#Nazca fic

[foggyfanfic]

There comes a point when you are doing too much research for fanfic, and that point is probably way before you’re looking up the interactions between the Cocos and Nazcas plates in order to decide where you would put a fictional island if you want it off the coast of Colombia.

[shitpostingkats]

You know how Yugi is just a presence in GX? 5Ds AU where Jaden is the overarching presence around Yusei. Starts hanging around the crew after Yusei returns from the Paradox thing because of the timeloop. Leo: If you're such a powerful duelist, where were you this entire time? Jaden: With Yugi at the Nazca lines. Did you know there's, lik,e 80 of those things? Sure you guys tussled with the top generals but Yugi and I handled the others. Thanks for that by the way, the whale hates me. Crow: Why does Chacu Challhua hate you? Jaden: I stopped it from claiming Yusei. Team 5Ds: ...What. Jaden: Yeah! A few years back I sensed a disturbance, walked through the darkness between the dimensions, and punched a demon whale that tried to claim Yusei as he was drowning. Don't know how that last part happened. Jack: Yes. It's a mystery. Let's talk about something else now.

adakdsklajsdf I have an au that's EXACTLY this.

Literally the first yugioh wip I started was a canon divergent fic where at the end of bbt Jaden and Yusei get stuck in Jaden's time and have to find a way to get Yusei home. At then they get back to Neo Domino and Jaden just. Hangs around.

In canon, the events of BBT happen right before the crashtown arc (which is weirdly hilarious to me). Scenes that I kept imagining were when Aki realises she's lost her powers and has to go to Jaden for help. And she's having an existential crisis over why this is happening and he goes "Well, I've lost my ability to talk to spirits like three times in my life :/ Kinda could be anything." and they both bond over being reformed weirdo magic people.

Also a whole drafted conversation imagining Bruno falling into the black hole and just. Jaden's there. I am a godsdarned SUCKER for emotional, calm conversations between two characters when one of them knows they're about to die. THEY HAVE SO MANY PARALLELS TO EACH OTHER GODDAMMIT. The copy of an original chained to their own predetermined actions. They could have such an insane talk about it.

But imagine if Jaden's there from season 1. An evil cult trying to unleash a multidimensional demon from the prison of darkness between worlds? Hm, if only we knew the reagent ruler of the realm that is in charge of keeping dangerous spirits like exodia locked up.

Watching s1 of 5Ds and I just kept saying aloud "Jaden, do your job."

[thecryptidzenith]

hi! I love your Midnight Oil fic, it’s so good! I have a question about it-more specifically Baron. In the fic, Baron seems to be based on Fig’s lies instead of Riz’s, but during the baronies/con era, it seemed implied that Riz was at least dreaming of them. Am I wrong, and if not, will the fic ever expand on that?

Hi! Thank you for the question! There are a lot of moving pieces in Midnight Oil and in all honesty, I don't know for certain where they're all going to end up, and I certainly didn't know for sure what the fic would look like up to this point when I started, let alone beyond that. All this to say, when I put that Baron foreshadowing in the Baronies era, I had no idea what I was going to do with them and simply trusted myself to figure something out in the future. Obviously, I did! But unfortunately that foreshadowing does not match what I ended up doing with them. If/when I go back to do any edits, I'll definitely change it.

This strategy of leaving myself threads and trusting that I'll pick the back up has generally worked well in Midnight Oil--I had no idea what I was going to do with Jean when I left him alive, and I didn't decide that Nazca was going to be Poxson's red herring mom until I wrote the last chapter where she's alive--and it maintains my enthusiasm for writing, but there are drawbacks to it.

Baron specifically was a huge question mark for a long time in terms of how I was going to incorporate them, or if I was going to incorporate them at all. There was a version I played around with for a bit where Kalina basically created Baron and thrusted them in Riz's direction after Aelwyn got captured as a replacement for her (predictably, he took it extremely poorly) but that's not what ended up happening. I didn't know Baron was going to be Fig's thing until I wrote the chapter where it's first mentioned.

So that's my answer, but that's very much from a writing perspective. As for an in-universe explanation (and this is largely me talking out of my ass) Baron is already semi-formed at this point in time and wants to play with their cat?/sister?'s toy for a little bit before daddy says he's off limits because Riz is doing important work.

[gvtted-ratz]

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THOMAS

Tom/Thomas x Hacker!GN!Reader

Last Edited: 11/07/2024

TW: mocking, drugging, imprisonment, kidnapping, illegal auctioning, human trafficking

Requested: No.

Word Count: 3,721

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes from gvtted-ratz (writer/creator): Tom, our beloved. There isn’t much, if any, info on him, so we did our best. If you don’t enjoy the headcanons we’ve established here, we don’t mind you clicking off the fic. We do suggest looking up Nazca and its culture. It was pretty interesting to read about.

Notes from @rppik (editor/co-writer): a quote from when I was editing: “Rat, you self-indulgent meta-ass whore, PLEASE”

“I assume this is everything?” You can hear Blue and Red getting shifty at your words. They, as well as you, have been waiting for the introduction to cease to start your biddings.

“That it is, yes! Would my esteemed customers like to let this lowly auctioneer know what goods you wish to purchase?”

Yes, that is the question, isn’t it? Who will you be bidding on to take with you?

》YOU HAVE SELECTED THOMAS 《

“Blue window? Which do you wish to take with you? I’ll make sure to have it all written down!” The Auctioneer asks, motioning towards a metal door. Behind it, you’re sure there’s someone there to take notes of what items are purchased, they will be shipped to, as well as who wasn’t bought.

“Oh! I’d love to have that Thomas boy! I’ll do 140 for him! And perhaps Mason for 250?” Blue’s window lights up. She sounds excited to go first with her purchases. Then again, she always complained when she didn’t get to go before everyone else; better she goes now than later.

“Very well. How about the red window? Whom will you be taking?” The Auctioneer's  facial expression is unable to be seen behind her bandage-like mask, though the way she talks with such joy only highlights how well she is at her job.

“200 on Machete, 340 each for the Goffard boys,” Red says, window lighting up.

“What the fuck! Fuck you!” Derek says, Matt looking just as livid as his brother. Machete doesn’t look to be phased at being chosen by Red; his face stays calm despite this very unlucky situation he’s found himself in.

Those that haven’t been chosen appear to be less tense, relieved to not be bought. On the other hand, of Blue’s selected prizes, Mason looks ready to kill; his eyes looking this way and that, body tensed like a large predator ready to pounce. Tom's widened eyes, however, are shiny with fearful, unshed tears.

It appears Blue wants to have someone she can “put in their place” while also having somewhat of an obedient mutt.

“Green window? Would you kindly tell this lowly Auctioneer your choice?”

“150 for Tom,” your warbled voice makes said man flinch at your words. You can see his clasped hands shaking.

“What! But, Green! I want him,” Blue whines, making a distorted sigh spill from your lips. A few of the products’ eyes have that “oh God, now what” look to them. “200!”

“Nearing your budget. 300,” you retort, no hesitation in your tone. You hear a few huffs from her window, the blue glow only highlighting how spoiled she acts despite her age.

“Fine! I’ll take that dirty cop for 150 then!” You can mentally hear the ‘humph!’ after her words, leading to you to sigh once more. Blue is probably the Bidder you like the least, due to her spoiled tone paired with the inability to actually fight for items she deems worthy of her money. You already know she can’t afford the things she wants, compared to you or Red, that is. How she acts only adds fuel to that raging fire.

“‘Dirty cop!? Who the fuck do you think you are, you stupid bitch!” Said dirty cop is now making a fuss, making you smash your hand into your window to silence him. The rattling directs his gaze to your area while others try to look anywhere but.

“Auctioneer, the bidding is done. I will send you the money as agreed upon, including the extra,” you declare, the modulator only making your voice sound emotionless.

“Oh, yes! Of course! Thank you for joining us here today! As ordered, those who were not purchased will be dropped off in or near their respective towns!” A high-pitched whine rings out as a clear mist fills the room, falling from the spouts attached to its ceiling.

The Auctioneer stands away from the shackled group, seemingly watching on as they yell at everyone around them; cornered animals always tend to lash out when there’s no escape. While they proceed to collapse in heaps on the metal ground below, you, The Auctioneer, and your fellow buyers remain standing; you’re not sure if The Auctioneer has a resistance or a built-in filter to keep out the gas used to put the products to sleep. You do know that the buyers’ rooms have a separate system from the main room, holding its own spouts for the gas in case there happens to be a violent mishap.

Just as quickly as the gas started, it clears just as fast; the spouts no longer whine from releasing the unknown chemicals in the air. Dressed similarly to The Auctioneer, employees of hers enter through the only metal door leading into the room. They grab both the purchased and the unsold, hauling them out for shipment; those that have not been chosen will be carted off as The Auctioneer had stated previously, able to be bought again at a later date. Each of the merchandise will be connected to a drip, keeping them under as they’re delivered to their respective drop-off locations.

