well uhm, it's.. it's a gift too for, someone special. The one who owns my heart." He smiled and slightly shook his head in embarrassment, to hide his blush. "Who do you think it could be for?"

".. oh." Scarlet could only let out one word from her mouth, the grip of her gift slightly loosening. "Well.. I don't know, do you know them? For how long?"

"A long time." He leans on the desk, folding his arms. "Even staying away from her, we never broke contact. She worried about me, cared for me.. she wanted me to come back home soon too, to start a new life." Soap started to think about the woman in her dreams, but at the same time, Scarlet's smile disappeared and her emotions were going on a turmoil when Soap was describing how the love of his life looked like.

"She's so special, like.. she always lights up my life whenever I see her. I miss her. I need her. She misses me too." He sighed sadly. "I can't wait to go back and see her. I'm just about to deliver this gift to her."

Scarlet could feel her grip losing onto her confidence sooner when Soap talked about where his heart belonged, much to Scarlet's dismay. Her fear came true, she dropped her head, with her eyebrows furrowed with the gift in her hands that no longer showed meaning to her or him. Whatever Roach said didn't become real, even if he was hopeful about it. It was proven that these years of friendship had always remained a friendship, not progress to something new. Because Soap had moved on, made a new life with another woman.

That brief separation in their childhood maybe could have been a sign that now it was time to be different from each other, and follow their goals. Even after everything.. the fate was sealed. Scarlet had no problem being now just a colleague for Soap, but the painful spear that stabs her heart in the revelation of Soap's feelings would always haunt her. Always make her undeserving for any love.

She felt.. she was too late for everything now. She got her answer to everything. She might have to spend Valentines Day all by herself now.

"What about you? What is your gift about?" Soap looked at her, smiling. Scarlet looked back at him, hopeless but tried to maintain her positive nature. "Oh, well.. it's.. just a gift. Nothing else. I thought I'd give it to the one who I felt I had feelings for."

Soap raised an eyebrow. "And.. who is it?"

Scarlet's face became a sign of worry, regret and upsetness, trying not to get into more pain if she continued into this. "I.. don't know. But I know it belongs to him." She tried to contain her emotions in front of him, and pursed her lips. Soap noticed something was wrong with her, and it made him concerned. Walking towards her, and lifting her head with her chin, he made her face him.

"Are you alright, lass?"

"I think I will be." She replies, smiling half-heartedly. Soap's eyes furrowed, thinking something was wrong.

"I-I think I have to go, I'm getting late, I need to deliver this gift. Thank you for everything, Captain. See you—!" Before Scarlet could leave, Soap grabbed her hand, and didn't let her go. It left her shocked, as her eyes widened.

"You didn't answer my question, lass." Soap said, softly. Scarlet's emotions spurring out the moment Soap prevents her from leaving. She didn't turn back, but she just shook her head in disappointment.

"Whom does this gift belong to? I want to know who you love." Soap pleaded with her to answer. Scarlet finally broke down, and looked at Soap with her eyes already stinging, ready to release tears. "It's nothing. It belongs to the one who I care for the most."

"You don't care for me then?" He said, making Scarlet shocked.

"What? No!"

"Did you even realise whom I could have been referring to this whole time?" Soap asked, but Scarlet wasn't ready to admit if it was actually the one she thought, or it's not what it looks like. "Don't give up on me, would ya?"

"How would I know about who you truly love, Soap? It isn't even possible.."

"But I thought after years of everything we've gone through.. you'd finally realise it.." He said, sadly. "I thought it would have already created an idea in you that we do have something in between."

".. something between us? What do you mean?" She raised an eyebrow.

".. Scarlet, this is where I realised you're the biggest muppet ever that passed selection."

"What, hEY!" She raised her voice and folded her arms. "What was that supposed to mean?!"

"You thought I was talking about someone else?" He raised an eyebrow.

".. of course. I thought, after all this time, you could have been made for someone else, too." She sighed and rubbed her arms, casting her head down.

"And this is why you weren't happy about it?"

Scarlet still kept her head shook, not able to face him. She pursed her lips and tried to control herself, and tried to calm down, sighing. "Look Soap.. I'm.. happy for you. I always have been. I guess, it wasn't fair for me to barge in your personal life because, I know.. we had a lot in common but, I realised.. you have a life too, right? You can't just.. stay bound to me forever, because we're just.. friends. Nothing else. I care for you, I do want you to have the best. Let it be.. a good life, a good relationship with a family. I just want you to be happy."

Soap blinked his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed at what you were saying. He understood everything that you were saying, but what was creating a barrier in between your feelings.. was the misunderstanding. The misunderstanding that the two DID have something for each other, but couldn't express it properly. The fear, the hopelessness, the regret.. of being too late was eating them up and something had to be done.

Soap looked at her, her body already smaller than him, but never felt so vulnerable. His eyes went to the gift, and slowly his hands went to the wrapped paper, and took it from her hand. She looked above to see Soap unwrapping it. It reveals an album that he opens, the moments they had when they were kids. All happy, without worries, fear, just.. pure happiness. Scarlet wanted to devote their long friendship through this book, and confess her whole feelings for him, by this gift wrapped with love.

It made Soap chuckle heartedly, grinning at Scarlet for this sweet gift. Every page was filled with nostalgia, and love. He closed the book, and felt more glad.. he extended his arms and hugged Scarlet lovingly. He rubbed her back, and never wanted to let her go. At all. He was scared to lose her, forget her..

"Thank you. Thank you, and God for letting this be just a misunderstanding.." Soap suddenly started to shed a few tears from his eyes, much to Scarlet's surprise. What was going on?

"Everyday, I hoped that I wasn't the undeserving one. If I was, I couldn't forgive myself. My life would have been truly meaningless, like how it was before." He sniffed, and kept hugging Scarlet. "I didn't want to celebrate Valentines Day alone too, ya know?" He chuckled, and cupped her cheeks.

"Huh..?" She was still in constant shock. Did.. Soap didn't love anyone else but always..

He brought the gift that he was wrapping, and asked Scarlet to open it. It was a box, and when she opened the lid, her eyes widened and the lid in her hand dropped. She slowly dragged the thing in her hand out of the gift, revealing it to be a blanket.. a piece of fabric, that held so much significance. So much that made Scarlet fill with so many memories..

"Whoo, it's pretty darn cold out there!" A young Soap was shivering inside his room, with a young Scarlet also shivering in the same manner.

"Wrap a blanket around you, laddie. You need it." She replied, trying to find a warm blanket around the room.

"Jokes on you, we only have one. And I think one of us would have to sleep in the open." John rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Johnny! What's the point of a sleepover if you don't have blankets? Bollocks, mate."

"Well, it's not my fault you didn't bring your own."

"My own? I was expecting that you'd keep some with you as spare. I'm not wrong either."

"I'm the only child in this house, Miss. One blanket exists with each member of this family. Stop being dramatic."

Scarlet rolled her eyes and just stole the blanket from him. "Hey that's mine, daft!"

"Sorry, now it's mine." She smiles and wraps it around her body, keeping her warm and letting John shiver in the cold. "Well, I won't mind if I give it to you, instead. You can't stay like thi—"

"Don't worry, I'd be good. You shouldn't catch a cold."

She was cosy in her blanket, but at the same time she couldn't see him like this. Seeing the blanket around her, she got up with a plan. "Uhm, Johnny?"

"What?" The young boy spoke in his Scottish accent, his words a little shuddering because of the cold.

"Let's do something new. We should name it as.. glue."

".. what kind of name is that? You mean pasting shit or stuff?"

"No you idiot." She rolled her eyes. "It only needs a blanket, but this time, we'd be in it together. So that we won't feel cold anymore." Scarlet opened the blanket a little to give him access to enter. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

John without hesitating, stepped into the blanket and wrapped himself around with it, sharing warmth with each other. It did feel better, especially in the blanket they were cuddled in, being comfortable and all cosy. John felt good. Warm. Safe, like nobody ever gave. Looking at Scarlet, he was really surprised that an idea could bring them closer like this. The two looked at each other, smiling and then stayed in the same spot, with the blanket "gluing" you two together.

And this is where.. it all connects. The same blanket Scarlet gave to Soap when they cuddled inside of it. Soap never forgot what they used to do when they were all young and free. She never believed he'd keep it with himself this long, much to Scarlet's regret of thinking he might not care for her. She pressed the blanket on her face, breathing in the fabric, the same scent she smelt back then, which made Scarlet cry too, soaking her tears in it. She couldn't believe it at all.

It proved that the two actually cared for each other. They had something in between. And it was time to let it all out.

"How was the surprise, shortie?" He grinned, caressing her hair gently.

Scarlet looks at Soap with teary eyes, and then hugs Soap tightly too. "I'm so damn sorry, John. I thought you were no longer mine. I was so scared.." She sniffed.

"I was scared for a second too, lass." He replied, hugging her back and comforting her. "It's just that we took a while to understand everything."

"We sure did. But now, I'm so glad.. that my feelings weren't just feelings.." She let the tears stream down her cheeks, crying in relief.

Soap gently shed tears too, glad that Scarlet wasn't taken too. "Me too, lass. But now.. this is where it all begins, love."

Soap and Scarlet looked at each other, ever so lovingly, intertwining their fingers with each other and shared a giggle and laugh, something which they couldn't live without. Soap pulled Scarlet's chin towards him to kiss her forehead, as she blushed. He was so beautiful in her eyes, but she was more in his eyes.

After the two calmed down, they were now talking about the gifts they received, while Roach in the meantime saw the two, being ever so happy in their space, makes him more relieved. It made him glad that Scarlet's doubt no longer existed once she opened up her feelings to him.

"I told you, Scarly. It will be okay." Roach said to himself, curling his lips into a soft smile, looking at the two being themselves, and being happier than ever.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod oc #call of duty oc #samantha scarlet wright #soap x oc #soap x scarlet #valentines day fic #task force 141 #gary roach sanderson #modern warfare

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inflammatoryfandomblog · 1 year

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okay here are my thoughts on the great ace attorney games: they’re good.

i like the fact that they’re distinct from the trilogy. on top of being a lazy pc-player snob, the main reason i have not yet touched apollo, athena, and kurain people is because it feels too much like the trilogy for me. i am someone who thought that trials and tribulations and justice for all were superfluous when i first finished the phoenix wright trilogy. so i didn’t necessarily feel like revisiting the same cast.

the tgaa characters were pretty fun. i loved susato as an assistant (and while naruhodo is basically milk, he’s the zanier one of the two) and she felt very distinct from maya; van zieks was a dick but he was a dick who cared about justice unlike worthy and franny at their outsets (the most realistic thing about this game is how his racism actively works against justice in the soseki cases even when he cares about justice.) i love sholmes (”i said i knew a smattering of japanese!”) and the game is a real love letter to sir arthur conan doyle’s stories.

especially with the reveal that his real partner was mikotoba (which makes susato’s admiration for him like 10x more hilarious), it does feel like the main idea for this game was “man what if japanese people like us got to hang out sherlock holmes, that’s awesome.” and you know what. it certainly feels awesome to play through.

and it’s very nice to tie in such a classic series with ace attorney, precisely because the games are so detached from reality anyways. take for example ace attorney’s view of justice and the purpose of courtrooms as a sort of socratic exercise to find the truth. the main motivation behind this is obviously to intensify the feelings of catching people’s conflicting stories with evidence, but it also puts this glossy, idealized sheen over everything in the series.

you’re not actually in the historic British or the Japanese Empires; this is the epcot version of all these things, and it’s fun to be in epcot. ace attorney is a funny lawyer game and even at its worst it never has any pretentions about tacking Big Issues.

(if you’re wondering how i feel about the “oh xyz character is a COLONIZER!!!!” discourse surrounding this game, that’s it in a nutshell lmao.)

weirdly i disliked the first two cases of the first game and the last two cases of the last game. i found the twist with kazuma and the TRUE story of the professor to be... kind of underwhelming, honestly. kazuma’s arc of Becoming a Prosecutor has no real emotional weight to it; he spends like two cases defending a dead person from the prosecution stand and stays a prosecutor because.... uh.... there was darkness inside him? it’s just not really compelling drama compared to von karma raising edgeworth to be the thing his father would have hated, for instance.

similarly the true story of what happened and how it panned out felt oddly by-the-numbers, and stronghart was basically shitty damon gant. i don’t remember a single thing about stronghart besides the one moment he takes like 6 literal hours of your day to talk to you about forensics. and he’s so much more powerful than damon gant; if you remember, gant was just the chief of police, stronghart was literally so powerful he could pull diplomatic strings, and while gant’s actions and mistakes made sense, stronghart’s decisions feel extremely weird when you think about it for two seconds.

but even in those cases, which i found wanting, i really appreciated how, for instance, the last case incorporated the investigation mechanics in a new way, how the second case of the first game tried something with it being only investigations, etc etc. in general the structure of the cases was much harder to predict and it made each one structurally very different and memorable.

one other thing i liked is that the characters feel three-dimensional they way they were in the original ace attorney one. one gripe i had with the trilogy is that slowly characters just degraded/got flanderized over time. it doesn’t happen here; almost every character ends this duology with more aspects to them than what they started with. aside from sholmes, who i really liked because he was a funny idiot genius, my other favorite character is actually gregson. he doesn’t have a dramatic backstory or anything, but i feel like he was pretty multifaceted as it goes.

the jury system was a good addition and it was something that was much better in tgaa2 than in tgaa1, where the juries’ whole shtick was “oops!!!! i am deeply involved in this case!!!” as opposed to them being other perspectives in the courtroom. i really disliked the jurors in tgaa1, which wasn’t helped by the amounts of summation examinations we had to endure in that game. in tgaa2 they were much better; it’s a shame that we only had them for 2 cases there.

other than that; it’s a blast, i really liked it and it really made itself different than what came before. there are other nitpicks/small elements i could praise, but it’s like very late and i’m tired.

#ace attorney #tgaa1 #tgaa2 #me.txt #begone thought

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themosleyreview · 1 year

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The Mosley Review: Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Phase 4 of the MCU has been filled with a lot of uncertainty in direction. The common theme that has been ever present since the series WandaVision, was how we as human beings deal with loss. It has never been more clearer than the work that has been done to honor not only a hero, but a good man. 2 years ago we lost a shining star that not only inspired others, but also devoted himself to putting out the message of "The suit means nothing if the person wearing it doesn't do good with the power of responsibility it brings." This film pays tribute to the great Chadwick Boseman and lays to rest T'Challa in such a beauitful and compassionate way. It was one of the most respectful and emotional funerals to ever grace the silver screen. What transpires after is the rest of the stages of grieving and too say it was powerful is an understatement. The story continues for the titular character's legacy and although it may not have been perfect, it was a great continuation and exploration of the world underneath our soil. The many times this film addresses the themes of colonization, the constant attempts by ours and foreign governments to depower minorities and black pride is all the more palpable. I loved every bit of it and I liked that the film had so many layers in between the otherwise predictable moments of the story. Even with all of that, there were some glaring flaws that kept the film from being something on the same scale of quality the predecessor was and it suffered heavily. The actors in this film did an amazing job carrying the legacy forward in such a difficult time.

Letitia Wright reprises her role and takes the lead as Shuri. I loved that there was so much conflict within her soul as her world was turned upside down from the passing of her brother. Her growth throughout the film was expertly performed and emotionally charged as she navigates her grief and the growing power vaccum. Letitia gives Shuri so much more depth this time around and she rises to the task of carrying the Black Panther legacy forward. Angela Bassett returns as Shuri's mother and Queen of Wakanda, Ramonda. Angela has been a powerhouse of an actress for 40 plus years and she once again proves why she is the best of the best. The weight of Ramonda's sons’ passing, governments and other outside entities attempting to take away from her nation was devastating to witness and you feel it in every scene. Her chemistry with Shuri was the strongest part of the film and I loved her commanding presence in the face of danger. Danai Gurira was awesome yet again as Okoye and I loved her strong presence and humor this time around. It was well placed humor and her relationship to Shuri and Ramonda was enhanced 10 fold. Winston Duke was yet again fun to watch as M'Baku. He still manages to steal a number of scenes, but this time around M'Baku is more wise and thoughtful than reactionary. It was an evolution of the character that I did not see coming. Lupita Nyong'o was great as Nakia and it was good to see her back, but she almost felt like an after thought once her bit was done when the story needed her. Martin Freeman returns as Everett K. Ross and his loyalty to Wakanda is another highlight of the story. Tenoch Huerta Mejía makes his presence known as the new antagonist Namor. I liked his charisma and backstory, but I felt he was not as intimidating as he could've been. He is basically the master the ocean and he should feel more dangerous, but I didn't get that from him. His chemistry with Shuri was good and I liked the design of the character. Dominique Thorne was not bad as Riri Williams. She was fun at times, but ultimately unnecessary to the plot of the film. She was very one note and really didn't have an arc. She suffers almost the same problem America Chavez in the recent Doctor Strange film. She is being pushed to open a new window in the MCU, but without any sense of depth or relevance to the story she was introduced in.

The score by returning composer Ludwig Goransson was amazing and creepy at times with the siren song of Namor's people. This film is visually stunning and I loved the new landscapes and underwater kingdom that is showcased. Like I said the film opens in such a powerful way, but then the film starts to dwindle in quality of storytelling and stretched out action sequences that are very questionable and messy in execution. There's a character that gets impaled by a spear and they pull themself free from it and there's no blood on the other piece of the spear. I get it that its PG-13, but lets be a little more realistic if you want these films to be so grounded and represent our world in some form. The morality tale within the film sometimes get muddied and forced with certain character choice that felt weak and unworthy. That's basically all I can say without spoiling anything else. Overall, this film was a wonderful tribute to a great man whose life ended way too soon. The rest of the film was messy at best, but still better than the worst of what the MCU has to offer. The 1 end credit scene does leave on a heartwarming note with a bright possibility for the future. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#black panther wakanda forever #letitia wright #angela bassett #danai gurira #winston duke #lupita nyong'o #martin freeman #tenoch huerta #chadwick boseman #marvel

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queergodot · 2 years

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For fun and profit, my queer headcanons for Ace Attorney characters:

Phoenix Wright: Aroace trans guy. He's trans because his name's Phoenix. He's ace because the game series is called Ace Attorney. He's aromantic because having a girlfriend try to kill him in college traumatized him, and after working on it in therapy, realized that he simply did not want or feel the need to date anyone anymore. Since this does not ultimately negatively affect his life, he decided that it wasn't worth the emotional pain of trying to work through it. Perhaps he'll feel different in the future, but for now, he's aromantic.

Maya Fey: Aromantic trans girl. She's aromantic because I like her. She's trans because it genuinely enhances her narrative by reinforcing the lack of agency she has in her life, and how she can learn to reclaim it anyway.