You feel a small amount of glee at seeing your chosen target being placed in a wheelchair, IV hooked into the meat of his espresso-brown arm. While he doesn’t know it, he’ll be awaiting your arrival as is per policy; there must be a positive identification of the commodity before the Auction House's job is labeled as complete, with this being a precaution in the case of the delivery being in the wrong area.

“All has been settled, yes?” The Auctioneer’s polite speech forces you to stop staring after your new companion. “Would you kindly wire your payments at this time?” Her customer-service tone hasn’t dialed down nor increased during the entirety of the show’s presentation; it simply remains as prim as possible without grating on your nerves.

“The amount should arrive shortly. Exactly as agreed upon.” You present your burner, clicking the keys to gain access to an offshore account you’ve set up prior to this visit. If one were to try tracking it, somehow getting past your secured firewalls and the encryptions you spent days installing, the trail would only lead to some sap who has a very disturbing interest in illegal images containing unsavoury depictions of people’s mutilated bodies. No skin off your back– literally or figuratively, in this case.

Your distorted-sounding words hold true, as some device beyond the metal door The Auctioneer is standing beside lets out a ding . Hearing it, she glances over at it before nodding, deeming your actions acceptable.

“Thank you, Green. I have hope from the bottom of my heart that your lovely purchase with bear the ripest of fruit for your taking!” You only give her a nod from the glass, knowing she cannot see into it unless you were to talk, forcing the light to shine on your form. You don’t bother to stay any longer, deciding to leave the little boxed room. Likewise, you’d rather not listen to any concerns nor issues the other buyers may have; such instances usually end up in heated arguments or death of said buyer, and you're not particularly interested either way.

With the door closing behind you, another figure dressed like one of the many previously seen employees steps out in front to guide you. There are no words exchanged, the only sounds you hear being that of your own footsteps, paired with your guide’s own muffled breathing through the gauzy wrappings around their head.

Nearing the end of the hallways, the guide opens the dark-wooden door before you, stepping aside to allow you to walk through. Your pace stays consistent, neither slowing nor speeding up. Brick steps turn into a worn gravel path under your shoes as you approach your vehicle. The keys are pressed into your awaiting hand by another member of staff, dressed like the others before them. The rental is easy to gain access to, the engine starting with ease now that you’ve put the key in the ignition. As you drive off, you don’t look back, looking forward to approaching your place of work. You’re sure that by the time you arrive, your chosen prize will be there waiting for you, unknowingly in his sleeping state, of course.

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

The black van parked in front of the dilapidated garage you call your workplace almost makes you chuckle. It’s hardly inconspicuous though the van is needed to transport goods like the one you’ve purchased; it only makes the image of a kidnapping, or even a body dumping event, brighter in your mind’s eye. Maybe if it was part of some sort of amateur fanfiction made by a sleep-deprived author, you’d have thought more about the vehicle’s design or the fact that you’re at a very odd location after visiting a human trafficking auction to purchase someone. As it were, you had better things to preoccupy your mind with.

You park the rental close to the van, exiting it to approach the back of the dark car. The back doors swing open, an employee of the auction house opening them from the inside. They gesture at the incapacitated man, allowing your hidden eyes to glance over his form.

The IV is still inserted in his median antebrachial vein, or the superficial vein of the forearm; it’s one of the most common places one inserts an IV. He’s been strapped down on a gurney, keeping him in place during the entire ride here; if he were to wake up during transportation, he wouldn’t have been able to escape with all the leather straps keeping him held down. The man hasn’t been changed out of the white tank top or blue shorts, glasses still on his face.

With a quick nod at the worker to signal your approval, they start the process of getting him prepped for you. They remove all the bonds, drip taken out afterwards, and have one of the bulkier employees carry him over their shoulder like a sack of grains.

You step to the side, allowing them to exit their van, just to lead them into the dilapidated garage. Rubbish, dust piles, as well as weeds decorate the ground before you. While there is a house attached to this abandoned hole, you don’t use it. The house has more damage to it than the garage itself, all thanks to some squatters; there may have been a few drunk, teenage party animals who pitched in too, though that remains unproven. There’s no use in trying to clean up the rest of the place, the garage being the most stable despite its looks; there’s still electricity running through the place, leading to your computer set-up, including a portable heater for when the nights get a little too chilling.

You motion towards a spot in the corner of the room with a dog bed on the floor to have some cushion against the concrete ground. A few blankets are thrown haphazardly near it, the portable heater pointing towards the corner. Along the wall, there are some old pipes, carrying water to the shower a few feet away.

To you, the place looks more like a basement than some abandoned garage, and you can’t help but think you got lucky when nabbing this place. With it purchased under one of your many aliases, the trespassing has been cut down greatly; a few shots from a hidden gun does wonders on chasing them away too.

The business-casual dressed worker sets your merchandise on the dog bed as you gesture towards said spot, being careful as to not cause any damages. Those who aren’t careful with purchased goods tend to disappear, as is stated in The Auctioneer’s policy; only the best is expected, after all.

With your new companion disposed of in his respective spot, you give the worker a dismissive wave. You don’t have to watch them leave, hearing their footsteps retreat. You approach your desk, pulling open the bottom drawer to find your desired items. Shoving aside a few snacks, you pull out a pair of handcuffs, and a chain hook connected to a heavy-duty chain; the chain gives two feet of length if used correctly. With your items acquired, you kick the drawer closed.

You approach the unconscious man, knowing he won’t be that way for long. You loop the chain around the pipe, using the hook to lock it in place. With the chain secured, you put one of the chain loops in one of the handcuffs, tightening the cuff until you can’t click the metal any farther. With everything now set up, you lock the cuff around your prize’s wrist; it isn’t tight enough to cut into the meat of his wrist, but it will cause bruising if he yanks on it.

Now that your possession is secured, you throw one of the discarded blankets over him in some semblance of care for the man. A ping from your computer notifies you of a possible correspondence. Leaving the man to continue with his rest, you instead place your focus on work. The office chair is pulled out, creaking with your weight as you plop down in it. A click of your mouse causes the multitude of monitors to light up. Your helmet provides cover from the bright lights, the tinted lens serving its purpose well.

The clacking of your keycaps fills the rotting room, replying to messages from clients about any delays or issues they may be concerned about. Other responses are to those like you, sending out warnings on which clients to avoid and what people to not try messing with when it comes to their valuable privacy. A familiar last name comes up in those encryptions, leading to you sending one to those you’ve worked with: Goffard. Auction. Bought. Both. Location Unknown . You knew the moment you heard that last name, it wouldn’t be long before there would be reports in the hidden parts of the web about it.

Father. Killings. Watch out. Another code says, the word of caution making a warbled hum leave you.

Other Buyers. Not User. Safe. That’s your last response, seemingly making the others let up. Perhaps they thought you had bought the men, but with your short messages, their worries are put at ease. You’re sure these correspondences will be sent to the men’s father, only leading him down another path, as two of his heirs are missing. That is none of your concern, however, as people like you are highly sought after. You wouldn’t be surprised if he asks for aid from one of you; he may or may not care for his sons, but he certainly will care for his business and image.

A gasp not far from you alerts you to your captive. You turn to look towards your right, hands not leaving the keyboard. Tom has huddled up close to the pipes, staring at you with wide brown eyes; his pupils seem contracted, merely pinpricks with how he shakes in terror. To see such small pupils almost makes you proud of your apparent ability to intimidate without even trying, though you usually see dilated ones for those in fear. Maybe it truly does just vary from person to person.

“Rise and shine, Sweetheart,” you adopt a mocking tone despite the modulator forcing it to sound monotone.

“How long was I..?” He asks, though it’s more hesitant than anything. You find it cute that he thinks there’ll be some sort of repercussions for possessing curiosity.

“A few hours, give or take. Nearly the entire day, maybe. Then again, it’s hard to tell considering I haven’t kept track of the time,” your insincere chagrin is coated in the surgery sweetness of falsehood; if it had been an actual treat, it would have rotted your teeth out. 

“What do you want from me?” Tom sounds a little more confident with this question; it’s not by much, if you’re being honest.

“Companionship, a pet, someone to complain to, and whatever else I want you to be,” you’re blunt with the answer, no use sugar-coating why you purchased him. “Believe it or not, Tom , it tends to get very quiet here. Unless I’m dealing with a very crass client. Then there’s screaming from them and shit-talking from me.” You put emphasis on his name, showing that you do, in fact, know it. He likely doesn’t even know the half of how much you know about him; the summary The Auctioneer gave you couldn’t cover the array of other things you’ve found out about him.