Miles Edgeworth: Autigender gay aroace. Haven't decided where he is on the aroace spectrum, but he's all that AND gay because he has the vibes. He's autigender because I like projecting.

Diego Armando: Bi ace genderqueer. Bi and genderqueer bc the vibes are off the charts, ace because I think it's interesting and also because I feel like I don't have enough alloro ace headcanons in general.

Mia Fey: Bi nonbinary girl. Girl with left gender. What gender? Diego's earrings, probably. Bi because of her implied relationship with Diego and her accidentally implied relationship with Lana. Might also screw around and put her on the aro spectrum because I believe we deserve some more alloaros up in here, and because I think it could potentially make her relationships to Diego and Lana very interesting.

Dick Gumshoe: Aromantic and bi but in the kind of way where he knows Nothing about the queer community and has done no self reflection on it. Maybe also a trans guy bc I think he deserves to be but that would require him having some knowledge of the queer community and decrease the humor.

Franziska von Karma: Pan! But she knows even less about the whole thing than Gumshoe. Doesn't start thinking about her sexuality until Miles calls her up with a formal coming out notice, after which she hangs up and does 48 hours straight research until she collapses. That research was mostly because nobody is allowed to know more about anything than she does but it did lead to her figuring out she's pan so there's that. Still debating her gender because I think she deserves to be trans but also I think the idea of 'cis ally with a whip' is HILARIOUS.

Pearl Fey: I don't really have any set headcanons for her but I do think it'd be kinda neat if she was genderfluid, because it'd be interesting to see how that'd interact with her powers, and provides some really unique opportunities for character study.

Dahlia Hawthorn: Aromantic trans girl. I think aromantic serial killers have rights if written by me or other aros and I think it'd be neat if she and Iris both independently figured out they were trans. I think there's some really strong narrative potential for Fey trans girls.

Iris: Straight trans girl. Already mentioned the trans girl part, but I'd like to add that I think it'd be super interesting for Maya and Iris to compare notes on their trans experiences and help each other along the way. Also I think Iris deserves to be transhet because she has truly immaculate taste in men.

#My posts #Infodumping #I AM tagging all these characters strap in #Phoenix wright #Maya fey #miles edgeworth #diego armando #Godot #Mia fey #Dick gumshoe #Franziska von karma #dahlia hawthorne #iris hawthorne #Pearl fey

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ohgodnotanotheronenooo · 10 months

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Simon is known for his use of psychological manipulation in court. Among his tricks are flattery, suggestive persuasion, and implicit death threats. The latter especially comes in various forms, but one of his favorites is his use of iaijutsu with his fingers, causing a "slicing" effect that has been seen to slice a feather in half, and was even able to cut off a piece of Wright's hair. Although these threats are usually idle, they are part of a larger persona that he has built for himself, based off of his reputation as a ruthless convict on death row. This allows him to instill fear and uneasiness in others, including his prior primary target, the phantom.

A highly disciplined and focused man, Simon was capable of maintaining his false persona for seven years. Although his hands were in shackles, he could break them at any time, despite being fitted with stronger shackles every time he did so. His false testimony concerning killing Metis withstood several attacks by Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth without skipping a beat. However, underneath this act is a kind, lawful man who, despite his somewhat intimidating appearance, deeply cares about Athena, to the point of maintaining his guilt to the bitter end in order to protect her and keep the phantom guessing. When forced to testify about what he had really seen, he exhibited a raging whirlpool of emotions with Athena as the source. After the final resolution of the UR-1 Incident, he maintained many of his behavioral habits but finally showed his caring self again, thanking Aura for her efforts and apologizing for the suffering that he had caused her. However, despite caring about and believing in her, Simon isn't adverse to teasing Athena about her skill level and general lack of experience compared to her co-workers and himself. He also doesn't indulge in her occasional moments where her lack of confidence gets the better of her, preferring to instead make a good-natured snarky comment or directly telling her to pull herself together. The feeling is mutual, as Athena also cares significantly for Simon's wellbeing but also throws snark at his direction and pokes fun at his expense at times. Overall his approach can be best described as strict and akin to tough love, letting Athena work her way in and step in only when it is absolutely necessary for him to do so.

Simon has a dark and somewhat mischievous sense of humor that he mixes in with his intimidation tactics. He often tells larger-than-life stories of prisoners he has met, such as a surgeon or a captured ninja, usually to make a point. He also gives unflattering nicknames to just about everyone other than his rival attorneys, whom he addresses using the Japanese honorific "-dono". However, he has little patience for what he perceives as ridiculous, largely dismissing the many supernatural claims in the trial of Damian Tenma, being very reluctant to allow Wright to cross-examine the orca Orla and even leaving the courtroom after one witness gave a testimony he deemed "rubbish". Simon was also annoyed by Nahyuta Sahdmadhi's self-professed moral standing centered on his religion. Interestingly, he despised being called a panda.

For all his dangerous persona, Simon follows a code of honor. He believes trials to be duels in which prosecutors and defense attorneys wield "blades" to prove their respective cases, frequently preparing his finger iaijutsu while pressing the defense to present their arguments, further adding to his samurai moniker. He doesn't engage in illicit tactics contrary to his public reputation as a dangerous criminal, and his intimidation tactics, although questionable, are largely not deemed as underhanded. Conversely, he's disgusted by tactics he deems as cowardly or "cheap". For example, Sahdmadhi attempted to use Athena's emotional perception against her, both by swaying the gallery's opinion to break her morale, and by hiding vital information under the pretense of "witness privacy". Another was Professor Means's verbal harassment meant to inject insecurity and panic. In both instances, he actively sided with the defense to prove the opposing party wrong.

Simon has an affinity for Japanese culture, much like his mentor, Metis. He enjoys soba noodles and rakugo, a very traditional form of Japanese storytelling. His extensive knowledge on such subjects lead him to question whether or not Prosecutor Sahdmadhi was capable of taking on a case which revolved around both subjects.

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borom1r · 11 months

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for the character opinion bingo: maya, franziska, pearl, miles and/or phoenix, + klavier or perhaps apollo? :3c whichever of these sounds more fun!!

bestie ilyyyy i will always do all of the characters shfjjsjf i love Talking and Thinking Thoughts

anyways Maya!!

I DONT HAVE A TON OF THOUGHTS ABT HER BUT I ADORE HER I NEED HER TO BE OK!!!!!! I MISS HER SO MUCH IN THE GAMES!!!!!!

Franziska

I almost put “If anything happens to them I will cry” but lbr she’d be fine. I’m squeezing Miles and Phoenix like stress balls but Franziska and Maya are getting put on my shelves like 2 action figures I’m making kiss

Pearl!!

I ALSO NEED HER TO BE OK. PLEASE. PLEASE CAPCOM IM BEGGING WHAT ARE MAYA AND FRANZISKA AND PEARLY DOING RN!?!?

Miles

Somehow, He Did Not Get A Bingo. hes Everything 2 me. his stressed cat noises and stunted emotions have captivated me

Nick!!!

ALSO no bingo!!! tf!!! he’s so fucking scrunkly I’m obsessed w him. you know Miles’ Phoenix-related stress migraines are so ingrained that he’ll get hit with one out of the blue in Germany and call Phoenix to discover he’s like, gotten hit by ANOTHER car or targeted by the mob AGAIN or fallen out a window or down a manhole or been assaulted by a witness or SOMETHING. and Phoenix just laughs it off. me 🤝🏻 Miles + shaking Nick by the shoulders and shouting @ him that this is NOT NORMAL BEHAVIOR and PERHAPS HE SHOULD TAKE BETTER CARE OF HIMSELF and PEOPLE DO IN FACT CARE ABOUT HIM also MAYBE AVOID MEN WITH FIRE EXTINGUISHERS

Klavier time

HMMM I do not have a Lot of strong emotions abt Klavier but fwiw I genuinely like him!! I would just like to see more of him I think. He n Apollo had such a good dynamic and that all got pushed wayyyyyyy to the backburner w dual destinies. like I’m sorry this is the game series w such iconic lines as “b-bottom?” and “unnecessary feelings” and “maybe YOU should be stripped naked and run out for making a mockery of this court” and “you’re a work of art, Phoenix Wright” BUT AA4 WAS TOO MUCH?????? THATS WHAT MADE U TRY TO NO-HOMO THE LAWYERS????????????? ok. ok I guess. apparently “I’ve never felt like this with a man” was CROSSING A LINE

also I need Miles and Klavier content it’s a widespread joke abt Miles and Nick adopting So Many Children but hello??? hello???? manipulated for potentially their entire lives by someone they thought they could trust, someone in their immediate family, as part of some twisted vengeance plot???? you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me Miles wouldn’t immediately extend a “my office is always open, you’re not alone” to Klavier the SECOND he heard what the fuck had happened w/ Kristoph!!

last but certainly not least, Apollo!

same as what I said w Klavier pretty much. AA4 was going in very interesting directions particularly w it’s characters and then that all just screeched to a halt. NOTHING is addressed. and like it IS the silly lawyer game to an extent but also how much of AA1-3 is about oh idk, your mentor getting murdered or her sister getting kidnapped and/or framed for murder BY HER OWN AUNT or your rival coming to terms with and trying to move past his extremely traumatic past while discovering what it means to be a prosecutor

and like I get they can’t just RETREAD that w Apollo and Klavier so u kinda get a speed run in AA4 with Apollo/Klavier and Kristoph but like. Ok DD, Phoenix gets his badge back, great, what are the ramifications of that wrt Klavier? how is he coping w the fact his brother used him to get a man disbarred? how Does Apollo help him? bc Klavier does spend so much of AA4 helping Apollo in this roundabout, toying way but still steering him towards The Truth. what does it mean for them when it’s turned back around on Apollo and suddenly he IS in Phoenix’s shoes trying to support his rival who IS absolutely mired in emotions and trauma. bc it’s very easy to gloss over what happened with Daryan but like, that was a thing too???? and Klavier is almost assuredly worse abt hiding his emotions than Miles is (Phoenix can read Miles like a book from almost the beginning, while Klavier is a stage performer. he knows how to look effortlessly relaxed when he’s really stressing the fuck out. AND THATS SUCH AN INTERESTING DICHOTOMY WRT APOLLO AND HIS BRACELET ESP CONSIDERING THE WAYS IT DOES MIRROR LAMIROIR/THALASSA AND ZAK????? more “reserved” w/ tension-detecting bracelet(s) vs larger-than-life Performer tm LIKE????? argh.)

I also just want to see Apollo and Miles interact genuinely I think they would be a force to be reckoned with together. Phoenix even THINKS abt getting up to some bullshit and they both fix him with The Stare. Phoenix and Trucy unstoppable force vs Miles and Apollo immovable object (jk jk Trucy has them Both wrapped around her little finger but Miles could absolutely 100% clue Apollo in to Phoenix’s “I am pulling a ridiculous stunt” cues)

(Miles like “and here is how I get him to Stop whatever he is about to do” + Apollo just like “that’s gr8 while you were still in Germany I just started spraying him with a water bottle.” “…like a cat.” “I wasn’t going to get any work done otherwise.”)

#TY CONNOR 💗💗!!!

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amazingmsme · 3 years

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Well if You Really Don’t Like Him...

AN: Here’s that fic about Godot flirting with Phoenix just to get at Edgeworth. This was seriously SO much fun to write! Ugh I love all these dorky ass lawyers, I need more content. So here you go, have some jealous Edgeworth, flustered Wright, & a very flirty Godot, all served to you on a silver platter!

Godot sat in the prosecutions office, reading over some old case transcripts. Detective Gumshoe was mulling about the room, browsing some of the books on the shelf. Godot snickered to himself, drawing Dick's attention.

"Something funny Prosecutor?" he asked with a curious smile. It was rare that he heard the other man laugh, so it warmed his heart to hear the sound.

"Yeah, actually. I can't help but notice... Is something going on between Edgeworth and Trite?" he asked, holding a page closer as he inspected the words. "I mean, it's hard to pick up a person's tone just from text, but I can't imagine another way to interpret this," he mused.

"Who? Oh you mean Wright! Yeah, we've all been wondering the same thing. He and Prosecutor Edgeworth have more chemistry than a chemical reaction!"

Godot smiled and shook his head. "Your analogy is weaker than decaf, but your point still stands."

"Hey!" Gumshoe shouted defensively, pouting at the other man's words.

"So I'm not crazy? Do they actually like each other? Because I can't possibly find any other meaning behind, "Court is no place for such fanciful stories. But if you drop by my office, I'd be more than willing to... indulge you?" Did Miles actually say this shit?" he asked, barely containing his laughter. One hand pressed against his forehead, fingers curling in the white locks as his shoulders shook with his chuckles.

"Heh, yeah I remember that. Poor Nick blushed redder than a ripe tomato!" he exclaimed, smiling at the memory.

"Hm, so Trite embarrasses easily? That's interesting," he hummed.

Detective Gumshoe shrugged. "Yeah, but he seems to get flustered a lot more when Edgeworth's involved," he explained. He found the book he'd been searching for, and bid him ado with a nod and quick wave. Diego was left pondering the new information, a sly smirk forming on his face.

The next day he strode into Edgeworth's office with even more swagger than usual. He sat on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. He slurped his coffee loudly to gain the other's attention. Miles sighed and glanced up at him.

"May I help you?"

"Who me? Nah, I just came in here to chat," he said, but the grin on his face told of an underlying motive.

"Please, you of all people are the last to want to chat while working. What's really going on?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Godot shrugged.

"A little birdie told me you might have feelings for Trite."

Miles stiffened, but other than that showed no outward emotions. "His name is Wright, and that's preposterous. I merely admire his skill in court and respect him as a peer. You would be wise to do the same."

"Really? 'Cause Dick sure thinks there's something more to it," Diego said. Edgeworth snorted out a puff of air in lieu of a laugh.

"And you believed him? Gumshoe is a well intentioned man, but he can let his imagination get the better of him."

"Transcripts don't lie bud. And I can smell the truth like a fresh pot of coffee." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you can," he said sarcastically. "Now if you're done reciting your little fairytales, I'd love to get back to work," he said, opening a thick binder and smacking Godot's leg with the front half as he opened it. He stood, getting the hint.

"You know, that reminds me of something you said to Trite in court," he spoke as he began to pace the room. He piqued his interest, so he continued. "Something about fanciful stories, and him stopping by your office to "indulge" you," he said using air quotes.

Miles abruptly stood, slamming his hand on the desk. "That's out of context!"

Godot shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "Trust me, the context doesn't make it sound any better. I'm surprised the two of you ever manage to reach a verdict, what with all the flirting going on."

"It's not flirting! It's merely playful bickering between childhood friends, nothing more," he reasoned.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his free hand in his pocket. Edgeworth practically growled at him, shooting a harsh glare his way.

"What exactly are getting at Godot?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you really don't like Trite?"

"For the last time, his name is Phoenix Wright. The fact that you don't refer to him as such is wildly immature and petty."

Godot smirked in triumph. "You sure are defensive of him."

"Of course I am; he's my friend and a talented attorney who, might I remind you, proved my innocence and convicted my father's true murderer. So I won't stand idly by while you blatantly disrespect him," he snapped. He turned his back to him, busying himself with straightening stacks of paperwork.

"You misinterpret my intentions," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, watching as he sipped his coffee.

"Then enlighten me."

"I admit I've been giving him a hard time. But most guys do that when they have a crush," he bluffed. Miles whipped around to face him.

"Ha! You're lying through your teeth, I know how much you despise him," he said, seeing right through the lie.

"Do you? Or was that just a front I put up to hide my feelings?" Edgeworth paused, considering the possibility.

"I don't know what your angle is, but you should stop while you're ahead. If you're only doing this to get at me, then I'm telling you right now it will all be in vein. But please, don't bring Phoenix into this if it's only a farce. He's had his heart broken before, and I won't allow you to needlessly toy with his emotions."

"Aw, how noble. Truly a knight in shining armor. But if you aren't in love with him, why should you care?"

Edgeworth recoiled, a pink tint coloring his cheeks at the L-word. "B-because he's my friend!"

Godot smiled softly, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid inside his cup. "I wondered what had happened to the hard ass prosecutor I knew. What made you go soft. But then I met Mr. Wright," he said, complying with his wishes and using his actual name.

"Don't act like I was someone to admire. I had lost myself and forgot what justice really meant. He merely opened my eyes," he explained.

"Now that's sounds like a love confession if I've ever heard one. You two go together like coffee and cream: he sweetened the dark bitterness you're known for and made you more palatable."

Edgeworth straightened to his full height, hair falling in front of his face. "Excuse me? I refuse to be insulted in my own office!"

"Well that was hardly an insult."

"You just called me bitter an insinuated that I was intolerable," he deadpanned.

"Heh, I did, didn't I? Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever. I request that you leave my office so that I may get back to work," he said, sitting back down at his desk.

Godot snorted in amusement. "That's the kindest way I've ever been told to get the hell out."

"Now."

"Alright, alright." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Miles sighed deeply.

"What now?"

"If you really don't like him, then you shouldn't mind if I flirt with him, right?" he asked smugly. Edgeworth's head snapped up with a gasp. He made to stand, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Diego shut the door before he could say anything.

Miles was left in his office, seething with a quiet rage. He couldn't go after him, that would only prove his point. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled out his phone and texted Franziska.

be mean to Godot

A few minutes later, his phone dinged with her reply.

lol ok. Why?

because we're mad at him >:(

what did that fool do now?

He thought about his answer carefully before sending it.

he's going to break Wright's heart

No, he couldn't send that.

he accused me of being in love with Wright

He shook his head, deleting the message and starting over.

nothing. Just let him know you're angry

haha got it. I'll whip his mask clean off his face! >:)

He chuckled softly at his sister's antics.

maybe not that mean

By the next day, Miles had mostly forgotten about his conversation with Godot. That was until he walked into the courthouse and was greeted by his stupid smug face.

"There you are Edgey boy!" he greeted enthusiastically, coffee sloshing in its mug.

"Don't call me that."

"Right, only Phoenix can call you that," he teased. Miles allowed a smirk to grace his features.

"Or Larry. He was the one who came up with the nickname after all." Godot hummed as he walked beside him. For a moment, the only sound was their shoes clacking in unison on the linoleum tiles. Then they spotted Phoenix and Maya come out of a debriefing room. Miles shot Godot a glare.

"Don't you dare," he threatened.

"Oh I dare," he said, trotting away and over to his target. Phoenix spotted him coming his way and quickly turned around, grabbing Maya's arm and speed walking away. He kept his head down and eyes focused on the ground. Maya let out a small "ope" sound as he dragged her along. She looked over her shoulder to see what made Nick turn so abruptly down the hall.

"Uuuh Nick? Godot's jogging right towards us," she whispered.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Well what did you do?" she asked before plastering on a wide smile to hide her confusion when the man approached suddenly. "Heeeey!" she waved, coming off as overly friendly in an attempt to hide the fact they were just talking about him.