With some digging, you knew his parents came all the way from the city of Nazca, stationed on the southern coast of Peru, leaving before he was conceived. Following their trail further, you found that his parents now reside in Eatonia, Saskatchewan of Canada. Looking a bit more into Tom himself, you saw that he was born and raised there, only moving to a more university based town after his high school graduation. You did have someone take a few pictures of his dorm in your place; at first, you were unsure if Thomas practiced anything relating to Nazca culture, but the few hand-made pottery and ceramic items placed around show he still has a connection. You also spied a few small plants in his dorm, grown by his own hands, if the dates on the hand-made plant pots said anything about that; there were even care instructions next to each one.

From your own research into Nazca culture, you knew there was an emphasis placed on agriculture as well as an array of crafts like pottery, ceramics, and textiles. Even as a full-time college student pursuing media development centered around sound design, he still has time to stay connected to those before him.

“You won’t be letting me go, will you?” Tom sounds devastated at this revelation, his words rousing you from your silent recollection of your findings on him. At least he caught on quick enough without you having to spell it out for him.

“I wouldn’t buy you just to throw you out. What a waste of money,” your scoff can be heard through the helmet. He looks to be cowed at the sound, making that small bit of pride nestle close to your heart. You look back over at him, watching his shaking form. A loud sigh spills from your lips, catching his attention. “Behave and your little spot will be upgraded. I’ll even let you continue your college courses. Online, of course, and monitored carefully. I don’t need you running off the moment you think you taste freedom.”

Your words seem to be enough to comfort Tom, his eyes shining at the idea of having some semblance of normalcy despite the circumstances, seeming to recognize that this is a far better fate than he might have received otherwise as an unwilling captive.

“I’ll- I can behave! I promise I will!” His eager words make you nod.

“I’ll hold you to those words, Thomas. Remember, I have eyes and ears everywhere . So long as you behave, you’ll get whatever you want.” His nod seals the deal, leading you to go back towards your work. If everything works out, he’ll be more than some glorified pet in this run-down shit-hole.

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

“How was your day out?” Tom sits on your couch, laptop in hand, with notebooks spread across your coffee-table.

“You know how I always complain about my clients, yeah?” You flop down next to him, spreading out on the couch. Ever since you bought him from that auction, he’s kept his word; no running, no sending SOS messages through his email to family or college, or screaming for help when you do take him out of your flat. In fact, you never even had to hurt or manhandle him in any way to keep him from fleeing. Due to this, you’ve kept your word. Instead of that shit-hole of a garage, he’s been moved to your own apartment. From some pet to a possible friend, he’s been living with you for nearly a year now. You buy him whatever he wants, giving him anything he asks for. All he has to do, in return, is stay.

“You did mention this specific one two days ago. Is she complaining again?” He asks, writing some notes down. Your scoff makes him glance at you for a second before continuing with his work.

“More like trying to get me to redo the entire 143-page document I created after saying they wanted every little piece of info I could gather on her target. She says it’s too much, but won’t pay me to cut down and summarize the information.” You adjust yourself so you’re leaning against his side, watching him work. Tom doesn’t even react to your touch as you keep talking. “Like, what do you mean you want me to do more work without being paid for it? That’s not happening. You can find someone else to redo my work if you’re that upset with it.”

“As you said, she can find someone else if she won’t pay you. You did what she asked, so that's on her for giving you the wrong instructions.” There’s a pause as he stops his note-taking. You watch him collect himself as he tries to find the words to express what he wants. “Can I… Go out later today?”

“Take your phone with you,” it’s more of a demand than anything, and Tom knows it. You can’t risk losing him if he does leave. 

“Of course! I… I wouldn’t leave it behind. You told me you have eyes everywhere…” There’s acceptance in his words, knowing that you’d find him no matter what.

“Good. Then you can go out. Make sure to be careful. Worse comes to worst, you’re hurt, and I have to get my hands dirty to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Your hands twitch at the thought of having to take another life to ensure Tom is off limits. You’ve already made it clear within your informant group through a series of warnings and threats.

“And if I’m dead?” It’s asked casually, almost like he expects to die on one of his trips.

“The only way that happens is if I allow it.”

》START OVER?《

[talesofzero]

Carpe Noctem - Ch. 27

AU; Chapter 27 - Fiat Iustitia Et Pereat Mundus

More or less the final main chapter. Melodrama abounds.

~2700 words

Wataru and I always joked about who would win in a fight, and we’d had our spats. But this was different. This wasn’t for punishment, not him losing patience with me, not some harmless bout.

His hands shot toward my chest anytime he came within range. He wanted to tear my heart out. He wanted me dead. Well, it wasn’t really him.

My only thought was to stall. His reach was longer than mine, and if I made one wrong move, I was as good as dead. If it had been some other vampire aiming to kill me, I would have had little trouble moving in close and ending his life first. But this was my brother. I could only hope for an opening to knock him out.

In the cramped quarters between homes, I leapt back from him over and over, always fearing my back landing against a wall. He closed each gap I made in an instant, one hand outstretched to grab or kill me.

I had to buy more time. Useless as he was, Father wouldn’t abandon us. He would show up eventually to help.

Any moment now…

If that bastard did abandon us again, I would come back from the grave just to kick his ass.

Despite his empty eyes, Wataru wasn’t as mindless as he appeared. I was wrong to think I was leading him, as I saw the walls in my peripherals narrowing into a corner. He’d herded me right where he wanted me.  

With my options limited, I tried to dart past him. Immediately, I realized my mistake. His hand caught my throat and slammed me into the wall. The wooden structure crackled at my back.

“Wataru,” I hissed, catching his eye. The familiar song of hypnosis tinted my voice. “Stop.”

His eye flashed red for an instant, just long enough for me to know he was fighting, just long enough for his fingertips to pause against my chest. It gave me enough time to grab his arm and snap the bone clean in two.

Though he didn’t make a sound, his grip on my throat eased. Shoving myself from the wall, I placed myself in his guard. “Wake up!” I roared, grabbing his head in one hand and smashing it down onto the dirt ground. The crack of his skull rang up into my shoulder. As I knelt there panting, he remained still. Blood pooled out in a dark stain around his head.

I may have overdone it, but his heartbeat remained strong in echo to mine. Leaning in close, I breathed a sigh, “My apologies, brother. But please stay down.”

Regaining my feet, I looked back to the wolves. Nazca stood over Shep’s fallen form. The poor boy’s tail was tucked between his legs, though it was clear he was trying to look menacing in case of trouble. Gido, as always, had vanished from sight. I had to hope Father had tailed him.

“Nazca,” I called. The wolf’s ears perked up. “Try to drag these two to safety, somewhere out of the sun’s reach. If Wataru wakes, he shouldn’t hurt you, but stay out of his way just in case.”

He gave a nod. I had no choice but to trust him based solely on that. The sky was beginning to lighten.

I could still feel Gido and Father’s hearts, both racing now. They weren’t too far. I dashed down the nearest alley as half the sky stained the deep blue of the ocean. If the Sun caught me, so be it, as long as it caught Gido as well.

I came upon him in the middle of a crossroads, covered in nicks and gashes from the rapier clutched in Father’s hand. It hung limp in Father’s grasp, fallen to his side. His breath rattled like Zero’s had after that damn arrow hit him. The gash in Father’s shoulder, Gido’s cutlass, and the smell of wolfsbane in the air told the rest of the story.

As I rushed in between them, Gido stepped back. It seemed I’d arrived just in time, or something had stopped Gido from delivering a fatal blow.

“Sorry,” Father murmured at my back. “Let my guard down.”

“It’s alright, Vati,” I said. “Find a safe spot. Rest.”

His slowing heart raced a few beats. He always was easy to please. As his dragging footsteps grew distant, I stared Gido down.

“Enough running,” I said once again.

He said nothing, his lips pulled into a frown.

“Let’s end this.” I took a step forward, and he staggered back. It seemed all that talk was for nothing once he truly had to face me.

“Is Wataru alright?” he asked.

My blood boiled for a moment. He’d been the one to put Wataru in danger in the first place, but my confusion overwhelmed my anger. “What?” was all I could manage.

“You smell like his blood. Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” I growled.

He swallowed. Then nodded. When he spoke, his voice wavered. “The house with the flowers in the window, back the way you came – go there when this is over.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “My god, it’s finally over.”

I took another step toward him, my hand reaching out on its own. And again, he stepped back away from me. His cutlass, stained with Father’s blood, clattered to the ground.

“Go back there, Phantom. Promise me you’ll go back.” More tears followed, bleeding out from under the mask.