"Hey Trite, whatcha been up to?" he asked, sidling up next to him. He slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed into his side. Phoenix made a small noise of shock, body going rigid.

"Umm, I was in a briefing," he said, casting a glance towards Maya. She merely shrugged.

"That's nice. So what's this case about?" he asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his voice. Edgeworth was grumbling to himself as he stormed after him. He needed to intervene somehow.

Phoenix was slightly taken aback by the question. "Oh! It's nothing too exciting, just an assault charge."

Godot clicked his tongue, tipping his mug in his direction. "That's a real shame, your best work is on murder cases."

Wright blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "I thought you said that I was a sloppy rookie who didn't deserve to be where I am today," he sassed, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

He winced slightly, hearing his own words said back to him. He needed to try to smooth this over to seem sincere.

"Oooooo," Maya said in typical childish fashion, like when another student is called to the principal's office. She shut herself up when Godot shot her a look. A small, guilty smile was still on her face however.

Edgeworth had been able to hear most of the conversation and was eager to hear the prosecutor dig himself out of that one.

"My opinion of you is starting to change amigo," he said smoothly, taking a sip. Phoenix's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm truly shocked to hear you admit that you've changed your mind," Miles spoke snidely. He purposefully stood closer to Phoenix, subtly separating the two. Godot noticed and smirked.

"What can I say? It's called growing as a person," he snarked back. Godot reached out and grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulder, then had the gall to shove him out of the way. He leaned into Wright's personal space, posture lax with one hand in his pocket. Phoenix had a nervous grin on his face, cheeks growing pink.

"Aaah I'm- glad for the personal development," he said, arching his back a bit to lean away. He gave a quick and confused glance towards Miles, as if to say "what the hell's going on?"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space? I'm sure he would prefer not to have to smell your coffee breath," he scolded, and this time it was Godot's turn to blush from embarrassment.

Maya snorted and giggled softly, and Phoenix had to plaster his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. His cheeks were puffed up with air as he struggled not to chuckle along. The sight was utterly adorable, and Miles felt pride in the fact that he made him laugh.

Godot's lip twitched in an angry sneer as he straightened his tie. "For your information, my breath is perfectly fine. I make sure to always have gum on me," he explained. Maya and Phoenix shared a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance at their exchange.

Godot looked over at Phoenix and flashed his most dazzling smile. "After all, you never know when you'll need fresh breath."

He let out a quiet gasp, eyes shifting down to his mouth for a split second. Godot pulled out his pack of gum, flicking it open with his thumb. "Care for a piece?"

"Oh! I-um- sure," he stuttered, reaching out and taking one.

"Sweet! Can I have some?" Maya asked, batting her eyes. Godot looked down at her, deflating slightly as he remembered she was there. "Oh, yeah I guess," his voice didn't have near the same tone as when he was addressing Phoenix. She either didn't notice or didn't care, snatching two pieces of gum. She offered one to Edgeworth, which he accepted with a soft smile.

"Thank you Maya. I think I'll save mine for later. Like you said, I never know when I'll need a fresh mouth," he said, looking at Phoenix as he finished the sentence.

He smiled and looked down at the floor as his cheeks got redder.

Maya didn't know what was going on exactly, but she could definitely sense the awkward tension between Edgeworth and Godot. And it was clear that Phoenix was caught in the middle of their exchange.

"Um, I'm just gonna pick Pearl up from the play room," she excused herself, heading to the courthouse's daycare.

"Oh good. Maybe Edgey would like to go with you," he volunteered the other to leave. Phoenix quirked a brow hearing the nickname leave Godot's mouth. "Since when did you start calling him that?" He only received a shrug and a crooked grin in return.

"No offense Maya but I would not. Wright and I have plans for lunch," he bluffed, making said plans up on the spot.

"We do?" Phoenix asked, brows furrowing. Then his eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh yeah we do!" He stood next to Edgeworth, his shoulders releasing visible tension as he did so.

"Oh really? Where are you eating?"

They responded in unison, but with different answers.

"Jack's Burger Shack."

"Sashimi Temple."

Godot smirked, catching them in their lie. "Well? Which is it?"

"We haven't decided," Wright said, looking at Miles for "confirmation."

"Right. I'm good with whatever you want," he said, smiling at Phoenix.

"How can you tell when he's agreeing with you and when he's just saying your name?" Godot teased. He couldn't help but giggle at the question.

"Heh, I don't know, I guess I've just learned how to tell the difference," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a half smile on his face and eyes squinted shut. Godot couldn't help but notice the strain on the fabric of his suit as he stretched his arm.

"Whoa, you been workin' out Trite?" he asked and before he could answer, he reached out and squeezed his bicep. His face flushed at the contact.

"Oh y-yeah, you noticed? Glad to see it's starting to pay off," he said, admiring his own arms. He flexed again, striking a new pose.

"Mind if I start calling you espresso? 'Cause you sure can pack a punch," Godot all but purred. Edgeworth couldn't believe that Phoenix was falling victim to his sleazy charm. Who was he kidding, if someone as attractive as Godot hit on him, he'd cave just as quickly. He had to refrain from sneering.

"Ha! If you want I guess you could. But don't start calling me short," he said pointedly, but with just enough playfulness to still be considered flirty. Miles's eyes were still transfixed on Wright's admittedly large biceps. Godot saw the opening and took the shot.

He snapped his fingers right in his face to gain his attention. H blinked and flinched, attention drawn to his smug face. "Earth to Edgeworth. You copy?" He scoffed and shoved the hand out of his face. Phoenix nudged him gently.

"If you wanted to feel them too you could've just said so," he teased.

"That's not-" but his denial died on his tongue when he was met with both of their knowing looks. He turned his head away but still reached out to feel his arm. There was no way he was passing up that opportunity.

"Hard as a rock, huh?" Phoenix asked and yes, he was totally fishing for compliments.

"I was going to say like sculpted marble," he said smoothly. Miles couldn't let Godot be the only one flirting with him. Said man only smirked wider, seeing as he was proven right. Regardless what Edgeworth said after this, it would be undeniable that he had feelings for the defense attorney.

"So, you got room for one more or are you dining at a table for two?" he questioned, subtly inviting himself. Edgeworth was ready to shoot down the request, but Wright beat him to it.

"Uh, sure you can join." Curse his kind nature.

"Sweet. Not as sweet as you, coffee creamer," he let his voice drop an octave, flashing another dazzling smile. Phoenix giggled and hid his face in one hand.

"Oho man, that was like, really stupid."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?" he teased, propping his elbow on his shoulder as they walked. Miles walked behind them and watched the prosecutor like a hawk, gritting his teeth all the while. He was relieved when they got to the parking lot.

"Wright, would you be a dear and ride with me? I'd like your opinion on this case I'm working on," he requested. He immediately perked up and walked over, leaving Diego's side.

"Sure, I'd love to! It'll be nice to give my legs a break from all the pedaling," he joked, walking over to his car and pulled the door handle. When it didn't open he frowned and tried again. And again. He kept pulling, making the annoying clicking noise each time it failed to open the door. "Miiiiiles," he whined.

He shook his head with a fond smile, chuckling softly. He unlocked the car just as Phoenix tugged again. He wasn't expecting that and stumbled a few steps backwards. Godot, never one to miss an opportunity, purposefully knocked his foot out from under him, just so he could catch him in a dip.

Edgeworth gasped as he saw him fall, clenching his fist as he watched Godot swiftly catch him like some kind of techno prince charming. Phoenix let out a small yelp as he fell, gripping onto his vest as he was caught.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at Godot. He wore a sly yet heart-melting grin. Phoenix stuttered out a quiet thank you.

"It was no problem. Be sure to watch your footing next time though," he said, clicking his tongue. The ace attorney felt his heartbeat quicken and butterflies fluttered inside his stomach. Edgeworth's eye twitched in anger and he cleared his throat.

"If my eyes serve me well, which they do, it was you who tripped him," Miles called him out. Godot shrugged guiltily and helped steady him on his feet.

"What can I say? It was just too tempting, just like how you look in that suit," he went on to compliment him. Phoenix's eyes widen, cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"M-me?" Godot nodded.

"Mhmm. It really brings out your eyes. Not to mention how nicely tailored it is." He bit his lip, looking him up and down. "You're about as enticing as a hot steaming cub o' joe," he flirted, laying it on thick. Wright's face turned beat red and he looked at the ground, flattered giggles leaving his lips. He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Edgeworth was by his side in an instant, ushering him closer to the car.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he taunted.

"Jack's Burgers," he practically growled, walking around the front of his car. He plopped in the driver's seat as Phoenix closed his door, waving at Godot as they drove off.

Edgeworth's jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Phoenix placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

"Miles what's wrong? You've been in a bad mood since I've seen you. Is it the case? Is that why you've been so grumpy?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

He sighed deeply. He should probably be honest with him- or rather halfway honest. He couldn't possibly tell him the whole truth.

"Actually I lied about that. I simply wanted to get away from him." Phoenix snorted in amusement.

"What's this? The great Miles Edgeworth lying? This must be serious," he chuckled, bumping their shoulders together.

He seemed to relax now that it was just the two of them. "He was really starting to get on my nerves."

"Yeah I noticed. He seemed to be in a lot better mood today, especially towards me. I don't know, but I can't help but think he's after something," he pondered aloud. Miles glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"He's a top prosecutor, he's always after something."

"You're not," Phoenix said gently. Edgeworth took a breath to steady himself.

"How do you know we're not after the same thing?" They reached a red light and he turned to look at him.

"I'd ask what it is, but I have a feeling you won't tell me," he smirked.

"You're right, as usual."

"Well it is my name after all," he joked. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"That was awful. Why did I laugh?"

"Because you love me," he teased. Oh if only he knew how accurate that statement was.

"Heh, I suppose I do somewhat."

"Nah you adore me. Admit it, I'm your favorite person," he goaded, leaning into his personal space. He even went as far as to lay his head on his shoulder.

"You're tied with Franziska," he admits.

"Wow, that's high praise." He hummed in agreement.

When they arrived at the diner, Godot was already waiting for them. Miles rolled his eyes as he spotted him leaning against the wall near the entrance. And where the hell did he find a toothpick? One leg was propped against the brick, arms folded across his chest and fuck he looked cool. If Edgeworth were a lesser man, he'd want to slap him.

"There you are! For a hot second there I thought you might've changed your mind and tried to ditch me," he taunted.

Miles wore a bored expression. "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, what happened to the Edgeworth that was in the car? All relaxed and smiley?" Phoenix asked, even poking his cheek to try and break the stern facade. He couldn't help but grin at the playful gesture.

"Ah, probably 'cause I'm here," Godot waved him off.

"Yes, that's precisely it," he answered with a rude smirk. Phoenix gasped.

"Miles!" he scolded.

"No no, it's completely my fault. I barged into his office and gave him a rude awakening of sorts. Please, allow me to make it up to you. Edgey."

He scoffed and Godot wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Lunch, my treat." When Miles turned to look at him, they were practically nose to nose. And Godot was so smug, it was infuriatingly amusing. He cracked a smile and shook his head.

"I'd be a fool to pass up a free lunch."

"Atta boy!" he cheered, pulling Phoenix closer in the same manner.

They were seated at a booth in a corner. Godot motioned with a bow for Phoenix to sit first. He chuckled and slid into the seat. Before Miles could make it to the seat next to him, Godot sat down in the empty spot in one fluid movement. He shot Edgeworth a victorious smirk.

Wright picked up on the tension, drumming a rhythm on the table and whistling quietly. He tried to make small talk.

"Sooo Godot. Saying you like coffee would be an understatement. I'm curious, if you could make your own coffee, what would you call it?"

He perked up at the question, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I couldn't just make one coffee, I'd have a whole brand. It would be an assortment of the darkest roasts and combination blends out there. I think our signature brew would be called Laser Beans. Ya get it? Like laser beams but it's coffee beans," he rambled on about his imaginary coffee business.

"Please, you do not have to explain the elementary concept of your pun," Miles quipped. Just for that, Godot scooted closer to Wright.

"Another popular blend: number 162, the Phoenix. Strong and sweet, with an unexpected fiery kick that rises from the grounds. Just what you need on those long, rough days." Phoenix gulped, staring at the red lines of his mask. Godot cocked his head, looking over at a furious Edgeworth.

"Wouldn't you agree Miles?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- I'm not much of a coffee person," he fumbled over his words. He jerked his head to the side, focusing on a crack in the wall.

"I think he's just too embarrassed to admit it," he whispered loudly, making eye contact with Miles as he said it.

"Heh, yeah you got him good with that one," Phoenix agreed.

"Ngh- who's side are you on anyways?" he asked defensively.

"My side," he said, clearly proud of himself. Miles softened at those words, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"Of course you are."

The waiter came and took their drink orders before leaving them be.

"I'm surprised you got water. I was expecting coffee," Phoenix mused.

"It's important to stay adequately hydrated," he explained, browsing through the menu.

"With how much you drink it, I would've thought you'd drop dead asleep without it," Edgeworth teased, looking at his own menu.

"Nah, I could drink eight cups and go to sleep right after. I'm used to the caffeine," he said casually.

"Wait, then what do you do when you need to stay up? Drink a whole pot?" Phoenix asked, bumping their shoulders together. He turned to him with his most charming smile.

"Well, instead of coffee keeping me awake, I could just have you," he said in a sultry voice. Phoenix flushed a dark crimson with an embarrassed, lopsided grin on his face as his eyes shifted between Godot and Miles. He was rendered speechless, the only sound he was able to make was a drawn out "uuh."

Godot grunted in pain when Edgeworth swiftly kicked his shin.

"Quite forward, aren't we?" he growled.

"You know I am," he said, snapping his fingers at him.

"And has your vulgar cockiness ever gotten you far?" he countered.

"Sure it does. I always make it to home base," he teased. Miles was relieved when the waiter came to set their drinks down, disrupting the conversation. They asked if they were ready to order yet, but Godot had spent so much time flirting with Phoenix, that he'd barely looked at the menu. And Miles was so busy keeping him in line that he didn't know what to order either. So they asked for a few extra minutes.

"You should really consider using your time wisely," Edgeworth advised. Godot snorted and mumbled something about him doing the same.

"I think I'm gonna have the Jack classic, what about you?" Phoenix asked, looking across the table at Miles.

"I think I'll have the same," he said, offering a warm smile.

Godot's smirk grew. "I'm leaning more towards the thhhick patty," he said, drawing out the word. Phoenix arched a brow and chuckled.

"You really put a lot of emphasis on the word thick there," he teased.

"What can I say? I like a lot of meat on my buns," he leaned closer, placing a hand on Wright's knee and squeezed gently. Phoenix giggled and scooted away in the seat.

"Hey, watch it. I'm ticklish," he admitted. Godot grinned like a shark.

"Oh Trite, don't you know that's not something you admit?" he teased, repeating the motion. Phoenix barked out a laugh, pushing the hand away playfully. Miles was glaring daggers at them and grit his teeth. He was the picture of jealousy.

When Wright moved his hand away, Godot purposefully interlocked their fingers so that they were holding hands. Edgeworth let out an angry huff and held the menu up to block his view. Or maybe to prevent them from seeing the sneer on his face. The world is cruel however, and Godot is even crueler. Which is exactly why he grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down to meet his eyes directly.

"Thought you said you knew what to order. Why're you hiding from us?" he asked, elbows propped on the table as he leaned forward.

"I... I'm not! I simply thought I saw someone I don't particularly like and didn't want them to see me. But looking at them now I realize my mistake," he easily lied.

"Yeah, you and I have made a lot of enemies," Godot agreed. He looked between Wright and Edgeworth. "At first I thought you two were. But now that I've gotten to know you both a little more, I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth." As much as he loved riling Miles up, his ultimate goal was to make him admit his feelings for the other.

They both flushed a pale pink, looking away. After the waiter took their orders, Phoenix excused himself to the bathroom. Godot was smiling smugly as he watched him leave.

"It's times like these that I'm grateful for my visor. It would be a real shame if I wasn't able to watch that ass leave, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, looking at him with a shit eating grin. Miles slammed a fist on the table in anger.

He spoke low so as to not cause a scene, but his jaw was still clenched. "I order you to stop this at once."

"What, the flirting? You said you didn't like him, so why should it bother you?" he asked innocently.

"You speak out of your ass, you use crude and childish humor, you're completely insincere, your pick up lines are cheesy and all coffee related, and you're invading his personal space constantly!" he scolded quietly. Godot shrugged.

"He sure doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he likes the attention. People tend to enjoy my company," he bragged.

"You have no intentions other than making me angry," he pointed out.

"And it's working," he boasted. Miles's mouth gaped open as he thought of a response.

"So what if it is? I could just as easily be angry due to the fact that he's my friend, and you're nothing more than some- some playboy who's trying to prove a point!"

"Aww you think I'm a playboy? That's my new favorite compliment," he said, resting his chin on his hands.

Edgeworth raised an unamused brow. "It really shouldn't be. You're classier than that, Diego."

He snorted in amusement. "Even after all those things you said about me?" Miles rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, even after all that. So be the bigger man and put an end to this," he reasoned.

"Depends. You got a crush on Wright?"

"I still don't see how that's any of your business."

He shrugged, halfway triumphant. "Hey, that's better than the harsh no I got earlier. You'll admit it sooner or later."

"Not to you I won't," he growled. Edgeworth fiddled with his napkin and laid it across his lap neatly.

"To be honest, I don't care if you admit it to me."

He cocked his head, looking at him skeptically. "You don't?"

Godot shook his head. "No. I just want you to admit it to Trite."

Edgeworth's eyes widened and he recoiled slightly at those words. "Are you insane? I can't possibly tell him that!"

"Tell me what?" Phoenix asked as he walked up. Miles stuttered out an answer.

"Oh! Um, I-I'll tell you later. Now isn't... a good time."

Phoenix gave him a look as he sat down next to him. "You sure you're okay? You're acting, I don't know, weird."

Edgeworth was going to come up with something to say to that, but Godot beat him to it. He held his hands up in surrender. "You got us. There's no reason to lie to him any more Edgey. Truth is, he's planning you a surprise party."

Phoenix's brows shot up. "Wow really? But it's not for another two months or so."

"Yeah well, you know him. Always so organized, and he thinks three steps ahead. Sorry about ruining the surprise," Godot apologized for wrecking the fake party.

Wright rubbed the back of his neck and offered a shy smile. "Don't be! Knowing me, I'll probably forget about it by then. So-"

He was cut off by Godot's phone ringing. "Sorry, one sec." He checked the caller ID, brows furrowing. "That's weird, it's Gumshoe. Hope everything's okay." He answered the call with a flick of his wrist, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hey Dick, everything cool?"

"IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT COOL!" Gumshoe screamed into the speaker. Godot winced and held the phone away from his ear. Edgeworth and Wright shared a look of slight concern.

"Is everything okay?" Phoenix asked quietly. Godot nodded and waved a hand as if to say "all good."

"Hey keep your voice down will you? You're about to burst my eardrum," he said with a small chuckle.

"NO I WILL NOT! JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GETTING BETWEEN PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH LIKE THAT?" Both men in question went stiff as a board, faces turning red.

Godot paled as he was chewed out. "Uuh hey this really isn't the time-"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU THEY HAD THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER JUST SO YOU COULD SWOOP IN AN' TRY TO STEAL WRIGHT AWAY LIKE THAT!"

Godot offered them an embarrassed grin. "Uh, can you excuse me?" They both refused to meet his gaze and just hummed in agreement. The prosecutor slid out of the booth, holding the phone up to his ear, speaking in a hushed yet firm tone.

"Listen Dick, you got it all wrong. I was just-"

"No you listen to me pal! Maya told me the whole thing!"

Godot walked into the bathroom of the restaurant to have a more private conversation. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not trying to hook up with Trite or whatever you think is going on."

"... You're not?" Gumshoe asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. In fact, I'm trying to get them together." Gumshoe snorted.

"You sure got a funny way of showing it."

"I'm making Edgeworth jealous so that he'll admit his feelings," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ooooh, that's smart!"

"Yeah, so don't go blabbering to Phoenix. I know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey I can totally keep secrets! I just don't want to very often!" he defended himself.

"Alright, are we done here? 'Cause we're out at lunch, and our food should be getting here soon."

"Okay yeah, sorry about the mix up. I'll let you get back to lunch," Dick said, hanging up. Godot heaved a sigh of relief, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Miles sat in an awkward silence as they watched Godot leave. Miles was sitting rigidly, staring at the napkin in his lap. Phoenix twirled the straw around in his glass.

"C-can you believe him? Heh, Gumshoe sure does have an active imagination," Wright said nervously, desperate to break the silence. Miles was quick to agree.

"Yes, he does," he allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "I suppose he's a romantic at heart," he reasoned.

"Uh, yeah. I guess he is," he agreed. The expression on his face was a mixture of nervousness, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Edgeworth took a deep breath. It was either now or never.

"But is he wrong?"

Phoenix whipped his head over to look at him. "What?" He tried to mask the hopefulness in his voice.

"While what he says may seem odd or far fetched at times, he's usually right." He spared a glance at Wright, trying to read him.

"Miles, a-are you saying-"

"I like you Phoenix. As a friend, yes, but... also more," he finally admitted.

Phoenix practically lit up. "Really? Wow that's- I mean- I've liked you since the third grade!" he blurted out, relieved to finally get this off his chest.

"I... also had a bit of a crush. And when we met in court that first time, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came flooding back." Wright reached out, holding his hand. They stared at each other, warm smiles lighting up the room.

Miles started chuckling softly, and Phoenix cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Godot was doing all this to make me jealous, so that I'd admit my feelings. And it worked."

He nudged him with his elbow teasingly. "Well then, I guess a thank you's in order." Edgeworth groaned, though it was just for show.

"If I thank him then I'll never hear the end of it," he complained lightheartedly.

"Maybe that's not the worst thing. You're cute when you're annoyed and embarrassed," Phoenix cooed, propping his arm on the table to rest his chin in his hand. Miles blushed softly.

"S-stop it, that's supposed to be my line," he grumbled playfully, looking away. Phoenix smirked and pecked his cheek, relishing in the way his blush darkened considerably.

Godot was watching from around the corner of the hall, letting them have their moment. He wore a satisfied smirk as he walked up to their table. Both Wright and Edgeworth scooted away, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't play coy you two. I knew my plan would work. You're welcome by the way." They were both rendered flustered and speechless, even as the waiter set down their food.

#phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #godot #diego armando #godot ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #i didn't really know how to end this #but i think it's sweet #flustered!phoenix is the cutest fucking thing ever ok #jealous!edgeworth #ok but writing godot's flirting & teasing flustered the hell out of me

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ethereal-blossom · 3 years

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May ask for headcannons for chuuya, Mori, fukuzawa, dazai, and fyodor with an empath s/o. A downside to being an empath though is there a/o is constantly tired from feeling there emotions aswell as any other ones around them(on the street) as a result of this they don’t leave the house often and simply work from home. On the upside s/o can tell when there lying or hiding something from them and isn’t afraid to call them out are there bullshit.

I know this was a long request and if you Wright it, I want to say thank you because I’ve had this idea for a while now and just never asked anyone so if you Wright it thank you very much. Love you and you writing ❤️

a/n: hi anon, i decided to go with dazai, chuuya and fyodor :) and sorry for the long wait! 💗

honestly? dazai was terrified of you at first. he’s the kind of person to hide his true and fragile feelings. it was a long process, but you cared too much to let dazai face his demons alone. slowly, after seeing your dedication and care, the clown let his act fall in front of you.

it was a good thing that you weren’t afraid to call dazai out on his bullshit, because everybody knows he needs it. although he doesn’t need someone to control him, dazai needs someone who tells him when things are problematic or not.

dazai is usually smart enough to recognize when somebody is lying or hiding something, but it still did something to him when you could, too. he used his logic, you used your feelings. opposites yet the same. it made dazai feel less alone in his struggle to feel human.

this man will absolutely call you a few times a day for three reasons: one, he desires your attention. two, he wants to annoy kunikida by calling you during work time. three, he knows being physical present can be exhausting for you.

nevertheless, dazai takes you out in the nighttime. he would make sure to avoid crowded places and together you’ll walk through the lightened streets of yokohama.

dazai makes sure nothing gets too overwhelming for you at those rare moments you leave your home. he can read you well, so he notices when your environment is too much for you. in that case dazai always knows how to make the situation less intense and escorts you away from it. if the situation calls for it, dazai will leave you alone at home.

in short: i do think it’s going to be a very hard and long process for dazai to feel comfortable around you, but with care and time it will succeed. although i can see dazai as a clingy lover, i also see him as someone who needs a lot of space and time for himself. so,he wouldn’t mind if his presence is too overwhelming for you. he’ll support you through phone calls and text messages.

chuuya would take you being an empath very seriously. he cares so much about your feelings and he doesn't want you to get overwhelmed.

it actually works quite well that you work from home since chuuya has a busy job. and just like dazai, chuuya would call or text you during work.

chuuya wasn't the one to lie or hide something from his significant other if it wasn't to protect them, but he learned the hard way that he can't hide anything from you. when chuuya doesn't want to talk about something that happened at work or in his personal life to protect you, you'd call it bullshit and demand him to tell you. chuuya admired that dedication to help him even though it could overwhelm you. your dedication and your feisty side made you even more attractive.

something chuuya also admired was how well you seemed to know him. since you were sensitive to others emotions, you knew those of his as well. it would regularly surprise chuuya whenever you seemed to exactly know what he was feeling. it made chuuya realize that he truly couldn't hide anything from you. a smile would appear on his face when he thought of that. there were no secrets in your relationship, only love and the desire to help each other.

chuuya is very protective of you and what other people's opinions are. he doesn't want you to feel misunderstood or someone to make fun of your lifestyle. he would educate them on empaths after he calmed down.

chuuya finds communication very important. he texts and calls you, but he also wants you to admit when you're feeling drained or unwell. even though chuuya is a sympathetic guy, he doesn't feel others emotions like you. he wants you to feel comfortable.

in short: chuuya will make sure to always support you and to make sure you always know that you can rely on him.

fyodor is aware of what being an empath means to you and to be honest, he isn't afraid to manipulate that into his favor.

he would use it for you as an excuse why he wants you to stay at whatever his location is so you don't have to deal with many people's emotions. however, you're not that easy to control and know how to stand up for yourself. even though fyodor is a really cunning person who knows how to move certain things, he's impressed by your direct way of saying things.

when fyodor takes care of your security if he has to leave for his striving, then he makes sure again that the people are limited but very skilled.

you sometimes scare him with how well you know what's going on in his mind. fyodor is cunning and tried to give opposite signals of what he's truly thinking, you always figure it out. he finds its very impressive and sometimes wonder how helpful that could be.

high sensitive people tend to find more pleasure than others when they listen to music. if you're too drained by emotions then fyodor will play the cello for you. it makes him feel calm, too.

i don't know how much you agree on his ideals, but fyodor is quite manipulative and controlling. so, you probably should have to call him out a lot. fyodor will realize soon you're not that easy to control even though you are higher sensitive than others.

in short: i think fyodor would be careful around you and that he doesn't have a high chance to manipulate you. he maybe doesn't show it as obvious, but he takes care of you.

#dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoevsky

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emotions-ew · 3 years

Text

A Collection of Queer Country Artists and Songs for anyone who doesn’t feel like there’s country music they can relate to...

There is this idea that country music is like just Republican men singing about beer, and trucks and also Jesus, and that is kind of fair because loads of it is but there are some cool as hell queer/lgbtq+ country artists. Finding those and finding that representation in a genre of music I was literally raised on kind of changed my life in a tiny way and I wanted to share that.

(This is by no means a comprehensive list and also I’m basing the “Country” part of this sometimes on my subjective opinion/limited music knowledge so yuh please don’t hate me if I get some wrong)

Also link below for a Spotify playlist of my favourite gay/gayish country music, some mentioned in this post some not, (with a title that isn’t obviously gay for anyone who can’t openly listen to gay stuff on their public accounts for whatever reason) so feel free to skip the massive essay and just jump straight to that. And pretty please repost if I missed anyone/ any songs you love.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KB6PmUxnpkU7lih8Bysvw

Artists To Follow:

Chely Wright

- Right off the bat, Chely Wright is a legend and I’m in love with her. So, in the 90′s Chely Wright was kind of a huge deal. She started her career as a singer/songwriter and released her first album in ‘94, which was critically acclaimed although never reached the commercial success of her later works. By ‘97 she was really hitting her stride, dropping her breakout hit “Shut up and Drive” (a personal favourite of mine) followed two years later by the biggest hit of her career “Single White Female”. Throughout all that Chely Wright was, to the world, a good old fashioned, heterosexual southern gal. Privately it was a bit of a different story. She had public relationships with male country artists, all while pursuing a secret decade long relationship with a woman.

I hadn’t ever really heard a Chely Wright song until a few years ago so I never knew about her music or career pre-coming out but I do know that even though by the time she came out in 2010 she was by no means at the height of her fame Chely Wright is kind of one of the biggest names in country music to be out and proud (in my opinion) and I love her like an insane amount. I literally play her music in my car when I have passengers just so I can be like “fun fact this singer is actually gay-” and then subject them to a lengthy explanation of her entire career. She came out with an album and a memoir and the album is my favourite of her work because it’s so fucking raw and because I relate to most of it immensely. Anyways Chely Wright went fucking through it in her journey to being her authentic self and now she’s out and proud and married to a woman and they have a family together and I’m a fucking sucker for a happy ending and y’all should add her to every playlist you have. And on top of that her music is genuinely good. Coming out undoubtedly damaged her career but I think that

Brandi Carlile

- As far as I can tell Brandi Carlile has been out her whole career. I feel like this list is just going to be me saying “I’m in love with her” about a bunch of women old enough to be my mother but in my defence, I am honestly in love with her. She’s been making music since she was like, seventeen, and has had a bunch of massive hits, as a singer, songwriter, and producer. If you want to cry kind of happy tears listen to her performance of “Bring my Flowers Now” with Tanya Tucker. She’s won Grammy’s and CMT awards and she’s done it all as an out Queer woman. She’s also a founding member of The Highwomen, an all-female country music group who released their first album in 2019, comprised of Carlile, Marren Morris, Natalie Hemby and Amanda Shires. I really love this band because they’re four artists who are immensely successfully in their own right collabing, much like the Highwaymen, and their music is phenomenal while also being a fuck you to mainstream country music and their inability to properly represent women in country music spaces.

She’s been married to a woman (smoking hot and also brilliant) since 2012 and they have two kids together and if you want to cry (again) then you have to listen to her song “Mother” about her eldest daughter. A queer country artist absolutely worth adding to all your playlists.

Brooke Eden

- As I understand it Eden came out publicly in January of this year. She’s engaged to Hilary Hoover, who she’s been dating since 2015 apparently. I can’t even imagine the pressure that must be on a person and how stressful it would be to keep a relationship secret from the whole world for years and personally I think they’re a cute as hell couple and I wish them literally all the happiness in the world.

Brooke Eden has a few older songs that I think are really good, my favourite being “Act Like You Don’t”, and while her new stuff isn’t my usual country vibe I am a sucker for literally anything gay and it is legally my gay duty to stream any song that she releases to support my fellow queer. It’s quite different to anything Wright or Carlile sing but I actually kind of love that because it shows that country music of all different shapes and sizes and styles can be sung by queer artists.

Amythyst Kiah

- Okay so I am a very new listener to Amythyst Kiah, but her music is literally so beautiful it would be a straight up sin to not include her on this list. Her music is country-blues-roots esq (more roots than country, I think?) and her voice is so unique. She grew up in Chattanooga and has been playing music since childhood. She recently made her Opry debut which is fucking awesome. She also belongs to a band called Our Native Daughters, described as “A supergroup of Black women in traditional music”. Their debut album “Songs of Our Native Daughters” did numbers and I haven’t listened to the whole thing but my favourite so far are “Black Myself” and “I Knew I Could Fly” so y’all add that to your playlists along with “Wild Turkey” by Amythyst Kiah because holy hell her voice on that will blow your mind.

Steve Grand

- The first man to make this list, he should frankly be honoured. Grand has been an out and proud gay man making country music since like 2013, and I have so much respect for an artist who chose to simply never be in, choosing instead to simply write gay ass songs about being in love with men and letting the chips fall where they man. His music is always going to have a special place in my heart and, he’s cute so if you’re into men and music by men give him a google. add him to your playlists, his All-American Boy album is literally just a dozen songs that are perfect to yell-sing along to.

Katie Pruitt

- Not hugely knowledgeable on Katie Pruitt but her music makes me feel crazy intense emotions and is absolutely gay

Honorable Mention Artists I haven’t Really Listened to But Who I Know to be gay thanks to google and might be your thing so totally check them out:

Brandy Clark

Ty Herndon

Shelly Fairchild

Lavendar Country

Trixie Mattel

Cameron Hawthorn

Drop any other names of artists or songs you know of

Specific Songs That Make Me Fucking Cry or (in good and bad ways (but always in a gay way)) or basically are just gay as hell:

If She Ever Leaves Me; The Highwomen

- So, this album came out about a week before my first (and only) girlfriend broke up with me. The general gist of the song is a woman singing about how her loved isn’t ever going to leave her but if she does it sure as hell won’t be for a creepy man in a bar. A little ironic that I felt I related to it so intensely, considering she did in fact leave me. There’s this one lyric that goes “I’ve loved her in secret/I’ve lover here out loud/the sky hasn’t always been blue” and my girlfriend and I were crazy deep in the closet so I drew her a cute little picture of a grey cloud and on the back I wrote that lyric and I gave it to her and to me it was kind of a promise that one day I’d get a chance to love her out loud and even though I never actually did this song is forever going to make me cry because of the little bit of hope that lyric gave me and the way it’s inclusion on this overwhelmingly mainstream country album made me feel like acceptance was just that little bit closer.

All American Boy; Steve Grand

- Definitely one of the first gay country songs I ever heard, and Steve Grand didn’t once sacrifice a scrap of country for the gay. It’s beautiful, it’s a little sad, it’s hopeful. It’s forever going to hold a special place in my heart and the music videos is kind of one of my favourites ever. I found this song before I found myself and the way it made my heart warm should have been a stronger sign than I took it to be.

Like Me; Chely Wright

- When you love someone you kind of make it your mission to know them in a way that no one else can. This song by Chely Wright is sort of an ode to that, and how even once you lost someone, you’re still going to know every little thing about them. On top of that it sort of speaks to the idea that all these things Wright learned about this woman, she learned in secret and she knew her and loved her in secret and now that they’re gone from each other she’s left with all of this knowledge and all of these questions and no one to answer them. I love the way it’s so slow and the melody and her voice, the way it’s low and a little raspy, make this one of my favourite Chely Wright songs.

The Mother; Brandi Carlile

- Sorry but a song about being a mother by a queer woman is going to make me cry every time and actually I’m not that sorry. It’s quite a simple song, if any song written by Brandi Carlile can ever be described as ‘simple’, it’s an ode to her daughter. My favourite line is “you are not an accident/where no one thought it through” because it speaks to the fact that in order for queer women to have a kid together they have to want it so damn bad and also I just like the way her voice sounds on that line. This song is also the perfect thing to listen to if you ever for a second feel like being gay/queer is going to stand in the way of you having a family because it absolutely doesn’t have to and if that’s something you want, you can have it. Don’t let people try and convince you otherwise.

Loving Her; Katie Pruitt

- Unapologetic gay love. Opening a song with “If loving hers a sin, I don’t wanna go to heaven” is a fucking baller move and she went there. The lyrics are beautiful, and her voice is phenomenal. It could be a sad song, about confronting religious repression and grappling with what that means for your love, but instead its triumphant. Katie Pruitt doesn’t give a fuck if you have a problem because she’s going to write songs for her lover.

Jesus From Texas; Semler

- Not actually totally sure this is a country song, but it has the words ‘Jesus’ and ‘Texas’ in the title so I feel safe including it in this list. Honestly, I don’t really know why I relate so hard to this song. Like, I wasn’t really raised with religion, so I don’t know what it is about this funky little tune that makes me want to sob but there’s something about this tune that makes me want to do whatever the opposite of get up and dance is, but like, in a good way.

Lovin’ Again; Steve Grand

- Breakup song that ends kind of positively? So good to sing along to at high, high volumes. The idea that losing someone doesn’t have to mean losing yourself and just because you can’t love them doesn’t mean you’re not ever going to love again. But also kind of about how it’s hard to get over someone, I don’t know it’s just good.

Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears; Lavender Country

- Jesus christ if this isn’t the coolest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. Sorry but a gay country group formed in 1972 who dropped possibly the first gay themed country album, and this was the title of one of the songs. God I am in love.