This time, I didn’t give him the chance. In two quick steps, I stood close enough to rip the mask away. His eyes were puffy and red with exhaustion, yet they were the same brilliant blue as the sky overhead. “Richard,” I breathed. My hand came to rest against his cheek, and he leaned into my touch with a pained smile.

“Promise me, big brother.”

“I-I promise.” I couldn’t recall what I was promising. I only knew he was here now, my little brother. There was ground beneath my feet once more.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t stay.”

No, I had him back now. He couldn’t leave again. I wouldn’t let him. I wouldn’t let anything hurt him ever again. I would protect him. I would-

“Let it end,” he said.

My heart burst again, a cavernous, bloody hole in my chest.

“But you’re back,” I said, dazed. “It’s you. I know it’s you.”

“He’ll come back. He always does once the sun sets. Phantom. Please.”

“I can’t,” I choked. “I can’t kill you. I can’t lose you again.” I clutched his face in my hands, tears pouring from my eye. “I can’t hurt you again. I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Pushing up to his toes, he placed a kiss to my forehead and shushed me as though I were the younger one. “You don’t have to kill me. It’s alright. I should never have asked you to. But let it end.”

He placed his hand to my chest and shoved be back hard enough for my back to hit the wall. Again, he took a few steps back, out of the shadow of the house shielding us and into the sun’s burning rays.

“Richard,” I gasped, stumbling forward to grasp at him. Even with my glove, the moment my hand found sunlight, the sting made me jolt back. I couldn’t imagine my brother’s pain as he fell to his knees, steam rising from his skin.

“It’s okay-it’s okay,” he lied. He forced his eyes up to mine, a bright, brilliant smile easing onto his face. “I know Gido always wanted to make you hurt, so it’s cruel of me to give him what he wants like this, but I’m happy you’re here with me. I didn’t want to be alone.”

His breaths became ragged gasps for air, and I started toward him again. I wanted to pull him to safety, but if I couldn’t have that, I wanted to hold him close while he burned.

“No, Phantom, you have to live,” he said as a crack appeared in his cheek. “I’m not mad at you. I wouldn’t have traded those years with you and Daiba for anything. I want you to be happy like that again, with him. So live for them. And for me.”

His cheek began to crumble away, graying into ash and falling like snow. It infected his eye until he mirrored me. As I tried to find something to say other than an apology, he turned toward the sound of uneven footsteps. A young boy with rattling breaths hobbled toward us, his hair a mess of auburn. Blood dripped from his chin with his every lurching step.

“Sammy,” Richard called, and the boy’s red-hued eyes lit up. He collapsed into Richard’s awaiting arms as they too crumbled into dust. “I’ve got you,” Richard cooed as though speaking to a pet, as I felt sure he was.

“I’m sorry,” I said, this time to the boy. I doubted he heard me. His eyes fell shut as he rested his head in Richard’s lap, his breaths softened into nothing as Richard ran his vanishing fingers through the boy’s hair.

“It’s alright,” Richard said, a soft, contented smile on his face as he watched the boy. “It’s so warm. I’ve missed the sun.”

Finally, his body could no longer sustain him, and he fell away completely into dust. The boy lay alone with a pile of clothes. Unable to bring myself to leave him, I reached into the light and snatched him out of it.

It felt wrong to hold him, but nothing felt right anymore. Ducking into the still-shadowed alleys, I returned to the square where I’d left Wataru and the wolves. No signs of them remained. With the sun bearing down on me, I was left with no other choice but to hide away in the home with the flowers in the window. I had to return there anyway. I couldn’t deny my brother his last request.

The door was open, and the darkened staircase was an inviting reprieve from the blinding sunlight. As I carried the boy down, I felt the echoing drum of heartbeats. My family must have found the safe house as well, allowing me to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t until I reached the bottom of the steps that I noticed the two forms huddled in the corner of an open cell. They were much too small to be my family, yet their hearts beat as mine. Gido must have turned others, then.

That explained why Richard wanted me to come back, to take care of Gido’s newbloods, the poor things.

Settling the boy’s body on the floor, I crept toward the cowering forms. With no idea how they might react to me, I had to be prepared for a fight.

“Are you awake?” I called, my voice raw and hardly recognizable as my own. “Excuse me, I mean no harm.”

One of their heads popped up from being buried against the other, and a growl began. Just as the thought of a feral rang in my mind, it tackled me to the ground. Brown eyes hung over my own, tips of blond hair prickling my cheeks. He reared back to slash at me.

“Daiba,” I said as though the name were foreign to me. His hand froze in the air. “Daiba… Tadashi Daiba…” I couldn’t find anything else to say but his name, over and over. Perhaps that would make it real.

“It’s me, Daiba. Harlock. Captain.”

Of course, he didn’t understand. If anything, he found my scent familiar. His eyes remained fogged, his lips drawn into a snarl. I moved slowly so as not to startle him, bringing my hand up to my mouth to tear open my palm with my fangs.

He perked up at that, leaning down to latch onto my hand without hesitation. He gnawed on me like a dog chewing a bone, just like he always had. Daiba. This was Daiba.

He gave a yelp as I sat up and threw my arm around him. Despite his hissing and struggling, I buried my face in his hair. The smell of him brought back a torrent of memories, of the way he’d sneak into my bed or lounge in my lap like a lazy cat.

“My little Daiba,” I hummed as I found myself crying again. This made him still. His growls warbled into purrs. I must have held him for hours, until he fell asleep once more.

I would have been content to remain like that all day, having someone to hold onto once more. But my head snapped up as I suddenly recalled the other one. His heartbeat tipped me off, a frantic trill. He must have woken and noticed me because he’d pressed himself into the corner, clutching his head for protection.

Daiba gave a grumble as I set him down. It seemed he truly hadn’t changed from the clingy newblood I remembered. “Hang on,” I said. “I’ll be just a moment.”

As I eased closer to the other one, his trembling increased to violent tremors. Definitely another feral. “It’s alright,” I called regardless. “I won’t harm you.” Flexing my hand broke open the wound again, and I held it out to the boy.

But he turned and slammed his back further into the corner, terrified of my outstretched hand.

He looked so certain I would hurt him.

Yama.

My Yama.

I fell to my knees in front of him as he tried to fuse himself with the stone at his back. “Yama,” I breathed. “Yama, it’s me.”

But when I reached for him, he screamed, bringing his hands up between us for protection. It was like a knife to the chest. Daiba appeared then, pressing himself to Yama’s side and purring like a roll of thunder. Perhaps Yama imagined him like Mii-kun, as he clung to Daiba in a frightened daze.

As much as I longed to hold them both and to ease Yama’s fears, my exhaustion was catching up to me. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d slept properly, and crying had left me drained. “Ah, liebling,” I sighed only to realize my English had failed me. A quick shake of my head cleared the blur from my vision for a moment. “Please be here when I wake,” I said as I settled myself to the ground beside them.

I must not have looked threatening that way to Yama because Daiba’s purring infected him. It made for a nice symphony to help ease me into sleep. By some miracle, I had no nightmares.

And by some greater miracle, I found them both snuggled into my grasp when I next opened my eye. Some sound had woken me, but I let my eye fall shut again. The mumbled voices I heard were familiar enough to give me no cause for alarm.

I heard yelling soon after, enough that I could only pretend to still sleep. And pretend I did. Daiba was growling about something, but Yama remained close enough that I could smell flowers with each breath.

“Harlock!” Tochiro snapped, loud enough to break through to me. “Wake up!”

“No,” I said.

“We’ll have to carry him back,” Emeraldas said.

“What about Daiba?”

“Zero can get him.”

“He’s going to rip Zero’s throat out.”

“I doubt Zero will mind.”

“He won’t! And that’s the problem.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m not here,” Zero snapped.

A smile tugged at my lips. I felt far too heavy to move. Even speaking felt impossible, but I managed some slurred attempt at communication. “S���everyone alright?”

“I guess?” Tochiro said. “Léopard and the others are helping get your dad, Wataru, and the wolves back to the ships. What, uh, happened to Gido?”

“Gone.”

“Oh… well then we’d better, um-”

“Promethium called a meeting,” Zero said over him.

My eye snapped open. “What?”

“It seems she found out the Lords were congregating here without her, and she didn’t care for it. She’s on her way. Léopard is shaking in his boots.”

That would be Hell to deal with. With everything else going on, I didn’t need that too. “Can I… just sleep now?” I sighed.

Zero laughed. “Go ahead. Rest. We’ll take care of you for now.”

As my eye fell shut once more, I saw Daiba gnawing on his hand. Of course, I could leave things to him and the others. Neither Tochiro nor Zero had ever let me down. All would be well.

At least until Promethium arrived.

[pyrocephalus-rubinus]

Crowley convinces Aziraphale to go to a desert to stretch their wings, but they are seen by people working on some Nazca Lines. Their last interaction went wrong after Crowley suggested the arrangement in Wessex. Will they be able to sort it out and have a good time?

A short story full of fluffy feelings and my excuse to design some Nazca Lines for both of them.

Ever wondered how Crowley and Aziraphale would be depicted as Nazca Lines? Probably not, but I'm from Peru and love the idea of inserting them in different periods when different cultures in my country where thriving.

This is my first fic ever!! (Not taking into account poems). I didn't expect it to be, but I really wanted to share these designs. I think they look really sweet and that if they "were discovered" a lot of chaos would ensue in the archaeological world.

This fic includes some things from the Nazca Culture, and you can find out more about how wonderful, creative and intelligent the Nazcas were clicking on some links I added in the fic's end notes.

Hope you enjoy!

[rikumorimachisgirl]

Title: Eyes on you

Pairing: Shaw x You

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,901

A/N: You (Y/N) are not the MC in MLQC. This is a plunny that's been bugging me for quite a while, I had to write it. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or its characters, but I do own the concept of this fic.

There were a few mysteries in this world that the esteemed Archeology Graduate Professors at Loveland University can't explain - for instance, the formation of the Stonehenge, the exact location of the lost city of Atlantis, the origin of the Nazca lines… and your presence at the Metro Art Gala dressed to the nines, positively gleaming as you strode arm in arm with your classmate and Thesis partner Shaw, who seemed like the perfect gentleman that evening. Thanks to your work at the Loveland Museum, you scored two invites to the gala featuring the recently discovered works of a well-known artist - an event any Archeology fanatic wouldn't let pass. The two of you walked along with LFG's Exhibition Hall, pausing occasionally to admire one of the recently discovered sculptures by the Renaissance artist D'Romani. As you both looked at the intricacies of the artwork in front of you, your charming companion would lean in slightly and whisper something in your ear, causing you to roll your eyes or stifle a giggle. 

To the guests in the prestigious gala, the two of you looked like two young people at the cusp of falling in love, but the members of the Faculty of the Graduate School of Archeology saw it differently - this was a real-life mystery if they'd seen one. 

As your eyes swiftly swept through the entire room, you could see that your professors only had one question in mind - how'd this happen? How did two people as different as day and night, who argued with each other throughout Graduate studies, end up amiably enjoying each other's company tonight? 

You drew a sharp breath and sighed. The answer was simple: Your Thesis defense was right around the corner. You needed him to cooperate, you were willing to go to great lengths to make it happen. And your Thesis partner (unfortunately) was ready to take full advantage of the situation. 

***

"Tell me why we're doing this again, " you said through the door that separated you and your date, as you were putting on the dress you bought (or invested on, as he casually stated) for tonight's gala, which he insisted on attending with you. It was six in the evening on a Friday, and you had just arrived home after cramming your workload at the Loveland Museum and foregoing your meal breaks just so you could leave work at exactly five-thirty. 

"I already told you a couple of times - you want me to cooperate with you so you can pass our Thesis, and I need a reason to be around her," the purple-haired man waiting at the other side of your bedroom door called out nonchalantly. "You can drop your fantasy about me asking you out because I'm attracted to you."

You hissed silently at his snarky remark and counted to ten. You haven't even left your apartment yet you already wanted this night to be over. "How do you even know she's gonna be there?"

She - the Miracle Finder Producer, the object of your Thesis Partner's fantasies, and as fate would have it, his brother's girlfriend. 

"They're doing a show featuring our Thesis adviser. Didn't he tell us about it during our last consultation?" He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I wasn't listening," you shot back, as you took off your ponytail and started styling your hair with your curling iron. You chose a one-shoulder fitted black dress that stops right above your knees, so you thought of wearing your hair down for a change. 

"Ah, yes. You were too busy looking at your notes, trying to prove me wrong as always."

You closed your eyes, as you continued to make big beach waves and prayed to the gods you wouldn't commit murder tonight. 

"How much longer are you gonna take?"

"Excited much?" You asked, smirking while you now removed your glasses and put on your contacts. "You sound like a teenager excited to see his crush in a school fair!"

"Don't compare me to you!" 

"I don't have designs on anyone in the party," you called back. "Unless your brother's attending the event, that is. From what you've been telling me, he seems like a great guy."

Silence. You arched an eyebrow as you strained your ear to listen for any sign of life outside your bedroom door. What must your grunge-rock skater boy-turned-date-for-the-evening be thinking? 

"Do you want to pass our Thesis or not?"

You struck a victory pose at his remark. Finally, one point - you, Shaw - about twenty. 

"Are you done yet? This suit is really uncomfortable. Damn, why do people even wear these?"

"Because they're decent?" You shot back. "You know, you can always go home if you're not comfortable in your attire because when we get there, you need to act decent, too. Can't have your usual swagger in a formal affair."

"Just hurry it up already!"

You rolled your eyes as you applied your nude-colored lipstick to finish off your look before putting on your black stilettos, and stuffing your phone, wallet, and your makeup in your purse. 

"All done," you replied, as you finally emerged from your room. 

***

A part of you wished that the dynamics between you and Shaw were different. While he was a pain in the neck, and too carefree for his own good, you also thought he made for a good intellectual sparring partner, quite attractive, and it was hard to deny that he's got your heart beating double-time whenever he got too close for comfort like he was at that very moment. 

"My, you two kids seem to be having fun tonight."

You gasped, at the sound of the voice behind you, and you felt your date nudge you ever-so-subtly while straightening.

"Hey, Professor Adler," he said in his usual unruffled tone, his lips stretched into a smirk as he held his hand out to your Anthropology professor and Thesis adviser, who watched you both amusedly. His gesture made your eyes shot wide open, you thought they'd fall right off. Shaw shaking someone's hand? That's one for the books. 

"Shaw. Fancy seeing you here," the stout middle-aged man greeted while shaking your date's hand. "This isn't your usual scene though."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't exactly turn a pretty lady down, can I?" 

"I can see that," your professor said as he looked at you appraisingly. "Well, well, you clean up well, Miss (y/n)."

You fought the urge to squirm at the older man's words when you heard your date cluck his cheeks with his tongue and suddenly felt his arm around your shoulders, pressing you protectively close to his side. 

***

"All done!" You happily announced as you stepped into the living room of your small apartment where your date was impatiently waiting for you. 

You could've sworn he was stunned for a second or two before he shook his head and tried to regain his usual impassive expression. Finally, he stood and walked closer to assess you better. 

"You're not wearing your glasses. I thought you said you're practically blind without them?" 

You cocked your head to one side. Out of all the things he could've complimented or called out, that's the first thing he noticed? 

"Wouldn't it look awkward if I wore glasses to a formal event?"

"Your hair is all curly," he continued as if you didn't say anything. "And your shoes are so tall, won't you trip? Also, surely you have a jacket to go with that dress, right?" 

You stared at him in disbelief. Why did this carefree, bass-playing skater boy turn into your dad all of a sudden? 

"Uh…"

"Well, at least you're not wearing red lipstick. You don't have to try too hard to look sexy. Geez! I've got plans of my own this evening, so don't expect me to be your bodyguard," he continued to mumble as he circled around you. Before long, you felt something warm and heavy on your shoulder. His coat?

"It's just until we get to the venue," he shrugged as he led you to the car he borrowed for tonight. "I don't want people seeing you freeze to death."

You sighed, your shoulders slumped as you followed your date to the car. You already expected he wouldn't throw you a compliment for looking like a proper human tonight, and you cursed yourself for feeling gutted over it anyway. 

 ***

"So, which one of these sculptures did you like best, Professor?" You sighed in relief as Shaw changed the subject, his arm still wrapped around you, making you blush furiously. 

"Oh, I have to say I liked Eros and Psyche best. In case you haven't seen it yet, it's located a little further down the hall near the bar area," the older man was starting to explain when someone tapped his shoulder from behind. 

"Excuse me, Professor Adler," a gentle voice called out, making both the professor and Shaw jump. From behind the old man, a pretty petite with brown hair and big brown eyes, and the biggest smile on her face stepped up. "My name is MC from Miracle Finder."

Almost immediately, Shaw withdrew his arm around you, almost causing you to stagger backward. He straightened up and feigned disinterest. 

"Hey. It's a little rude how you stepped in while I was talking to the Professor," he said, his tone teasing. 

"Oh, I didn't notice you here. Do you mind if I talk to your Professor? We've invited him for an interview about the exhibit," the girl said sweetly. 

Based on how unconsciously coy she acted around Shaw, and the way he kept egging her, there was no doubt that this was the girl he was crushing on. You felt like the odd person out all of a sudden and needed to step away. 