Songs that (to me) are a little fruity or that I just relate to in a gay way:

Picket Fences; Chely Wright

- Chely Wright is gay but this song came out long before she did and when she wrote it, it wasn’t supposed to be gay which is why it’s in this section and not the previous. The reason it’s included at all is because frankly ma’am, Mrs Wright, it’s a little fruity. And I feel a little bad for joking because honestly to me, the way I hear this song and knowing the context (that Wright was deeply closeted at the time she wrote and released it), it’s kind of just sad. The general gist of the song is Wright asking what’s so great about a traditional lifestyle anyways. It could be read as a woman genuinely questioning why we push that expectation that she’ll have two kids and a husband and a picket fence lifestyle, or even could be read as a woman who’s trying to deflect how much she does in fact want that, you have to listen and form your own opinion. But to me, it feels like a woman who’s desperately trying to justify why she doesn’t want that life not because she can’t have it, but she knows it will never be right for her. I don’t know it’s hard to explain I just feel like this song is a little bit gay even though I’m sure she didn’t intend that.

Sinning with You; Sam Hunt

- Sorry but this song is gay. Sorry but you can’t write the lines “I never felt like I was sinning with you/Always felt like I could talk to God in the morning” and “if it’s so wrong why did it feel so right” and “But I never felt shame, never felt sorry/Never felt guilty touching your body” and not to mention the opening line of “raised in the first pew/praises for yeshua/case of a small town repression”, and expect to not sit in my car sobbing as I realised that while I never felt like what we did was a sin she absolutely did, and wishing I could have told her that I was sorry for making her carry the weight of both our souls but also that it wasn’t a sin and nothing in the world could feel that good and be that bad and it isn’t right that she had to be so ashamed of something that was just so good. Sam Hunt actually said after he wrote the song that while it was reflection on his own relationship with faith he genuinely hopes that people in the lgbtq community can like find comfort or whatever in his words and like go off king, we stan an ally.

How do I Get There; Deana Carter

- This ones easy, it’s about falling in love with your best friend and suddenly realising you want more than just friendship with them. Sorry Deana, that’s gay. In my Deana Carter of like Year 10 I played this song on repeat and screamed along to the lyrics as though singing it hard enough would make her like me back.

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daddywright · 3 years

Note

I have only recently got into the ace attorney fandom, and this story was the first story I read, and I feel spoiled! I absolutely loved every chapter, so I'm gonna word vomit here and tell you everything I love about this!

"She offers him a smile. It’s small, tentative, but it possesses a strength that makes a hidden part of him twist and burn with quiet envy." the first time we see nick's wish to be as strong as mia!

Considering the fact that nick didn't have any prominent figure in his life, it makes sense that he would look up to gregory so much

"Phoenix looks up, and starts walking towards Mia Fey

He doesn't stop for two years."

THE RELATIONSHIP THAT MIA AND NICK HAD WAS PRECIOUS AND DESERVES MORE THAN WHAT THE FANDOM GIVES THEM

"Larry’s arms wrap around him, squeezing almost too tight" People forget that Larry and Phoenix were good friends too, and Larry would help his best friend

"Nobody believed him, nobody but Mia" Maya is what Phoenix is to Mia and I adore that

"He wishes, desperately, that he’d said it while she was still alive. I loved you. For everything you did." Not you absolutely breaking my fucking heart

Also the first AA game felt unnatural in the sense of how seemingly unaffected Phoenix seemed at Mia's murder so I'm really glad you wrote it this way

"Expensive. Thoughtful. Too much." SHUT UP NICK YOU DESERVE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

Also quick break to mention how I absolutely fucking love your writing style and i wish I was literally half as talented as you cuz the last time I read something that made me feel this multitude of emotions was ocean vuong. And I practically worship Ocean Vuong. So now I worship you too

"You're a stranger to me // When will I stop hoping?" I never really realised just how badly nick musta been hurt by good ol' bratworth before this fic, but now that I have read it, it would have hurt him so bad

"Is this why you never answered my letters? Because I was a reminder? Because it hurt too much?" Honestly what happened to miles and phoenix's friendship hurts so much because it should have never happened, and miles didn't deserve that.

"Maybe Miles Edgeworth is not the man he thought he’d be, either." yo when I tell you this hurt I mean this huRT

Fun fact! My birthday is on the same day as DL-6 anniversary. Gregory Edgeworth died on my birthday. I feel horrible now

"monster. You were nine years old and he's a monster. " No one has made me feel this much emotion for what happened to Miles in a single sentence other than you. I commend you for that

"I love you," he says quietly. He has never said those words to anyone, except for Dahlia Hawthorne.

Maya sniffs in his ear, crushing him tight. "I love you, too."

He has never heard them back.

PHOENIX HAS NEVER HEARD THE WORDS " I LOVE YOU" COME BACK TO HIM ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME WHY NOW I'M SAD

"Tell me everything. Every detail—" Miles is worried bout nick and why wouldn't he? gods you're so gay miles but tbf if I knew someone like nick irl i'd go ballistic too

"He determined the motive for his own assault...with amnesia. Naturally." My man's smart af and he is king

"Is that what she thinks of me? That I'm like that? That I don't care about who the bad guys really are?" Gumshoe noooo you're hella precious! Also this particular chapter was so well written! loved this soo much!

Also taking a minute to appreciate the pacing! Rarely do I ever come across an author who just hits that sweet spot of perfect pacing and you did! so thank you!

Alright so here are a few thoughts that I felt capcom needed to do which you did for us!

no. 1 - Address the trauma phoenix faced with not only dahlia but also with mia's death

no. 2 - Actually fucking flesh out a good relationship dynamic between larry and phoenix

no. 3 - actually! have! phoenix! be hurt! in bridge to turnabout! istg my man would not have dropped from a burning bridge to a freezing river only to have a cold

AUNT FRANZY AND PEARLS MAN!

THEY CUTE

ok so I have a LOT of feelings for bridge to turnabout and HOO BOY BUCKLE UP

So I always thought that in this fic, miles must have felt fucking awful! I mean he very clearly hates who he was and what that has led to but that must have been doubled over with this case! Phoenix would have died if not for mia and it would have been indirectly miles's fault. I think about that alot

Like he said that he very much regrets whatever he did as bratworth in the phone call with gumshoe but i don't think he anticipated this. poor edgeworth

Also I think this was the final nail in the coffin for miles. Phoenix forgave him, after all the fucked up shit miles did, and that made that man go "how is this guy so fucking compassionate awwwww shit I'm in fucking love with this idiotic brave man".

my main thoughts were "holy shit phoenix must have been feeling awful." like to learn that you were in love with a person who turned out to be a murderer but then not a murderer cuz everything you felt about that was real and just...... it must have hurt. He never fell in love with dahlia. it was iris, always. and WHAT ABOUT MILES DURING THIS!!! Like to learn that the man you love was falsely led to believe that he was in love with a person he rarely met and then learn that his ex who is not murderous might still be in love with him because "that was real. that part was real." like damn. people just gloss over this

also I feel terrible for iris F in the chat for iris lads.

Dahlia literally haunting that courtroom scene. I felt mia's power. I felt her desperation. I felt everything and I am once again in awe of the absolute power your writing holds.

also godsdamn pearls had to go through all that shit huh. also FRANMAYAAAAAA THANK YOUUUU

I too, am a hoe confused as to what I should feel towards diego.

Ok anyways we jump to disbarment now

"He just winks at her and says Maya has other talents, and if Mystic Maya overhears, she puffs up at him like the fish from the aquarium she saw once, the one with all the spikes and silly eyes."

you know what constantly amazes me? your ability to change tones so effortlessly. When writing from edgey's pov, the language is sophisticated. precise. when writing from pearly's pov your language is simplistic, child-like. from phoenix's pov it's natural. grounded

"She never knew anybody who made faces like him, growing up in Kurain, and it’s one of the things that makes him special." Yo phoenix is the most amazing uncle ever and we all know it ok he's brilliant

I'M RUNNING OUT OF CHARACTER LIMITS

PEARLY CALLING EDGEY AT FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE I'M SOFFFFTTTT

“I think I did something really bad." trucy baby no it's not your fault

pearl and trucy bonding supremacy. my girls would fuck shit up

"She’d meant to do this properly, one day." Thank you for giving importance to maya's feelings. thank you for treating her like a real human being. thank you

“Everything that happened...for what? It’s only gotten people hurt. Pearly. Our mother.” Me. Me." I felt so bad for maya here. I wish I could tell you in precise words about how this exact framing of the sentence is what broke me. "me. me" maya deserved more, but mia did all she could

"What do scared kids need? ...Food." not you breaking my godsdamn heart again. phoenix just knows what's it like being a helpless child, and he'll be damned if he ever lets anyone face that again

“‘Course, Pearls,” he says reflexively, before frowning. “What for?” reflexively. if every man in the world could be like phoenix wright then the world would be worthy of the gods

"Another one?" give it 2 years edgey she'll be your daughter too

"after countless hours creating the man’s living space in his mind from the background snatches he’d seen in the man’s ridiculous video calls." NOT ONLY DO THEY VC FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON BUT ALSO MILES ACTUALLY SPENDS TIME TRYING TO RECREATE HIS ROOM?? BECAUSE HE WOULD ONE DAY LIKE TO BE IN IT??? good gods these bitches gay. good for them

"because just as day is light and night is dark, Phoenix Wright is an honorable man." damn straight. you love to see it (it being a 27+ year old man pining for another 27+ year old man)

also hey miles! how do you feel about the fact that the man you love changed his fucking major and degrees halfway through college just so he could see you again only for you to be incredibly rude to him and make him end up in jail! (i bully edgeworth cuz i love him)

"Wright finishes, shrugging like it’s nothing, like his commitment and belief isn’t the most extraordinary thing that Miles has ever faced." it's more than pining at this point. it's incredible faith and trust. Miles had someone who cared about him even after all those years despite him having changed so drastically, ofc he would be surprised. Miles loves phoenix and so do i.

also HOT DAMN YOU WRITING IS JUST * MWAH *

Also the whole segment where they kiss is just !!!!! miles wants! it's beautiful! THEY'RE IN LOVEEE

receiving poisonous bottles which your ex tried to kill you with. My man can't get a break huh

Miles being chivalrous and protective and absolutely stealing my godsdamn heart (and phoenix's too)!

Klavier being the absolute king that he is we stan

The hostage situation section? gods miles must have been terrified.

Phoenix not being able to promise pearly that he'd always come back home and miles hearing it and like... ouch. my heart. you didn't need to do that (but i love your for it)

GODS THE CLIMAX WITH KRISTOPH WAS SOOO SATISFYING AND LIKE MY MAN PHOENIX REALLY PUNCHED THAT BITCH HUH

klavier baby I am so sorry

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

and thus my comment ends. I believe I have almost used up all of my commenting limits and i leave with these few parting words : HOLY SHIT YOUR AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU!

also I made a playlist on spotify for this fic! here's the link : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3k8lRHiO8ZXQDLpiTUL7SN?si=fc3b35b4ab064867

gods this was long huh

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY....WHERE DO I BEGIN...THE FACT THAT YOU BROKE THE CHARACTER LIMIT ON AO3 AND MADE A PLAYLIST? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

thank you so much for all the amazing things you said....i am crying on a Wednesday morning knowing my writing was appreciated this much. thank you!

#ask tag #long post #my fic #nymphietonkslupin

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freakingbellam · 3 years

Text

Timeless (HP & HOO crossover x reader)

Synopsis: What would you say if I told you that Hogwarts and Camp Half-Blood are not so far apart? Yeah, Gale and Y/n would also say this is crazy. But these two girls are about to discover that even though they are far apart, the magic that surrounds them is the same. After all, what do a time travel, a fearful prophecy and a Titan about to resurrect, have in common? Certainly more than you can imagine.

Paring: Apollo x reader

Warnings: None, I guess.

Reader: Percy's step sister! reader

Word count: 1.7k

A / N: escreve o que quiser (notas da autora)

September 2010, New York - USA

Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t cry like a baby when she saw Argo II return to Camp Half-Blood. She had been forbidden to help in the battle against the giants, but she was nevertheless not full at Camp. After the near invasion of Camp Jupiter and Reyna's visit, things got messed up there.

But the best part of the return of the other demigods was seeing Percy again. He looked extremely exhausted, but happy to be back in one piece. Y/n hugged him for so long that Percy almost fell asleep in her arms.

The boy was welcomed with all the frenzy he deserved, entitled to a hearty banquet and a visit from his father, along with a very tearful Sally and a relieved Paul.

Tyson had been absolutely thrilled to see his older brother talking to his friends by the fire, which glowed high and yellow, mirroring the emotion of the half-bloods.

Despite being as happy as the others, and maybe even more so, Y/n retired a little earlier that night. She didn't walk long before her absence was noticed.

‘Mingling with the shadows? I thought this was my own thing.” The girl smiled at Nico di Angelo, who walked over to her with his hands in the pockets of his aviator jacket, which was still too big for him.

“I'm going to sleep, Nico.” She explained, continuing her way to Cabin 3. “It was a day full of emotions, I'm tired.”

Nico nodded, walking beside her. Y/n always found it fun to be the same size as Nico, but now she realized that he was a few inches taller than she was.

“Are you okay?” she asked, bringing up the subject.

“I think so.” Nico replied, looking surprised by his own conclusion. “Maybe things get better for me from now on.”

“I'm sure it will.” Y/n opened an encouraging smile. Because he was the son of Hades, Nico suffered more than all the other demigods, which worried the girl. She hadn't seen him since the war of the Titans, but she talked to Percy during her mission and discovered things she didn't want to discover.

She looked at Nico. For the first time in his life, his face looked serene, as if his problems were gone. Y/n realized that it would be better not to go into details about the problems he went through. She did not want to end his joy.

“Di Angelo!” someone called, running up to them. Y/n turned to find Will Solace smiling like a ray of sunshine. “Hi Y/n!”

“Will.” She smiled. When looking at Nico, she noticed a pink tint on his cheeks and held her laugh. “Can you take care of Nico for me? I need to go to sleep but he doesn't want to leave.”

Will smiled, realizing what she meant. Nico looked at her with anger and indignation, but he didn't seem against the idea.

“Certainly.” The blonde took a step forward. “Have a good night!”

“You too.” She raised an eyebrow at Nico and walked back to her cabin.

She was still smiling when she passed Hecate's cabin, which looked darker than ever. Her smile wilted. She had always been a little afraid of the goddess's children since she found herself a half-blood and moved to camp. But that night, something seemed comforting in the hideous darkness of the cabin. Unable to contain the impulse that occurred to her, Y/n went up on the porch and went through the open door. None of the goddess's children were there, they were probably still at the stake celebrating, they always loved a good party.

Y/n didn't know exactly what she expected to find inside, but she certainly wasn't ready for what she saw. She had never entered the cabin since she had never been invited and it didn't feel right to enter without an invitation like she did now. But what she found was an absolute void. No bunk beds, bathroom, closet or chest. Nothing for the basic comfort of teenagers. All that was inside was a torch on the floor with a brown leather-bound notebook beside it.

“Take it” A whisper said, and Y/n knelt down to better analyze the notebook.

“Who...?” She started the question, but knew at the time that she had no need to finish it. Hecate was there. “Are you hiding in the shadows?”

There was a harsh laugh, but Y/n couldn't tell where it came from. It was as if the goddess moved in every particle of air around her.

“I heard that Poseidon's children were mocking, but seeing that feat face to face is much more fun. Ares definitely didn't say enough about it.”

“I don't think he has any reason to boast about it.” She commented, but her body was tense. Something about the goddess made her feel that bad things would happen any second.

“Take the notebook.” She asked, seeming to feel the girl's tension. “Take it and bring my girl back.”

“What does that mean?” Y/n asked, but never got an answer.

After several minutes, she finally let herself be overcome by curiosity, put the notebook under her arm and ran out of the cabin.

Y/n spent a few days without touching the notebook, which was comfortably resting on the small table in her cabin. Percy asked several times what the notebook was and why Y/n didn't move it, but the girl always answered the same thing. "It's just a silly notebook." She was afraid to open it and end up triggering something she couldn't control.

Percy and the others had just returned from a massacre battle with irreparable losses, she didn't want to leave anyone alarmed by something as stupid as a leather notebook.

Y/n tried to distract herself. She would swim in the lake, duel with Percy in the arena, ask Tyson to teach her something in the forges, help Chiron with pending camp, talk about the biggest zucchinis with Rachel, encourage Annabeth to talk nonstop about architecture, sometimes make her repeat everything he had said in Greek, but nothing seemed to get her thoughts out of the notebook. Instead of being distracted, she got some scars from the duels, burns from the forges and throbbing ears, but nothing erased the notebook.

Tired of trying, Y/n returned to the cabin and spent several minutes looking at the problem. She would get up a few times, making a move to pick it up, but soon she would go back to sitting on bed. When she finally thought she would be brave enough to end the trip, someone knocked on the door.

Changing her course, Y/n opened the door to the blond, smug figure.

Y/n and Apollo had spent a lot of time together a few months before, not that any of them had a chance to do the opposite. He had helped her save the Camp when everyone seemed too busy saving the world. Now she was no longer able to get rid of the sun god, who suddenly appeared in her cabin. At least now he had learned to knock on the door before entering.

“Good afternoon, beautiful lady.” He smiled, breaking into the cottage before Y/n had a chance to expel him. “What do you do locked in that cabin?”

“Apollo, seriously, now is not the best time.”

“Every hour is the best time for Apollo!” He smiled at her and Y/n found herself unable to say no to him. The god had that effect on her, but she couldn't explain why. She just went back to bed and sighed.

“What happened, Sunshine?” he asked, now more serious.

Y/n pointed to the notebook, like a child pointing out the bully who was mistreating her. Pausing to think, it was almost the same.

Apollo's gaze followed Y/n 's finger until it stopped at the Hecate symbol on the cover of the notebook, and he froze.

“What's it?”

“That notebook.” He got up and picked up it, playing with it in his hands. “I saw Hecate with another of his once many years ago. I asked her what they were, but she cast a spell on me that prevented me from speaking for two months. Where did you find it?”

“I found him at her cabin.” The girl admitted, unable to lie to the closest friend she had at the camp until that moment. “I heard Hecate ask me to take him away. I didn't understand what she expects me to do.”

“Write.” He suggested, after long minutes of silence.

“I’m sorry?” Y/n looked at him, confused. “What if something bad happens, Apollo? I don't know if I want to find out.”

The god smiled gently, taking the book to the girl and handing it over, along with a blue ballpoint pen. Y/n hesitated for a few seconds before picking up the pen and opening the notebook. But she didn't do much more than that, as the words “Owned by G. J. W.” they magically appeared on the first leaf, in a strange black ink.

Y/n looked at Apollo for help, but he just shrugged and encouraged her to write something below. "G. J. W.? This notebook is mine, and my name has none of those letters!”

Before she had a chance to tell Apollo how ridiculous it was, the notebook replied.

G: "Who are you?"

Y: “Y/n Y/l/n, are you?”

G: "Gale Wright"

Y: “How the hell am I talking to you through my notebook? Where you are from?"

G: “England. I'm a student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, how about you? What school of magic do you belong to? ”

Y: "I'm not going to any magic school, I'm from New York, there's no such thing here!"

G: "I thought the United States school of magic was Ilvermorny"

Y: "I am not a witch!"

G: "Oh by Merlin, are you a muggle?"

Y: "Look, I may not be a witch but you don't have to curse me!"

G: “Muggle is a term for non-wizards ... But if you are not a witch, how can you talk to me? This notebook is bewitched, only those who have contact with magic could see it ”

Y: "I didn't know that the notebook was enchanted until now ... I didn't even know about the existence of a school of magic, wizards, yes, now schools? No, things are very different here"

G: "Different how?"

Y: "I am a camper at Camp Half-Blood"

G: "And what would that be?"

Y: "Well, a camp for demigods, of course!"

Y/n waited, but nothing else happened. She looked up at Apollo, who looked as upset as she was.

“School of Magic and Witchcraft of... Hogwarts?” She asked, hoping that Apollo would say something to her.

“I've heard of that school. Hecate loves to talk about how she has an entire chain of schools that teach children to do what she does. She is very proud of it.” He explained, taking the notebook from Y/n and examining the last conversation. “I just didn't think it was real at all. All the gods think it's Hecate's invention, but no one has ever tried to prove it.”

“Well, I think we just did that.” Y/n joked, but was far from feeling the fun of the situation, because, there in front of her, there was a problem. Perhaps a much bigger problem than she imagined.

#harry potter #percy jackson #fanfic #apollo x reader #harry potter imagine #percy jackson imagine #apollo #nico di angelo #will solace #tyson the cyclops #camp half blood #hogwarts

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reddiamondgamer · 3 years

Text

A Wrightworth Fic

(First proper Wrightworth fic that won't be just a one off drabble!)

A03 Next

_________________

If Phoenix had known getting hit by a car would speed up the reunion he'd been planning for months, he would've done it sooner. He was lucky that he hadn’t actually been hurt all that badly, only suffering a few scrapes and bruises, but it was enough to worry both his friends, Larry and Miles, who he’d been keeping in contact with ever since he left and finally met again.

Larry still somehow looked the same as he remembered, with the exception of the currently scraggly beard thing growing from his chin. His hair still resembled an angry cockatoo, his eyes still somehow glowed with the same happiness they always had, and his voice was still mildly shrieky when he got excited. Phoenix supposed it was good that no matter what happened in the world, Larry was still Larry, it was like a universal constant.

Miles, on the other hand, was most definitely not the same as he remembered. Yes, he still seemed to struggle a lot with emotions and was irritated by certain things the same way he was, but he’d grown, a lot more than he was expecting. He was dressed in a flashy mauve suit with a weird neck ruffle and a blue and gold waistcoat thing, if he remembered correctly. He wasn’t sure of any of the proper names of any of the fancy things Miles wore now, but he was sure that he’d become really really attractive, having to remind himself that he had a girlfriend.

“I don’t think he’s all here right now, man.” Larry spoke, pulling Phoenix out of his thoughts and startling him slightly. Right, Larry and Miles had been trying to make sure he didn’t have a concussion after getting hit.

“Uh, what were you guys saying?” Phoenix asked with a sheepish smile, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“We were saying, Wright, that we should take you to the hospital to make sure you have not lost your mind completely. Now, tell me if you are capable of remembering the basics, such as your name.” Miles explained and whoa, did he have a bit of an accent now? He must’ve picked it up while they were apart, noting that it definitely sounded like it was from Europe or something.

“You shouldn’t really tell someone their name then ask if they remember their name.” Phoenix argued, letting out a small laugh.

Miles’s eyes suddenly had a confident glint to them as he waggled his finger, winked, then blew out air, something clearly clicking in his mind. His actions shocked Phoenix and his cheeks felt slightly warmer for some reason, having never expected to see Miles do that.

“Ah, but I didn’t mention your first name, Wright, my request is still valid.”

“Phoenix, my name is Phoenix Wright and you, Miles Edgeworth, have too much confidence over something so technical.” He responded with what was meant to be a sigh, but turned into a laugh as he got up off the ground where he’d been sitting the whole time. He felt a slight dampness over the back of his pants thanks to the dewy grass, finally taking in his surroundings properly.

He was in a small field beside a busy road, right next to his college. There was a bit of trash crushed over the curb and a small dandelion blooming out of a broken cup, making him smile a bit. He took a picture of the sight so he’d remember to draw something similar later.

“Nicky’s back up and running! Now we can continue our fun day with Edgy!” Larry announced, his slight shriek to his voice making him and Miles both cringe.

“I must ask that you refrain from referring to me as “Edgy”, I have an actual name as you should know.”

“He’s got a point, Larry,” Phoenix started, watching as Larry’s face fell before continuing with, “let’s just have an awesome day with Miley.”

Larry’s face lit up once again while Miles made an expression that was somewhere between disgusted and shocked, bringing out a laugh from Phoenix. He grabbed Miles's hand, not noticing the faint blush that spread over Miles’s cheeks after or the way a golden string glowed around their joined hands as he led Miles to the place they’d decided to go first.

“What happened to the person that hit me? I didn’t see them or the car when I woke up.”

“I have,” Miles paused for some reason, like he was trying to figure something out in his head, “an acquaintance that is a detective, he is adequate at coming to my aid.”

"You've got a detective friend that's good at helping you out?" Phoenix held back his laughter, knowing Miles didn't like admitting some things so easily.

He watched as Miles grumbled and looked away, finally letting out a snort while Larry cackled. He felt a smile stretch across his face, his friends always making him feel like the world was perfect. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his day, giving Miles’s hand a firm squeeze.

The walk to the arcade wasn’t very long, but it definitely had Larry breathless and ready to abandon the whole trip even though it’d been his idea. The cockatoo-haired man was dramatically laying on the concrete in front of the arcade building, which was called Patrick Cipant’s Arcade. Taking a closer look at the papers hung on the door, Phoenix could see that the arcade was hiring extra help for an upcoming gaming event that he knew he’d never understand, remembering that Larry, despite how he acted, was better with technology than him.

“Go on without me, I can’t make it!” Larry whined, his face red and shiny somehow. It wasn’t even that hot today since it was the middle of spring, there was even still a slight wind chill.

“Butz-” Miles started, but was interrupted by the snickering of a few passing children.

“Larry, get up, you’re literally five feet from the entrance.” Phoenix pointed at the door with an unamused expression.

Miles looked annoyed, but Phoenix could tell he wasn’t completely annoyed, noticing a small sparkle of amusement in his eyes, which Phoenix noted he had a marker in the exact same pretty shade of grey.

Phoenix froze when he realized he’d basically just called Mile’s pretty, shaking his head to get rid of that thought. He knew it wasn’t normal to think of a friend like that and he had a girlfriend that he thought was beautiful.

Apparently, Miles had noticed how he froze, feeling him pull his hand out of his grip and move it to his shoulder with a small squeeze following.

“Wright, are you also dreadfully exhausted and lacking any energy just like Butz here?”

“Uh, no, just had a really stupid train of thought, don’t worry about it.”

Phoenix looked at Miles then quickly tore his eyes away, wanting to just get rid of any and all thoughts about his best friend. He pushed Mile’s hand off his shoulder and headed inside the arcade, thinking he could distract himself by playing that new zombie VR game Larry had been raving about. He mentally swore that he wouldn’t let anything else come up from these weird thoughts and feelings, happy with where he was now in life.

#wrightworth #narumitsu #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #ace attorney au

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ghostinthewalls · 3 years

Note

Hi bestie! I'm bored so can I have a creepypasta match-up please? Also sorry if this is really long.

So I'm a straight girl and I use she/her pronouns. Im a Leo and a ENTP. I'm 5'4 almost 5'5 I'm very pale and skinny, and I have freckles everywhere, especially on my face. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my mid back its kinda fluffy and it gets tangled pretty easily, I also have brown eyes.

My personality can be very strange when you first see me people say I have a resting bitch face and I look intimidating but when you actaully start to talk to me I can be very friendly and goofy! Almost everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcastic. I can be very stubborn, feisty and competitive when I want to be but I like to help people and I'll always listen to someone if they need it. Myself on the other hand hates to talk about my feelings and I'm very closed off, I don't tell anybody my problems and I try to ignore them until I explode basically.

The only way you can really describe me is as the idiot/sarcastic asshole in a friend group.

My style consists of flannels LOTS of flannels, oversized sweatshirts, ripped skinny jeans, tank tops, and band t-shirts. I also love wearing combat boots and converses.

You already know I love 90s and 80s (I personally think 90's is the best) but basically anything under the rock n roll genre I love. My favortie bands are Red Hot Chili Peppers, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden etc. I also like swimming and I was on a swim team for about 9 years and I've received many trophies, medals, ribbons etc. And I have a ton of weird stories from all those years of swimming.

Hey babes sorry for the wait,,,, HERE YOU GO!

I match you with🥁🥁..........

TIM WRIGHT/MASKY!!!

I headcanon Tim as an INFP. I did a lot of research and I read that ENTPs and INFPs go great together! (I'm also an ENTP btw)

Tim is 5'7, so he isn't that much taller than you. But he's tall enough to were he can kiss your forehead, and it's like his favorite thing to do

OMGGG FWECKLES HE LOVES THEM SO MUCHH

Hes a mega simp for them, like no joke

I think I've said this before, but Tim himself has some on his arms, inner thighs, neck, and chest

He loves your hair he thinks it's so pretty🥺🥺

He will absolutely buy you so many hair accessories. Barrette's, bobby pins, hair ties- literally anything you want

He'll even ask to braid your hair! Granted he doesn't know how to but,,,,HE WILL LEARN so please let himm

Brown eyes are so pretty like-

He sings you this song all the time

Says it's "our song"

Tim has the same personality

When people first meet him/talk to him. He is very sarcastic and has a very stoic expression. But after they get to know him he cracks dad jokes left and right

Tim is the definition of stubborn. Try to get him to go to bed at a reasonable time. Go on, try it

He thinks it's so cute that you're feisty, he says you remind him of a chihuahua

He DEFINETLY needs someone to talk to about all his problems

bb boy has so many pent up emotions, that as soon as he starts to open up to you, the dam just breaks

Just hold him and tell him you love him. It's all he wants to hear

He totally understands not wanting to talk about your problems, but he doesn't mind listening to yours

He won't force you to open up, but he lets you know that he's always there for you

He's the dad of the friend group-

You guys wear the exact same thing

He will so give you his clothes, just ask

Twinsiessss

He loves seeing you in his shirts, he doesn't know why; he just does

Tim has a dad bod so all his shirts will be kinda baggy on you

It's so cool that you have the same music taste as him. It just makes him love you even more<3

Will give you all his old CD's from when he was a teenager

I can just imagine him doin the little thumb taps on the steering wheel

This man can't swim to save his life, He just never learned how

He totally asks for you to teach him; and to tell him the stories-

This one's really long wow,,, I hope you like it, it was really fun to write!!

#tim wright x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #tim wright #masky x reader #this took me way too long to make #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #sorry i didnt finish this sooner

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Three Strikes [you're out]

It was his fault, really.

Wearing that jersey at Citi Field practically required Nina to hate the mass of muscle sitting in front of her on sight. Plus, he didn't know how to score a baseball game. So, honestly, it made sense. To hate him. Ardently, even. To push buttons, metaphorical or otherwise. A game within the game.

And, if, she found herself having fun, well, that was neither here nor there.

———

Rating: T, with sports and kissing because of who I am as a person Word Count: 9.1 K, also because of who I am as a person AN: I don’t know, guys. I got thoughts. I got feelings. The only way I know how deal with either of those things is to write about them with sports and kissing. Did I suggest that being a Mets fan was a bit like being Grisha? Perhaps! Perhaps, I did! If this is out of character just...don’t tell me.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

———

The suggestion that an idea was capable of boiling a person’s blood, even in the most abstract and metaphorical sense, had always appealed to Nina. Not in a particularly violent way, of course. More in regards to the visual.

Conjured up all sorts of possibilities.

Little bubbles beneath her skin, searing emotion through her veins that inevitably led to tufts of smoke pouring out of her ears. Like one of those old cartoon characters, she could now only dimly remember. In moments like this, especially. When she wasn’t quite boiling, but certainly racing toward the vast and admittedly surprising precipice of abject hatred. Directed almost solely toward the mass of muscle who dared to wear a Chase Utley jersey to Citi Field on a Thursday in May.

He needed a haircut, she thought.

The muscle. Not Chase Utley. She couldn’t possibly care less about the state of Chase Utley’s hair. Unless he was choking on it, somewhere. Obviously. Then Nina cared very much. About Chase Utley. And this guy. With too-long strands that she was starting to believe fell almost artfully across the back of a vaguely golden-skinned neck, as if they existed solely to torment her.

On a Thursday in May.

Sitting there, with a seat digging into the middle of her spine and her frustration threatening the enamel on the back of her teeth, Nina was loath to admit, even to herself, that she couldn’t stop staring at him. Partially because of the hair. Which looked very—pushable, really. As far as her finger’s potential went. But mostly because of everything else. Watching the muscle was a bit like watching a statue at the Met, waiting with bated breath for it to actually surge to life because when she was that same kid who watched cartoons on weekend mornings, she rather strongly believed that the statues at the Met were wholly capable of smiling and turning and living. Artwork prone to the mystical and potentially magical.

She blamed Ben Stiller for that, honestly.

Amy Adams to a slightly lesser degree.

Robin Williams would suffer no criticism in this argument, naturally.

The muscle shifted.

Twitched just a hint in his seat. Altered the angle of his, frankly, impressively wide shoulders. Rolled his neck between them. The seat was too small. He was too big. That jersey must have been ancient.

And, really, when it came down to it, Nina hated him most for the pencil. Tucked behind his right ear, it looked comically small whenever he pulled it between his fingers, scratching across a legitimate scorebook because in the thirty-seven minutes or so she’d spent observing this fascinating specimen of humanity, she’d noticed it was, in fact, a scorebook.

Not a piece of paper.

Not a printout.

Not even the one she was only vaguely confident they handed out in the rotunda downstairs.

An actual scorebook.

That he brought with him to Citi Field.

She glanced down to make sure she had not actually burst into literal flames in section 205. Row F. Seat 27. No such luck. Weird.

The pencil was back in his hand. One leg crossed the other, leaving his knee propped in the air, and there was just so much of the muscle that it was a rather small miracle of an exceptionally narrow field of science that it didn’t collide with anyone around him. Instead, it provided a built-in desk, that stupid scorebook propped up against jean-covered skin and even more muscles, pushing against fabric like they were personally offended by the concept of the blue-colored prison.

Nina bit her lip.

Tried to keep breathing. Because fires required oxygen, and there could be no boiling without fire and—

“‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, just trying to—” Blood flooded Nina’s mouth, making it impossible for her to open that same mouth and let out the laugh already pushing against her lips. There were at least four little wrinkles pinched across the small expanse of Jesper’s nose, two boxes of popcorn clutched in either one of his hands and a soda between the slight bend of his elbow. He tiptoed his way around disgruntled fans, glaring at a few red jerseys for good measure. As if he actually wanted to be there. Nina kept biting her lip. “Just trying to get back to my seat,” Jesper finished, “won’t bother you again, rest of the game, absolutely, one-hundred percent guaranteed.”

Nina’s lips tilted up.

Scrambling to her feet, she couldn’t quite balance on the edge of the seat that immediately swung back up. Something sticky stuck to the bottom of her shoe and eventually, she would find herself wondering why she didn’t simply move into Jesper’s seat. For a myriad of reasons, she assumed.

Some of which might have mystical and potentially.

Goddamn, Ben Stiller.

“Accommodating sort of group, isn’t it?” Jesper mumbled, pushing past her and Nina had to applaud his dexterity. Not a kernel lost in the battle.

“Should have waited ‘til the middle of the inning. This is just bad form on your part.” “And miss all—” He waved an imperious hand toward the field. “What am I missing, exactly?”

Opening her mouth, Nina was certain she’d come up with a reasonable explanation for the romantic nature of baseball, only she was a little busy. Keeping her head connected to the rest of her body.

Snapping to the left, her breath caught. In that dramatic sort of way that always seemed like the perfect soundtrack to any great sporting moment. Eyes wide and fingers digging into her palm, hope mixed with the bubbles and the boils, and she barely noticed the awkward angle of her bent knees. Or just how close she was to—

Him.

The muscle.

She heard his pencil drop, she swore.

Oh, Gods, but he had blue eyes. Sharp and staring right at her, Nina resisted the very real urge to let herself melt right there. In section 205. Row F. Seat 27. Well, in front of seat 27, technically.

Pulling her knee back did not do that same knee any favors, muscles almost audibly objecting to the force of Nina’s split-second reaction, but then she forgot about the pain and the concept of depth perception. The yell tore itself out of her lungs, found its way to the rest of the noise circling the stadium, wrapping its way around people until the hope of that one, singular moment settled on the tips of her eyelashes and the backs of her heels and she wasn’t sure if she heard him at first.

No one should be capable of possessing a voice quite so gruff, that’s why.

“Not going to make it.”

Glaring at the monstrous mass of muscle and questionably good hair wasn’t so much as a decision as something far closer to instinct, pulling her brows together and letting her tongue push at the bottom of her teeth, and he—

Looked. Right at her. And her tongue.

Shoulders tensing, a hint of nervous energy appeared in those same ridiculously blue eyes, gone almost before Nina had a chance to realize it was there at all and she didn’t see the play. Heard it, though. The groans and the grunts, complete despair, and the first shreds of desolation drowning out the hope and pulling it from a grip that was always a little tenuous.

No home run. No hit. Just a run-of-the-mill fly ball in center field.

One side of the muscle’s mouth tugged up.

“Told you.” “Oh, fuck off.”

Surprise, she thought, was a very good look on him. Most of them would be, she imagined. But right then, on a Thursday in May, with two outs in the bottom of the fourth, Nina relished the surprise.

And sat back down.

To be a Mets fan, was to believe in the impossible.

The amazing, even.

It was right there in the slogans. The advertising campaigns. On a variety of shirts, both legitimate and those sold at the bottom of the 7-train stairs. To accept the amazing, to wish for it, even, was part and parcel of the history of an organization that relished its underdog status. Thrived in its role, the second team in a city that toed the line between excess and restraint.

Winning with this team was unexpected and unpredictable. Came without much pomp. Certainly no circumstance. Only a few trades that drew national eyes and back page headlines. More often than not, this was a team that discovered amazing when it simply should not exist.

Misfits who created something wonderful. Who sparked something among people who, at least for nine innings, believed orange was a worthwhile color to wear. Who smiled at a mascot with a massive baseball for a head. And his wife, who sported some rather impressive eyelashes, actually.

To be a Mets fan, was to understand heartache.

To accept being the butt of jokes across decades.