You backed away slowly, careful not to rouse their attention because it would probably suck if you knew how Shaw would introduce you to his little crush. As soon as you were in a safe distance, you turned and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing briefly at paintings or sculptures that caught your fancy, looking at its intricacies as you did so earlier. But somehow, it wasn't as fun as it was before, so you moved on quickly, to give way to the other guests who also wanted to view the artwork.

Finally, you came upon the bar and decided to rest your tired feet at the far corner, hidden from the rest of the world. Sighing, you slipped your feet off your stilettos and quietly watched as the guests around you - mostly couples - happily chatting away as they enjoyed the beauty of the art around them and the wonderful music that filled the air. You knew somewhere in the crowd, your date was fawning over his lady love, probably getting in the way of her filming your professor. 

Tch. 

You knew he liked her - he always told you he did. And why wouldn't he? MC was pretty, seemingly sweet, and dainty - the kind of girl any guy would like to protect. And you. You were the opposite. You lived for your work, were 'one of the boys', and didn't need anyone to protect you - that's just how you were - and now you started to realize that maybe guys don't exactly like that. At least not Shaw. 

Wait, what were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you shook your head. Why were you even thinking of what he liked when you don't even like him to start with. Or did you? 

"Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?" You groaned when a cold bottle of beer and a frozen glass was placed in front of you. 

"I was gonna ask you that myself." 

You straightened up in your seat and shot a look at the guy seated beside you. Dressed in a nice grey suit, he smiled as he raised his beer bottle in front of you. 

"You look like you needed a drink. I hope the beer is okay. They don't have fruit beer or soda," he said calmly, his amber-colored eyes never leaving yours. 

"Y-yeah. Beer is perfect," you replied while pouring the amber liquid into the glass. "Thanks," you muttered before raising the glass to your lips to gulp down some liquid courage. 

"I saw you with Shaw earlier -"

The name on his lips drove you to a coughing fit, as you choked on your drink. "Sorry, " you mumbled in between coughs. 

"No, I'm sorry," the brown-haired guy said, as he cautiously and politely patted your back. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just curious."

"It's fine," you replied when you finally regained your composure. "Yes, we're just classmates in Grad school who decided to check this exhibit out for the heck of it."

"Classmates, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we are," you said, taking a sip off your glass. "Grad school classmates."

"Are you telling me or telling yourself?"

You looked up and saw him smiling. There was something about Dreamy McHandsome who was seated beside you that felt so familiar yet different at the same time, but you couldn't point a finger at what it was exactly. 

"We're classmates, and we're working on our thesis together. But we're not friends - far from it even. We hate each other's guts."

"Can't blame you for doing so," he shrugged as he drank his beer. 

"Yeah. He dragged me here so he can get with someone he's been crushing on for so long," you rambled on, frowning. 

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"The Miracle Finder Producer. You know, the pretty girl in a blue top and white skirt. He's been going on and on about her for weeks…"

"You mean my girlfriend?" 

His girlfriend. You choked on your drink once again. "Y-y-your girlfriend? You mean to say…" You gasped. Has the beer made you stupid? You've barely drunk half of it, you thought as you fought to regain your dignity. This was Shaw's brother you were talking to - and boy, we're they blessed with good genes…

… And the same social awkwardness, you noticed, judging by how he kept his hand at your back, but not exactly touching it, as if trying to assess if he had to pat you or not. 

When you finally calmed down, he cleared his throat and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. She talks to me about their conversations. I know what that guy is playing at, and I most definitely know he's not after my girl," he said, his voice broke no room for doubt. "My name is Gavin..."

"Yeah, I know…"

"You - what?"

"Oh," you said, tapping on your glass nervously. "Shaw kinda mentioned it in passing before."

"I see."

"So, what were you saying earlier about Shaw?"

"Oh. From what my girlfriend tells me, he's got his sights set on…"

"Ahem," you heard someone say loud enough for you and Gavin to turn your heads around. And there, standing behind you, was an angry-looking Shaw. You sat up, your gaze shifting between the two brothers as the air started to thicken with tension. "I talk to someone for a minute and the next thing I knew, my date walks out on me and right into the one person I'd hate for her to meet."

"Well, if you were just honest with her as with a lot of other things in your life, maybe she wouldn't have left your side earlier," Gavin retorted flippantly. "Is she finally done with filming?"

Shaw simply grunted in reply as he watched his older brother finish his bottle of beer and stand. "Well, Miss, there's a lot I've heard about you. Seems somebody couldn't stop talking about you, but I'll leave it at that." 

With a wink and a mischievous smile upon his face, the brown-haired guy sauntered off to look for his better half, as you and Shaw watched in awkward silence. 

He cleared his throat and glanced at you. "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, shakily. 

"So, about what that jerk said -"

"Yes?" You asked, feeling your heart hammer against your chest by the second.

"Whatever he said is not true," he said dismissively, as he took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders. "I told you before, I don't find you the least bit attractive."

You felt tears starting to sting your eyes, as he continued with his harsh commentary. "You're tough, highly opinionated, and you always want to come out on top. I don't find those attractive at all," he said. "I prefer a damsel in distress. I want someone clingy… someone, needy."

"I know that -"

"Oh do you?" He teased, his amber eyes twinkling. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"We've been working together for months now," you said. "Of course, I'd know more about you."

"I see," he said, as he took a step closer to you and touched your cheek, rubbing the stray tear that had managed to slip down the side of your face. "So, you must know I'm also a good liar. After all, I've kept all these feelings to myself for quite some time."

He snickered when he saw your frown deepen and he bent down just as he had done so earlier, to whisper. "I made you think I liked someone else when in fact," his low voice made you shiver. "I've always eyes for you."

The End.

[majesticnerdyvee]

Where the Northwind Meets the Sea 

by VeeTheRee (me)

A Sherlock Merfolk/Landfolk AU a.k.a mer!lock

Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Merfolk/Landfolk AU, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John Watson, Mute Sherlock, Healer John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Protective John, Angst and Romance, Magic-Users, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Worldbuilding, Mystery, Case Fic, John Has a Beard Relationships: Johnlock, Mystrade Summary:  In a world where the oceans are the size of common-known continents and the land spans over the gigantic sizes of oceans as we know them, the human race is divided among two opposites: the landfolk and the merfolk. John Watson, a healer and a courier, is just returning through the Nazca Plate near the Southern Ocean back North, but by chance he catches a smuggler that has kidnapped a merfolk. The creature in question - Sherlock - has found himself on land without his magic and is essentially helpless. But how did he end up outside of his natural habitat, why isn't he the only one, and why won't he tell John what happened? There's no other option than to bring the wounded merfolk with him, heal him, and along the way, get to know him better. Hopefully they will solve the puzzle of the disappearing merfolk together.

Chapters: 6/40 (approximately) 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|

[yana125]

MCOG S4E17

Spoilers, of course.

After some thinking... Is Rana Ori the leader of the other six guardians? Is Zia her descendant? WHO. IS. ZIA'S. MOTHER!? (I feel like if she inherited anything, it's from her mother.)(Esteban also! I think his mother was a descendant of Mu.)

Is... Is the Seventh City a spaceship? I want it to be a spaceship because I had a really great (debatable) fic idea where the people of Mu and Atlantis originally lived on Mars and Venus (as allies) but the Olmecs (aliens) destroyed their homeworld and they had to move to Earth, but they go into a fight eventually because instead of two seperate planets they now had to live on one, of course there would be conflicts. Then skip to the year 30xx and the main characters are descendants of the main characters (and humanity is living on both Venus and Mars so they can search for ancient ruins there too) and they need to fight the Olmecs who are getting closer to the solar system like that meteorite (or asteroid?), and the spaceship is hidden under the astronaut on the Nazca plateau. So in one hand I want there to be a spaceship. On the other...?

Now I'm imagining the Seventh City as Atlantis from Stargate...

Was that a red handprint on the wall? A red handprint? Seriously? Can't I just have a break from my other hyperfixation? It has to haunt me in this hyperfixation too?

Musiiiiiiiic!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 With old sounds!!!!!!! <3

And the bridge music is nice too <3

MORE handprints!? ( ╯°□°)╯ ┻━━┻

The mask is planning something. I don't know how and what, but it's planning something.

Mendoza: Stop panicing! There's something we can do. Mendoza: ... Mendoza: Right? Tao: Haha! Yeah! Of course! (￣▽￣)

I know this is a kids' show made by Europeans and everyone will probably survive this whole series. But if it was made only in Japan, I'm 100% certain one of the kids wouldn't survive the finale. I can't tell which one because all three of them has a significant arc (Esteban - Atlantis, Zia - her powers, Tao - last descendant of Mu). Japanese kids' shows are not shy like Western kids' shows.

So the meteorite will cause an eclipse or something?

Of course it was a Disney fakeout death. Please don't give him a redemption arc. Aaaaaand now he can heal himself =_= Wonderful.