Every year, the knowing smiles came. Paying goddamn Bobby Bonilla. Cracks about pyramid schemes and owners who couldn’t find their way out of a money-based paper bag, team antics that occasionally drew those headlines, and players who fell in wayward ditches on their farms, ending their season before it ever really began.

Winning didn’t come often, but it was loud when it did. The crack of a bat and a ball finding the back of a glove, shoulders slamming into the left-field wall with its massive M&Ms ad. Feedback from a microphone as David Wright thanked the Seven Line Army, in all their orange-clad glory, memories of that near-perfect October and what could have been imprinting themselves across a generation.

To be a Mets fan, was to live and die with each pitch. Each hit. To hold your breath and wait for magic that lingered beneath skin and forced its way into bloodstreams.

To be a Mets fan, was to hate anyone wearing a Chase Utley jersey.

“Stew, stew, stewing, a rather hearty beef stew.” Nina narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “You are stewing,” Jesper said pointedly, as if it was an obvious affliction and they both hadn’t casually descended into madness caused by extra innings. Putting a runner on second was supposed to help avoid all of this. Runs were meant to be scored in extra innings. Nothing had happened yet. “Any more and that little divot between your eyebrows is never going to disappear. Then what will we do?” Answering would only acknowledge that the divot was more like a rather obvious ravine now, and the little half-moon circles left by her nails were going to be permanently etched into Nina’s palm.

He was still keeping score.

How he hadn’t run out of columns in his scorebook was beyond her, but Nina figured if the muscle was someone willing to purchase a scorebook, he probably made sure it was one that also included, like, fifteen innings on each page.

If they made it to the fifteenth inning, she would cry.

It would be embarrassing.

Jesper probably wouldn’t come back for the rest of the series. If she cried, that was. And she needed him to come back for the rest of the series. Sitting anywhere else wasn’t all that appealing, even if it might have been warmer up there now.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Better to stew with, that way.

“Do games normally last this long?”

Nina shook her head.

Jesper groaned. Loudly, complete with his head thrown back for extra emphasis and even clearer frustration and she didn’t think she imagined the way the muscle tensed. Staring at him was becoming something of a pastime in the middle of a more acceptable one. Light didn’t quite reflect from the hair she was starting to become just a hint obsessed with, but it certainly appeared determined to try, and his ability to hold so much tension in the region directly surrounding his jaw would have been impressive in any other circumstance.

As it was, Nina was a little concerned about the state of the muscle’s back molars.

It was why she didn’t react as quickly as she should have. Or so she would argue for the rest of time.

Once she got the popcorn off her feet.

A waterfall of butter-coasted kernels landed on her shoes, a few bouncing as she did, thrust out of her seat like a canon. Whatever bit of her heart that existed solely to document the ebbs and flows of the New York Mets success flew into her throat, where it immediately took up residence directly in the middle. Wide eyes immediately started to water, which brought her straight back to the entirely metaphorical cliff of her potential embarrassment and the muscle was leaning forward.

With his own brand of emotion.

No obvious tension, just that steady sort of hope born among the din of baseball-type sounds and, even more importantly, baseball-type feelings and Nina was mumbling.

“Turn ‘em, turn ‘em, turn ‘em, two, two, two, two, get the—” Suggesting she screamed made it seem as if she weren’t in complete control of her faculties. And despite the potential of extra innings insanity, Nina was just as lucid as ever and just as capable of throwing her hands in the air, while also screaming.

Undeniably so.

As soon as the ball jumped over the outstretched glove at short, Francisco Lindor’s lanky and overpaid body stretched out across the infield grass. Curses flowed from Nina’s mouth, some of them sharp enough to make even Jesper choke on whatever bits of oxygen he was able to gulp down, and she didn’t stop. Kept screaming and shouting, increasingly mobile hands and dexterous shoulders, miming her own throw home because whoever was playing left field was not moving quickly enough for her.

He didn’t make the throw.

Not in time, at least.

Dirt flew into the air as a leg stretched over home plate and the umpire’s arms were nearly as impressive as Nina’s. Marking the runner safe and giving the Phillies their first and only lead of the night.

Frustration mingled with out-of-place despair, far too early in the series and the season to be feeling quite as desolate as Nina suddenly was and, really, she wasn’t sure why she looked. Something about magnets, or simple curiosity, but her eyes drifted and her head tilted and she felt her jaw drop as his stupid, little pencil scratched out E6 in his scorebook.

“What the hell, man?”

He didn’t turn. Figured. Screaming was becoming her base setting, so Nina wasn’t entirely surprised that the muscle didn’t acknowledge it, but then she was moving and leaning and tapping on a shoulder that somehow seemed sturdier when she had kneed it several innings earlier.

“That’s not an error.” Moving in slow motion only made sense if the man was, in fact, a piece of marble. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, acting as little paths toward his eyes and they were still blue. Good, that was good. Bad, that was bad.

Jesper wasn’t even trying to contain his laughter.

“Excuse me?” “Not an error,” Nina repeated, careful to pause between each word for emphasis. The muscle didn’t flinch. Stared at her incredulously, though. “Did you not see that hop?” “I saw your multi-million dollar man throw his arm out without much regard to actually making a routine play. Is that what you’re talking about?” “How is that possibly an error?” He lifted a shoulder. She was boiling over. “Should have made the play.” “It was impossible!" “C’mon now,” he chuckled, and the good fought with the bad. A symphony of contradictions blaring between Nina’s ears. Neither of which were steaming, it seemed. “Nothing is impossible in baseball.” “That was!” “Might need to come up with a better argument.” “Home scorer is not going to give Francisco an error on that. He had to dive!” “Maybe he should have been in better position, to begin with.” “The shift was on.” “Well, the shift is ruining baseball, so—” Nina gagged. Let her tongue push between rows of teeth that she couldn’t believe were going to survive the rest of the night if the acid churning in her esophagus was any indication. He looked. Again. Whatever heat lapping at the base of her spine was only marginally distracting. “A baseball purist cannot possibly wear the jersey you are wearing.” “I wasn’t aware of the rules, but, please, go on.” “Fuck. Off.” “Getting less and less creative.” His eyes hadn’t moved. As if he was documenting each twitch of her lips for his own personal posterity. Nina found she didn’t mind the idea as much as she should.

Jesper was going to crack a rib.

“Chase Utley is an asshole who doesn’t know how to slide.” “Ok.” “An asshole!” “I heard you the first time,” he said, losing the war with his lips. Curled up, they cut across the serious mask his face had become in the world’s least serious conversation. It was nice that Jesper ended up crying before Nina, honestly. “And he wasn’t a Phil when he hurt your guy, so I don’t think that should count at all.” Nina did not know what noise she made. Wasn’t human. Hurt a little. “Did you just call him a Phil?” “Guys,” Jesper mumbled, but she couldn’t be bothered with something as menial as the bottom of the inning when the muscle in front of her kept doing that thing with his eyes and his hair and—

Reaching out, she managed to bypass his rather impressive reaction time, grabbing the pencil before he could stop her and the crack of it between her fingers was as loud as any grand slam this slightly ugly ballpark had ever witnessed.

Not that Nina would ever admit she thought Citi Field was slightly to moderately ugly.

It was the color scheme. Way too much green involved.

She gave herself exactly seven seconds to relish the look of pure amazement on the muscle’s face.

“Use a pen,” Nina sneered, “at least stand by your scoring convictions.” “Chase Utley is going to be in the Hall of Fame.” “As a Phil?” “World Series champion.”

His ability to emphasize words with meaningful pauses was far better than Nina’s. “It wasn’t an error.” “You’re paying that guy more than anyone in the world deserves to get paid, if he’s going to lay out for a liner, then he should be able to make the play, don’t you think?” Nina bit her lip. Boiled. Stewed.

Ah, damn.

Her silence was an answer in the middle of a sea made up of equally disheartened fans. Who all suddenly remembered how terrible they looked in orange. Always worse after a loss.

The muscle nodded. Once. Exhaled. Through his nose. As if he’d won, and not just his team, and Nina didn’t offer to replace his pencil.

On a Friday night in May, Nina genuinely believed that he wouldn’t come back. Hoped for it, even. And something else almost akin to the exact opposite.

Both were very strange feelings to feel contained in one human, body. Draped, even as it was, in blue and orange and New York City’s less famous pinstripes. With PIAZZA splashed across her back, Nina felt as if she were obligated to sit a little straighter. As if slumping in her seat — by herself tonight because Genya was not at all interested in sitting in the stands and Zoya would have laughed at the suggestion, and Jesper had to get back to the Crow Club — would somehow tarnish the reputation of a name that didn’t belong to her.

Didn’t it, though? Just a little. Wasn’t that how sports worked? Throwing yourself into the camaraderie with both feet and occasionally flailing arms, willing to sit in an uncomfortable seat that she’d have to mention to Nikolai at some point because these were starting to feel a bit like torture devices masquerading as plastic, and a piece of paper floated onto her lap.

He’d folded the piece of paper.

The muscle. Not Nikolai. Who was sitting in the owner’s box, in fact. Nina assumed those seats weren’t rising up in revolt against him.

The muscle wasn’t wearing a jersey this time. A cup of what smelled like over-brewed coffee, though, was held tightly in his left hand, while the right clutched his scorebook as if it were made of gold. Nina’s tongue swiped her teeth.

He watched.

Documented.

Kept track.

“What the hell is this?” “Is that your favorite curse, you think?” “Why are you throwing paper airplanes at me?” Lifting shoulders appeared to be his default form of response. “Felt just quirky enough not to be overtly threatening.” “Because of the guns generally associated with fighter planes?” “What do you know about fighter planes?” Rolling her whole head did not get her a smile. Or even a hint of such a thing. It did get him a few grumblings of frustration from those whose view he was blocking. Because there was so goddamn much of him. Imposing, that was the word for it. Taking up space and settling into the seat with a near amazing amount of grace, practically folding in on himself, like he was made of smooth lines and crisp edges, capable of soaring through air in a way that belied that flimsy nature of paper airplanes, and there was that word again.

“Always liked the ones that had painted teeth on them,” Nina said, somehow fully prepared for the huff of laughter that fell out of him. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket.

To hand to her.

“You would.” “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” “It means,” he said, nodding at the pen when she kept gaping at it, “that in my limited experience with you, Ms. Met—”

“Thought we covered lack of creativity last night.” He ignored her. Eventually, it might be a good idea to learn his name. Where that might also be the worst idea in the history of the world. Maybe Nikolai could track him down. Like through ticket sales, or something. That seemed like a breach of power, though.

“You do have a rather impressive set of teeth on you, yourself.” “Oh, that’s an insult.” “Should unfold the paper airplane.” Most of her wanted to crumple up the piece of the paper, toss it back in his face and then possibly stab him with his own pen. But Nina also didn’t know the muscle’s name, and cold-blooded murder on a Friday night in May required a certain sense of personalization that they hadn’t quite reached yet. So, there was no crumpling. Her fingers didn’t shake. Her heartbeat held steady in her chest.

Unfolding the paper with his eyes on her, Nina did hold her breath. For eight straight seconds, approximately. Until it all rushed out of her, entirely amazed and perpetually annoyed because the paper airplane left creases between the boxes of what was very clearly her own personal scoresheet.

With provided pen.

“This is a trick.” “That not being a question gives me pause,” he said, but it sounded like an admission. One tinged with regret. Presumably for Chase Utley’s tendency to be a complete and utter asshole. Prone to injuring Mets’ middle infielders.

“Is it not?” He shook his head. And the pen in his hand. “Get to stand by the convictions of your scoring actions.” “Errors occur only on routine plays.” “Yuh-huh.” “You’re here by yourself.” “Also not a question.”

“Or an answer,” Nina pointed out.

“Where’d your friend go?” “What do you put in your coffee?” “Nothing,” he answered, “seriously, where’s the friend?” Something lingered on the edge of the question. Something Nina didn’t want to notice, but couldn’t possibly ignore. Not when it came with concave shoulders, curling toward her like they were preparing themselves to block wind and glares in equal measure. The second of which was really a more pressing problem at the moment.

“Had to work.” “As a stand-up comedian?” “Hardy har har,” Nina grumbled. Leaning back against the force of his ensuing smile was as natural as wearing a Mike Piazza jersey and searching for the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. What she was less prepared for was the ability of that same smile to twist its way between her ribs, lighting another new and imaginary fire and if her mouth dried just a bit, then that was neither here nor there.

Between her and the baseball gods, fickle as they were.

“You don’t put anything in your coffee?” He shook his head. “Sugar makes me nauseous.” “God, what a depressing way to live life.” “Eh, there are things that make up for it.” “Chase Utley?” “I think you might be obsessed,” he said, dropping into his seat so as to avoid being pelted with cheese fries from Shake Shack. The guy three seats away looked real serious. “Going to write him a letter asking for a game of catch?” “You’re making pop culture references.” “Not a question, either.” “No, a stunned statement of fact.” She wanted that laugh on loop. Wanted it to play as the soundtrack for the rest of the night and the rest of the series and quite possibly the rest of her life, lingering softly in the background of everything she did for the rest of forever.

Matching in perfect rhythm to the predisposed nature of her blood to boil.

“Where are all your friends, then?” Nina asked, almost desperate to change the direction of the conversation and her internal dialogue. The blue evolved. Right there in his eyes. Darkened until it looked like the sky before a storm and that was ten-thousand times worse than any other drivel she’d come up with so far.

Licking her lips was idiotic. Naturally, that’s what she did.

“Not here,” he replied, “but I know the hitting coach.” Strictly speaking, that should not have been quite as awe-inducing as it was. Nina hadn’t paid for her tickets, after all. Had no intention of paying for tickets ever again, if she was being honest. So, really, seeing how caution swept the muscle’s face was kind of a dick move.

On her part, specifically.

“Should I be impressed?” Shoulder lift, right on cue. “I knew him in college. Was, uh—” “—Wait, did you play baseball?” Color didn’t rise on his cheeks. Not in any romantic way. Nothing about it was swepping, which was good because the Phillies had won the night before, meaning any sweeping would also guarantee Mets losses. It arrived in splotches. Bits of pink and nearly-red, tiny pinpricks of unregulated emotion that immediately affected the ability of Nina’s pulse to stay even.

She grinned.

Wide and honest, ignoring the strands of hair that fell in her eyes when she let her head fall.

He didn’t look away.

She’d think that was important, later.

“You contain multitudes, Muscle.” “Insulting,” he grumbled. “Quite possibly the tallest man I’ve ever encountered in the flesh.” “That can’t possibly be true.” “You don’t look like a baseball player.” Back to the correct shade of blue. Just for a moment. Disappearing in the haze of a 90 mile per hour fastball. Right up the middle. But Nina had always been fairly good at tracking pitches, and she might not have been a former baseball player, but picking out the slider amongst a never-ending stream of heaters was like her personal superpower.

“So I’ve heard.” “From scouts?” “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Of the professional variety?” “Every now and then.”

Letting out a low whistle, Nina’s spine relaxed. Tension that had taken root between her shoulder blades loosened, watching the face in front of her and the mask it was so obviously clinging to. Kept slipping, though. While staring directly at her.

It was, she would argue, why she did what she did. Without mumbling.

“You wanna sit?” “With you?” “Rude. You threw paper at me.” “It was a well-constructed airplane,” the muscle argued, “so you could also score the game. This was a nice thing I was doing.” “Past tense.” “Am doing,” he corrected. “Currently.”

“That mean you're going to sit?”

She counted. Seconds. Moments. Breaths. Dug her teeth into her lower lip. Against the side of her tongue. He nodded.

And climbed over the seat.

So, that was only going to marginally mess with her brain.

“Alright then,” Nina said, doing her best to flatten her paper against the bend of her knee, “tell me everything about your baseball tale of woe.”

He didn’t.

At least not at first.

It took until the fourth inning for them to begrudgingly agree that mowing patterns in the outfield was an abstract art form that did not often get the credit it deserved, before deciding, in no uncertain terms, that the NL East boasted some of the better uniform options in all baseball, even if that was mostly because of the Marlins and—

His hand moved to his shoulder.

The right one. More than once. Gently massaged the muscle there, a slight grimace that Nina only noticed because she was sitting squarely in the middle of objectification and she didn’t even know his name. Yet, she reminded herself.

They’d get there.

They didn’t. Not in that game, anyway.

A Saturday afternoon in May didn’t present the same sort of chill that required scalding hot coffee with absolutely nothing else in it, but Nina was playing with hope and resting on her not-so-cautious expectations. Seeing how wide his eyes could get was extra.

Sugar on top, if you will.

They got very wide. Frozen, even. Stuck halfway down the row, still no jersey, just his dropped jaw and slumped, possibly injured shoulders, ignoring the jabs from nearby season ticket holders who were starting to believe this mountain of muscle existed solely to block their sight lines.

Nina figured that’s what it was, at least.

He smiled.

That smile. Her smile. When she’d begun to claim it, she couldn’t begin to pinpoint, but it might have been six and two-thirds innings into last night’s game when his left arm had bumped her right, just enough warmth wafting off him to be noticeable. To leave goosebumps in his awake, too.

“There’s no sugar in it,” she promised, “so you don’t have to worry for the state of your stomach.” “I didn’t once think you were trying to poison me.” “High praise.” “Deservedly so.” She flushed. Ducked her eyes. Tried not to chew her tongue in half, or allow the burning-hot blood racing through every single one of her extremities to burst its way out of her skin. That would be off-putting. And traumatic.

“Here,” he added, tugging another folded piece of paper out of his back pocket, “for you.” “Are you printing these off in the hotel?” “Should be a private investigator, Ms. Met.” “Did your coach make you stay in Queens, Muscle?” The hand that landed on her waist — to move her, just to move her — was warm and blistering and those were two very different words with a pair of very different meanings and even more jarring consequences, and he sat down next to her.

Huh.

“Been taking the train in from Grand Central.” “Ugh, he’s making you stay over there? There’s no good food in that part of the city.” “Quiet, though.” Sticking her tongue out when she gagged continued to be one of Nina’s less impressive traits. “I blew my shoulder out my junior year of college.”

One of Nina’s knees buckled. Only one. The right one, actually. She refused to believe that was a sign. From baseball gods, or otherwise. “Hitting?” “Throwing. Probably because of the hitting, but the blowing out actually happened on what was considered by most in the know to be a pretty routine throw from left field. Hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I bet.” “I don’t remember a ton of what happened right after. Might have yelled? Quite possibly blacked out. Definitely heard something snap, which admittedly terrified me, but then there were a bunch of people talking and walking me down the tunnel and more lights and tests. The phrase never the same again was thrown around with alarming regularity.”

Cold. Nina was cold. Freezing beneath a mid-afternoon sun, one of those May days that tease of summer yet to come. They smell like cotton candy and potential, of a distinct lack of responsibility and SPF 70.

She had sensitive skin.

“Were you by yourself?” Asking questions she somehow already knew the answer to was equal parts cruel and unusual, particularly when asking it of a man whose name never got to back pages. Or her ears, it seemed. She swallowed whatever was sitting in the back of her mouth.

“Brum was there,” he said, but it sounded like an excuse. A practiced line that had started to reek of insincerity. “My—well, my parents had been gone for a while. Same old sob story you always hear, y’know? Kid loses everything, finds salvation in the dogma of sports, gets pretty good at it, and then—” “—Loses it all again?” Nina finished. She thought she did. Whoever was talking didn’t sound like Nina. Sounded like someone who had painstakingly refolded her paper airplane the night before. To keep on the nightstand next to her bed.

“Some of it, yeah. They wanted me to stick around. Stay on staff. Coach. But that was—” He clicked his tongue. Distant eyes stared past that goddamn M&Ms ad, and Nina didn’t think. Wasn’t that how the best athletes were, though? All instinct and lightning-fast reaction times. Responding to a situation before the rest of us mere mortals could even begin to fathom the circumstance.

He didn’t push her hand off his.

The coffee was going to go cold.

“Very maudlin way of approaching things.” She chuckled. Tried not to cry, for entirely new reasons. “Impressive vocabulary for a jock.” “Keep workshop'ing your insults, Ms. Met.”

“Brum, he just got hired by the Phillies, right?” She knew that answer too. “Is this the first game you’ve been to?” His eyes slid to hers. In that same slow motion as before, and that couldn’t possibly have been less than seventy-two hours ago, but life had a tendency to be weird like that and good like that and, well, you can’t predict baseball, Suzyn.

“Why the Mets?” It wasn’t the question she expected. Felt far too big and more than a little terrifying, jumping into the deep end of the pool from the highest diving board. But that same pool was always crystal clear, the sort of blue they wrote songs about. Summertime and the living was easy. That sort of thing.

“Because there’s something wonderful in a team that defies every bit of sports conjecture. That breathes in the chaos and spits out something that, every now and then, is absolutely beautiful. That lets me be bigger than myself for nine innings and a minimum of one-hundred and sixty-two games. That takes all my shortcomings and accepts them because one time this team claimed there was a raccoon fighting with a rat in the dugout tunnel. Because they don’t play The Imperial March during lineup announcements.” Something, something—she needed better sunscreen.

So as to not get burned by the force of his sun-like smile.

“I think a raccoon could probably take a rat, don’t you think?” “I don’t know,” Nina wavered, “I own a fair amount of Staten Island Pizza Rat merch.” His hand flipped. Fingers curled around hers and held on with an ease that settled her acid and cooled her blood, finally finding that middle ground between frigid and fission.

“Explain the single seating.” “I had a friend here on Thursday.” “And he had to go back to work. Where does he work?” “Bar in Jersey.” Curiosity flashed in the blue, but then it was gone and Nina must have imagined it, looking for more common ground and mutual understanding. Her fingers looked minuscule between his.

“If I told you that I know the new owner of the Mets,” Nina started, “because I went to college with his girlfriend, and he’s been listening to me talk about this team for the better part of a decade now, so he decided to spend some of his inherited millions to buy it, and now that same girlfriend is sitting up there perpetually confused why I like to be out here, do you think you’d hate me on principle?” One blink. Two. Head tilt. Jaw clench. His lips popped when they opened.

“No.” “No?” “No,” he echoed, “Nikolai Lantsov shouldn’t have spent so much money on your shortstop’s contract.” “Wasn’t an error.” Both shoulders lifted.

“Nina Zenik,” she said, a tardy greeting that should have happened well before the hand holding. The hand holding continued.

“Matthias Helvar.” “Did you bring a pen?” He pulled another one out of his jacket pocket.

They disagreed on no less than half a dozen calls. Impressive, since they didn’t actually start paying attention to their separate score sheets and books until early in the third inning after Nina had barely cleared the cheese sauce off the corner of her page.

Introducing themselves made it feel as if they’d crested another level in whatever the proper term for this not-quite relationship was.

Jabs weren’t nearly as sharp, but elbows brushed and noses scrunched. Makeshift disdain blurred against subtle infatuation, sunshine in his hair and pressing against the barrier of Nina’s consistently reapplied sunscreen. They talked. Laughed. Shouted and screamed, standing at different times. Much to the chagrin of everyone around them.

She didn’t bother asking about the Chase Utley jersey. Knew that it was as much a part of Matthias’s fandom as the Piazza jersey was to hers. Connecting him to something that was only partially his, because no matter how much this sport might be capable of sweeping over them, of bringing them along with the current, there was a riptide always threatening just below the surface. Capable of drowning and filling lungs, leaving them both taking on water and hastily constructed metaphors.

Plus, they both hated the Yankees. So, they talked about that.

Talked about places in the city they liked to go, Nina’s knowledge of hole-in-the-wall restaurants leaving his eyes as wide as she’d hoped they could be, tiny pools she was more than willing to dive into. With perfect form.

Laughter became the new normal for the pair of them, chancing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They always were. As if those magnets were real and forceful, leaving them both grinning like idiots whenever they were caught in the act.

Once an inning, then.

Matthias didn’t sing during the seventh-inning stretch, but Nina was loud enough for the pair of them. Especially when she was standing on her seat, a hand flat on the small of her back.

“So you don’t fall,” Matthias explained, and the words immediately branded themselves on that corner of her brain where Nina kept good things.

They shared a plastic helmet of swirl ice cream. With rainbow sprinkles.

He called them jimmies.

She made fun of him.

And then—

It was over.

No drama. No walk-off hits. No extra innings. Just a Mets win that didn’t require the bottom of the ninth. And she was happy with that, she was. Less so with the way her stomach dropped as soon as her knees bent and her chin lifted, barely tempered hope and the sort of want that did not require magnets to direct her gaze.

Matthias loomed above her, casting shadows and the desire to finally push her fingers into his hair was nearly too much to ignore. Nina did. In favor of what came next because she knew what came next, and this was not that serious. Sitting on opposing lines of a flimsy at best baseball rivalry did not mean she couldn’t push up on her toes and catch the mouth of someone who no longer felt like a stranger. Until that same mouth inevitably opened and she got to do whatever she wanted with her tongue.

Only—

One of the season tickets started grumbling, and the sea of fans pushed forward and the only way Nina stayed upright was because of the arm around her waist. Matthias’s nose ticked her skin along the back of her neck.

“Told ya,” he mumbled, and if he saw the goosebumps, he didn’t mention them.

That was nice.

He was nice.

She was—

A mess, at best.

Mostly because there was no kissing. Almost like they were nervous of what would happen if they did. Of shattering this tremulous understanding and shaky alliance, but Matthias’s fingers squeezed Nina’s hip before he said, “See you tomorrow.”

She did not see him tomorrow.

When tomorrow was tonight and now and Zoya and Genya kept doing circles around the room.

Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN required a certain amount of protocol and it was the first broadcast with Nikolai in the owner’s box, which meant plenty of shots at the owner’s box, and Nina sat in her very plush, decidedly warm seat, with only minimal argument.

There was champagne, so. That helped.

Plus, she figured she’d— “Is it a guy?” Genya asked without preamble, propping her chin on her hand. “Is that why you don’t want to hang out?” Nina sighed. “You know me better than that.” “Sure, sure, sure, looked real cozy down there, though.” “Are you spying on me?” “Nah, Zoya was.” Frustration clawed at Nina’s consciousness. Surprise did not. This was par for the course and several other out-of-place sports cliches.

Zoya finished her drink before adding, “I didn’t leave this suite all afternoon, yesterday, the security guards that Nikolai knows in that section though…” “That’s splitting hairs,” Nina argued. “And they were just doing their job,” Nikolai added, shouting in a way a multi-millionaire absolutely should not. Zoya rolled her eyes.

“Whatever they were doing,” Nina said, “they didn’t need to be doing it. What if someone got robbed while they were watching me?” “You think people are getting robbed in broad daylight inside this stadium?” “Maybe!” “Were lots of Phillies fans here,” Genya pointed out. Laughter clung to her words, quiet snickers from the rest of the assorted peanut gallery. Before they noticed that Nina wasn’t lacking. Might have paled, if the matching expressions she was met with were any indication. “Oh,” Genya exhaled, “good looking Phillies fan, huh?” Nina grit her teeth. “He knows Brum.” “The bastard,” Nikolai sneered.

“Most people don’t like him.” “Because he’s a bastard, yeah.” “How’d the Phillies fan know Brum?” Zoya asked, and it wasn’t like Nina wanted to tell them. Words poured out of her all the same, excitement carving its way into the conversation because even if she could rationalize the lack of kissing after a three-day conversation and occasional argument, none of her friends could understand how she didn’t get his number.

Neither could she, quite frankly.

“This is either disgustingly romantic,” Nikolai said, “or it’s exceedingly dumb. Of both of you.” Genya clicked her tongue. In agreement, Nina figured. “Second one, for sure. Do we have to go arrest him for something? Bring him up here, nervous and scared—” “Same sentiment,” Nina mumbled. “—Only for him to see you, awash in a sea of moonlight and outfield lights, and then you live happily ever after despite your baseball allegiances?” “He hates the Yankees too.” “Something, at least,” Zoya said, but it was missing the edge. The acid. The anger Nina had almost prepared herself for. “You going to go down there, or….”

Finishing the sentence was pointless when Nina was already standing, Nikolai’s laugh ringing in her ears as she did her best to push her finger straight through the elevator button. She bobbed on the balls of her feet, impatience skittering up her spine and there were too many buttons and too much laughter, but that was likely a good thing, and the security guards didn’t stop her.

From running into the section.

Only to find two sets of empty seats. His and hers. A weird, depressing, matching set.

Nina waited. Stood at the top of the section stairs, waiting for a flash of familiar hair or those eyes that she probably hadn’t dreamed about the night before. Never came. The goosebumps did, for an entirely new and even more depressing reason.

The security guard asked her to leave. Twenty-eight minutes after the last out.

Matthias hadn’t been at the game.

To be a Mets fan, was to wait.

For wins. For David Wright’s body to heal. For that same rush that came in 2015, only this time, it also came up with a World Series championship attached to it.

Nina wasn’t very good at waiting.

Summer crept forward. As it was apt to do. Going back to the ballpark was second nature to Nina, but the Mets were on their West Coast swing, and spending a week and a half with Zoya and Genya touring the greater California coast wasn’t entirely appealing. So, she was in New Jersey.

Leaning against the bar of the Crow Club, Nina watched the crowd. Most of them saturated with fruity alcohol, drinks that never came with those little umbrellas because the thought of such a thing would have set Kaz’s teeth on edge, but this was Atlantic City and that required a certain level of nonsense to be met consistently.

Plus, Nina knew Inej liked those drinks.

And that was that, for Kaz. As they say.

Heads turned at tables while she watched, conversations that only occasionally acknowledged the baseball games on TVs hanging above them, others recounting beach exploits from that afternoon and plans for the rest of the evening, a steady din of noise and humanity that somehow made it easier for Nina to breathe.

It smelled like salt when she did.

“Looking awfully thoughtful,” Inej said, appearing out of nowhere to grin knowingly at Nina. “Give you a nickel for them.” “They’re not worth that much.” “What about one of those tokens from the casino down the boardwalk?” “Does Kaz know Jesper went to play there again?” “Absolutely.” “And?” “And what?” Inej parroted. “Who are you looking for, exactly?” “No one.” It was the wrong answer. A telling answer. An answer Nina didn’t realize she was capable of providing until the very moment those five letters in that specific order passed between lips in desperate need of ChapStick. And kissing. Gods, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t kissed him.

“Our dear, darling Nina is pining,” Jesper explained. Drink in hand, the soft clink of casino tokens was as absurd as it was not, a mix of youth and age and responsibility and not. The perfect blend of summertime status.

Nina took a sip of his drink before he could offer. She assumed he would offer.

“For that,” Jesper hissed, “I’ll tell Inej the rest of the story.” He did. Spared no expense, really. Recounted scorebooks and shouting matches, although some dramatic license was taken at that point, drawing a small crowd that included a guy Nina had never met before, staring openly at Jesper like he’d hung the moon. She’d make fun of him for that. Maybe. After the story. Probably.

Inej was a rapt audience, taking in details and occasionally letting her eyes flit toward Nina. Who never once disputed anything. There was nothing to dispute. The goddamn paper airplane was still sitting on her goddamn nightstand.

“And you just never saw him again?” Inej asked. Nina shook her head. “That’s tragic. Not—maybe not grand scheme, world level, but tragic all the same.” “No kissing either,” Jesper added.

Nina’s heart dropped. Shattered at her feet. Like one of those plates, you could shoot at in the arcade. “How do you know that?” “I didn’t, until right now. Simple assumption, though. Who could pine at your level if there’d been previous making out?” “Two different things,” Inej murmured.

Jesper hummed in agreement. “And Nina wanted both. Fraternizing with the enemy.” “He hated the Yankees, too.” “So, what? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? My good-looking friend?” “He was good-looking, right?” That earned her another hum — and got Jesper a look of passing consternation from the guy at his side. Nina desperately needed to learn names in a more timely fashion. Determined to remedy at least one situation, she took a deep breath and immediately, very nearly died.

It was very dramatic.

Sweeping, even.

Because the door opened and she knew the music didn’t stop and the Earth didn’t pause mid-rotation, but it felt like her center of balance had been inextricably altered and that wasn’t the bad thing it should have been when Matthias Helvar took his first step into the Crow Club.

Not falling over really was a rather monumental miracle.

If she decided to move, Nina did not remember it. Could not bother with something as menial as cognitive reasoning or the ability of the neurons in her brain to properly fire, not when she was twisting around tables and reminding herself of all the very important properties oxygen possessed. In regard to continued consciousness.

He didn’t move. He waited. Watched. Documented her, it felt like.

She wasn’t entirely opposed.

Their shoes nearly brushed.

“Huh,” Matthias breathed, slumping slightly to get into her eye line. Or just closer to her. The specifics didn’t matter. “I was right, then.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “You said your friend worked at a bar in Jersey.” “This is a bar in Jersey.” “Yeah, we might be going in circles, actually.” “What are you doing here?” Nina was dimly aware of Jesper shouting something, but the buzz between her ears was far too loud and even the concept of pulling her gaze away from Matthias’s made her want to grit her teeth together until she ground them down completely.

She licked her lips.

He smiled. “After I got hurt,” Matthias explained, “I didn’t know what way was up. So, I went...up. Best as I could, really, up the Shore.” “Is that a joke?” “No, I thought your friend looked familiar. Was driving me nuts, honestly.” “How?” “Twenty questions, Ms. Met.” “Matthias!”

Her voice cracked. Her foot stomped. Air crackled and the world very likely did shift because the hands on Nina’s cheeks were warm and perfectly sized to pull her that much closer and she was legitimately proud of herself. For not stepping on his feet. He didn’t really give her the chance.

Rocking against each other, there was a joke about tides and current to be made and Nina pushed them back, down or up, and direction didn’t matter and time didn’t matter. Sports allegiance was the least of her worries. Not when Matthias’s arm found her waist and there was something to be said for the stretch of his upper body. Capable, as it was, of lifting her up and he was ten-thousand times better at any tongue thing than she could have possibly imagined.

Tracing her lips and twisting around her own, like he was taking a very personal and detailed inventory. One of his thumbs brushed against Nina’s cheeks, but she honestly couldn’t figure out which one. Everything was sensation and feeling, a bases-clearing double that kept the rally alive and the roar in the background wasn’t the crowd at Citi Field, but Inej perched on the edge of the bar and Jesper balanced on the rungs of a rickety stool, and they only broke apart to fall back together.

Nina closed her eyes.

Better to remember, that way.

To let her breath catch whenever Matthias’s neck dipped again, the sort of angle that sonnets were written for, and epic romances documented. Right side up and cross dimensions and Nina’s eyelashes fluttered. Open, closed. Once, twice.

He was still there.

“You go down the Shore, everybody knows that,” Nina whispered, still somehow sounding like herself. Good, that was good. And only good, that time.

“I think you’re getting paid by the disagreement.” “I liked shouting your name.” His eyes—

Sparkled, maybe.

She didn’t even hate herself for thinking that.

“Probably about as much as I enjoyed hearing it,” Matthias said, “and I’ve been here before. Spent that summer drinking at,” his head jerked toward the corner where Inej waved, “that corner. This was as far away from school and baseball and everything I thought was gone as I could find.” “Ah, the scorebook makes sense now.” “Does it just?” “You know baseball isn’t often predictable nor nearly that organized. That’s the appeal, so people claim.” “They do,” Matthias admitted, “but I—is that demon-looking guy still working here?” “Kaz owns this bar.” “Of course he does. You know everyone, don’t you Ms. Met?” “Impressive like that.” Humming wasn’t really her favorite of the audible, non-word responses, but Nina heard something different in that sound than she ever had before. Almost like hope and something worth waiting for, if only because the waiting found her first.

She kissed the bottom of his chin.

It was all she could reach.

“I really wanted you to be here, Nina,” Matthias said, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t there Sunday. For that game, I—that wasn’t part of the plan, but...well, Brum had set up this whole interview with a college team in the middle of nowhere, thinking I’d be good with that and—” “You weren’t good with that?” His hair shook when his head did. “Not really, no.” “Did he kick you out of your hotel?”

“Smart too.” “Total package.” “Yeah,” Matthias said, a note of awe that made Nina’s skin prickle, “anyway, I’m pretty much in New York full-time now, but trying to find you there seemed impossible.” “So you figured you’d try a bar in the middle of Atlantic City?” “I leave a very strong impression,” Jesper yelled, practically jumping off the stool when Kaz glared. Inej’s smile was hypnotic.

“Something like that,” Matthias agreed, “so this is the part where we actually give each other our phone numbers and then—” His arm tightened again, finding a bit of space that certainly hadn’t been there twelve seconds before. Just enough to make sure Nina heard him mumble I like you before he kissed her. Or she kissed him.

Either or, really.

They went to Yankee Stadium on Labor Day weekend.

Nikolai pulled some strings to get them suite seats with complimentary well drinks and never-ending popcorn and both Matthias and Nina wore wholly out of place jerseys. Supporting neither of the teams on the field. Just each other, maybe. At least without much argument. They had better things to do, anyway. Fingers laced together, Nina shouted at the field and Matthias stared at anyone who dared glance in their direction and it was weird and wonderful and exactly what sports was supposed to be.

Caring about something beyond reason, something bigger and better than any one person was alone.

#matthias x nina #helnik #helnik fanfiction #nina zenik #matthias helvar #soc fanfic #insert shrug emoji here #every now and then i have these like...five hour bursts where i write all these words at once #this is the product of one of those

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