Guys, I'm rolling my eyes so hard, I'll fall off my chair soon. (In other words, Gaspard please stop...)

Óóóóóóóóó!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nature is so beautiful. And scary.

ÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There will be an explosion??!! O___O

[thenihilistofthevoid]

Small Fic

For @the-winter-dork-rp , @kitameguire , @frosthawkfantasy and @kudocookie with special mention to @verratenduo

A small fic split into two, the focus being on codewords. Part 1: Marvel Cinematic Universe, set during Civil War when Bucky’s codewords are activated by Zemo, an insight into Bucky’s thoughts and what it’s like for the Winter Soldier when the coding is active and Bucky’s desperate struggle to be free from the coding, watching from inside his own head as he hurts those he considers friends. He’s unaware of Zemo’s intent to use him to destroy the Avengers and is terrified that he can be reactivated so easily. Part 2: Yugioh 5Ds, set 20 years post end of series during a second Dark Signer vs Signer War after the seal between our dimension and the underworld is broken by a quantum experiment. Saburo Izayoi duels Chihiro Akagi, Chihiro has been manipulated by the Earthbound God that brought her back to life to hate Saburo, her memories being altered to believe that he killed her parents with his psychic powers. Saburo is unaware that his mentor is the leader of a dangerous cult and has installed programming into his head to make him a mindless killing machine with one sentence. The fic represents how both of them have been abused by a dangerous organization and turned into a living weapon. The 5Ds one is longer but that’s due to me knowing more about the series and needing to explain a lot more. Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe. Subject: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. Alias: The Winter Soldier. Location: [Classified], 2016. Codewords: Longing – Rusted – Furnace – Daybreak – Seventeen – Benign – Nine - Homecoming – One - Freight Car “You feel that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop…” Zemo offered, wanting to manipulate the position to his advantage. He just needed them to open the box and soon he could have the revenge he sought. His wife was gone, his son too… They had to be destroyed from the inside, all of them. The so-called enhanced, the Avengers lacked any compassion for the lives they destroyed. The tablet nearby beeped, the delivery was successful and now it could begin. “Don’t worry… We only have to talk about one.” The man stated, giving Bucky the impression he wasn’t really a psychologist, there was an ulterior motive here. Would the others watching this be able to notice it like he did or were they too busy looking for a way to punish him to see the truth… Leaving would be nice but it would make life harder for Steve, who was important to him or at least from what he could remember. His memories were a scattered mess, incomplete fragments like puzzle pieces without a guide to show you how it all was supposed to fit together, it made the supersoldier so angry deep down. The lights were down, the show was about to begin. “Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania, and certainly not Brooklyn…” Zemo continued, going into the messenger bag and retrieving a red book with a black star on it. He’d obtained the code words to transform the man from the Brooklynite Farm Boy into Hydra’s fist, their homegrown killing machine.“Желание.” Zemo started reading the words to Bucky’s horror. “Stop…” He snapped, trying to break the restraints he was put into. “Семнадцать. Ржавый. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на Родину. Один. Товарный вагон.” Zemo continued, his Russian was rusty to say the least and the threat of this man ripping his head off was a real possibility. Struggling hard to punch the door down and rip his vocal chords out before he could say the last words, the door flew from it’s hinges a few seconds too late as the logic programming in his head activated, his blue eyes going cold and dark like the cryogenics chamber he’d been locked in before to freeze him for further use. “Cолда́т?” Zemo asked, wondering if it had worked. He’d broken free of the mental conditioning before, was it taking a while to activate? “Я готов отвечать.” Came the reply, it had worked. “Mission Report, December 16th 1991.” The man asked. The rampage soon began as the coding worked, his memories flashing back as it continued operations, he knew what he had to do as he fought without emotion, taking down all resistance that would stop him reaching the helicopter as his thoughts became single-file, pure logic overriding all. Love, pride, hate, fear, anger. All emotions were suppressed along with all memories not relating to his orders, the Winter Soldier was laser-focused on his task at hand, unaware his activation had a more malevolent purpose than just to cause havoc as his metal fist slammed into Sam’s stomach without any remorse, concrete shattering from his punches. The sonic weapon fired at him caused the man brief pain but pain was ignored, adrenaline rising to 50% and increasing. His gun was disabled but a punch to the gut took Tony down, not that the Winter Soldier cared who he fought, all those who opposed him were to be destroyed. Sharon was soon put through a table and Natasha felt the cold metal grip around her throat, T’Challa was enhanced and had to be destroyed too. Perhaps he also had access to the serum, they could find out when autopsy came in. Not even Steve caused a disruption to the purity of his logic programming, it wasn’t breaking down yet due to being recently activated. The other personality, Bucky hadn’t struggled enough to cause errors in the coding just yet. Maybe one day, he’d be free. But for now, once again he was the songbird trapped in a lernaean cage. Universe: Yugioh 5D’s, set 20 years after the end of the series. Subject: Saburo Izayoi (十六夜三朗). Alias: Black Rose Witch. Location: Satellite, Neo Domino City, Japan. Year Unknown. Codewords: “The entrance to the underworld is on the witch’s island.” He hadn’t asked for this, to become a pawn of destiny. Servant to the Crimson Dragon, a god that didn’t seem to give much of a shit about what happened so long as it’s chosen people, the Signers fought for it. Their allegiance to the deity marked by the birthmarks on their arms, he’d gained the claw on his right forearm like his mother before him, having inherited her psychic powers and aptitude for medicine. His powers to make the cards he used inflict real damage upon their world made him a social pariah, feared and hated by the rest of society. They wanted him to be a monster, so he became one. A violent, destructive youth who was frequently abused by the people who feared him. Death threats in the mail, stalkers, he once had a bucket of pig’s blood dumped over him in reference to Carrie. All that fame and money did nothing to stop the cyberbullying and the letters saying that he deserved to be locked away. His parents were never home, they were too busy with their nice paying jobs to notice how hard life was beating him down. His mother Aki was a doctor, too busy treating other children to notice that her own was suffering mentally. His father was a particle physicist, he provided power to a city but not the power to his only son to rise up against the systemic oppression. His parents saved the city and anything he did was just attributed to them, his individuality was irrelevant to these people. He was an extension, an accessory like the cars they drove or the house they lived in. Something to look pretty. So when the man who used to run the Arcadia Movement, he called himself Divine since his real name has no meaning to him anymore soon found the son of his first figurehead of the movement, Saburo Izayoi. He hadn’t inherited his mother’s pretty red hair but his powers were just as strong as hers, he would do nicely… The Arcadia Movement is a cult for psychic duelists like himself who had been ostracized from society turned to him and gave him the affection and love he craved, Saburo became so easy to manipulate, to bend to his will. Aki had escaped him but since Yusei had taken her from him, he would take their only child. He had gained her immensely strong powers and was going to make a fine soldier for the new movement, to turn people like them into soldiers so that they would run this society and those without their gifts would feel what it was like to be hated and harmed. Saburo’s latent powers were far too strong so they had to be controlled, put into a level where he could control them. But, sealing them permanently was never the intention. One sentence whispered in his ear and his true strength would be displayed to everyone, turning the emotionally damaged sixteen year old into a weapon of mass destruction. Unlike what he did with Aki, Divine kept his distance from the boy, only pulling the strings when required. A slave wasn’t a slave if he didn’t know he was enslaved after all. It happened all over again, the war of the gods with their human emissaries. The Earthbound Gods and the Crimson Dragon, their constant war for this planet. He had gotten involved in the last one twenty years ago and it cost him. He had every intention of making that bitch pay for what she did to him, her stupid deity had resulted in massive scarring on his face and being sent to the tyrannical prison system once he was caught but considering his young protégé had been drafted in he intended to make use of that, to once again show the power of psychic duelling against the emissaries of the underworld. The Dark Signers were dead people resurrected through the dark powers of the Earthbound Gods, brought back to fight against the chosen warriors of the dragon with fabricated grudges although this girl’s one seemed quite real.  The loser of these Duels involving dark magic lost their soul, a high-stakes game indeed. “You’re a murderer, Izayoi Saburo… You took my parents from me during your rampage in the Daimon area!” Chihiro screeched, the sclera of her eyes were black and she had red markings on her face, the purple outline of Nazca lines of the lizard on her left forearm, the lines being bindings upon the gods. The lines disappeared once the Earthbound Gods had chosen the person to represent them in this fight. “You’re lying!” He shook his head, her dark magic forcing those memories into him was painful. “The Arcadia Movement covers up all sorts of inconvenient truths. Neo Domino’s Police won’t even touch your organization due to the blackmail you have. They had powers like yours, your rampages got them evicted so they went to your organization. Your desire for destruction killed them. So, I’m going to kill you, the Servant of the Crimson Dragon!” The dead woman snapped coldly. “Your parents might have encountered me, but I didn’t know who they were! I didn’t know that they were involved in that incident!” He pleaded, his memories unsure. He changed his last name to his mother’s maiden name to avoid being hounded constantly. “You involved them unwittingly, don’t you dare think that excuses you!” The girl shouted, tears falling down her face. “I can’t…” The boy mumbled, his glasses misty with his own tears. “After my parents died, I… couldn’t take it. The world without them was so wretched. So I jumped from Daedalus Bridge into the water. You killed me as well!” Chihiro shouted, shaking with anger as she made him relive it. “NO! STOP IT!” Saburo screamed in pain as she forced him to watch, stumbling back. “I can’t fight… She has good reason to hate me… It’s my fault that she and her parents…” He thought to himself, stumbling back and tumbling towards a large shard of metal that threatened to cut into his spine and paralyze him when he was suddenly caught. “Pull yourself together, Izayoi!” A voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter, a man in a police uniform, the hat covering his face. “Who are you…?” Saburo asked, trying to wipe his glasses. “I’m on your side.” The man explained. “My side?” He replied, confused and in pain “It’s me, Saburo.” Taking off his hat, the man revealed his identity as Divine, the cult leader who had bewitched him unknowingly. “Divine, you’re alive?” Saburo asked, happy that his “mentor” was still okay after the man faked his own death to get the police to back off. “Now Saburo, fight.” He stated, still holding him as he kicked the metal away. “I can’t…” The boy pleaded. “Yes, you can. Your original latent abilities was far too strong, so I sealed those powers without your knowledge. Now is the time to unseal them and release your true powers.” The redheaded cult leader explained, bending down to whisper in Saburo’s ear. “And the words to awaken them are…” He stated, his breath hot against the boy’s ear. “The entrance to the underworld is on the witch’s island.” He whispered with a smirk as Saburo stood obediently, a tornado of wind forming around him and whipping the shards of metal and glass from the abandoned funfair into the air like a rain of destruction. “Yes, that’s good! Now defeat her! Your true powers are far superior to that of the Dark Signers!” The man laughed as the tornado intensified around the boy whose glasses were torn off by the shockwave and landed in the dirt several feet away, after several seconds the storm emanating from him died down. “Have you finally revealed your true identity?” Chihiro asked, a cold look on her face. “I am the Black Rose Witch. The only one disappearing from this world… will be you.” Saburo stated, his voice cold and robotic as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of insanity and cold rage, his black irises boring into her like twin singularities, bringing destruction to whatever they gazed upon. “Battle. Sunvine Dragon attacks Bad End Queen Dragon! Poison Inferno!” He ordered, snapping his fingers as the huge tree-like dragon snarled and hissed, opening it’s mouth and blasting a gigantic stream of red-hot fire at the other dragon which burnt instantly, the flames blowing massive chunks of earth into the air and burning Chihiro’s clothing which she put out through dark magic, her arms and face showed third-degree burns, she screamed as she still felt pain due to the power of the Earthbound Gods although it was highly reduced. (Chihiro 3400 – 1800 LP) Chihiro’s scream of pain just made Saburo laugh, whatever the unsealing had done to him it had clearly given him a taste for sadism. “Let me hear more of it, your agony as I consign you back to the depths of hell.” Saburo mocked cruelly, the birthmark on his arm shone with a red light as his breathing became heavy. “That’s it Saburo, eliminate all in our way. You and I are going to resurrect the Arcadia Movement.” The man laughed coldly, having complete control over the boy at this point.

[proto-language]

Gentlemen Bastards and 1789 for the fandom thing?

Thank you so much!!

Gentleman Bastard Sequence

Favourite Male Character

Kinda generic but I have to say Locke Lamora, closely followed by the Sanza twins, who probably would’ve been my faves if they’d been allowed to live for more than half a book. Locke’s just such an interesting character: so smart and so stupid at the same time, a thief and occasionally a killer but also a pretty dedicated priest in his own way, able to talk his way out of just about any situation (and to hang on til Jean can save him when he can’t) but also awful at talking about his own feelings. As for Calo and Galdo; more than anything, they just made me laugh, but their care for Locke and Jean and Bug was so sweet, even when it manifested itself in the form of a threat to knock Locke out and drag him out of Camorr if they had to to get him out of danger.

Favourite Female Character

This one’s a little bit harder. I think I’d currently say Ezri Delmastro, but I’m also only halfway through Red Seas Under Red Skies (I’m like 99% sure things aren’t going to end well for her), and so haven’t actually met Sabetha yet. She’s so funny and scary and yet sweet, and frankly she and Jean deserve each other, and I can’t currently remember any specific thing she did because my memories of RSURS are weirdly foggy compared to TLOLL, but................ she. Also, I loved Nazca a lot, but again she didn’t really live long enough for me to get attached to her in the way I am to others.

Least Favourite Character

I mean, there are plenty of choices. The fucking Grey King/Capa Raza is one of them, obviously. Outside of obvious antagonists, frankly I’d have to say Sabetha right now. It’s not that I dislike anything about her or her character (or at least what I’ve heard of it), but just that it’s been a book and a half and we’ve heard Locke and Jean and the Sanzas and Locke again going on about her, and never had a single scene with her - I’m sure there’s probably a point to it, but I’m dense, and so it just annoys me.

Favourite Ship

Hmm, I guess I’d have to say Jean and Locke - I’m not actually particularly interested in shipping for this series? The fanart and fics for them are really cute though!

Favourite Friendship

Obviously just the whole dynamic of the Gentlemen Bastards - Jean, Locke, Calo and Galdo’s brotherhood, the way they work together and tease each other and ultimately would do anything for each other. The way they all mentor Bug, constantly take the piss out of him, but in the end he was becoming like a younger brother to them all too. The way that, in RSURS, Jean (eventually) knows exactly what to do to help Locke and get him to start living again. Yes, this is something I think about at least twice a day.

Favourite Quote

Oh man, there’s a lot. The whole liars and bastards ritual:“‘I only steal because my dear old family needs the money to live!’ [...]‘Liar!’ they chorused.‘I only steal because this wicked world won’t let me work an honest trade!’ Calo cried, hoisting his own glass.‘LIAR!’‘I only steal because I have to support my poor lazy twin brother, whose indolence broke our mother’s heart!’ Galdo elbowed Calo as he made this announcement.‘LIAR!’‘I only steal,’ said Jean, ‘because I’ve temporarily fallen in with bad company.’‘LIAR!’At last the ritual came to Bug; the boy raised his glass a bit shakily and yelled, ‘I only steal because it’s heaps of fucking fun!’‘BASTARD!’“

And its reprise before Locke has to pretend to be the Grey King, which is too long to reasonably put here. And, of course, “Nice bird, arsehole”, because Locke has never ever just kept his goddamn mouth shut.

Worst Character Death

Literally all of them!!!!!!!!!!! I’m fine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m totally over it all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In particular, Calo and Galdo and Bug, who I feel I can count as one, because it was one scene. Calo and Galdo because they were my favourites, and it was so damn unexpected - I genuinely thought it was some kind of joke or trick they’d played, until Bug was killed as well. Bug’s death was just so sad in every way: he was only a kid, he doubted his place among the Bastards, Locke was trying so so hard to reassure him and yet he couldn’t. Nazca gets an honourable mention, for both horrificness and shock factor

“This made me so happy you have no idea” moment

Again, the liars and bastards ritual, because it was one of the best moments of interaction between the five of them, and it was so funny and so heartwarming at the same time - pretty much the closest we got to “domestic” life, tied with some of the scenes from Locke’s childhood. Also, the very last few pages. Locke and Jean reflecting on their friendship, their losses, and how shit Locke’s real name is, whatever it may be (I’m still genuinely dying to know)

Saddest Moment

Tie between Calo/Galdo/Bug’s deaths, and the second-to-last-ish scene, after Locke’s killed the Grey King and Jean finds him, bleeding out, and Locke gets all “Jean you gotta leave me here to DIE I’ve MESSED UP I can’t GET UP so DON’T BOTHER” and Jean just picks him up and calls him an idiot.

Favourite Location

Is is valid to say all of Camorr? It’s just such an awesome setting, so vibrant and full of life and wonderful and horrible, and I only realised when I started reading RSURS that it feels like home, and I’m so sad we probably won’t get to go back there.

1789

Favourite Male Character

Mmm, I’m tempted to say Lazare - he’s just one of the most interesting, and easiest to speculate/imagine about, being neither a historical figure nor a main character. His relationship with Ronan is always interesting to think about too - it probably also helps that Nous Ne Sommes is highkey one of the best songs from the musical imo!

Favourite Female Character

Would it be bad if I genuinely said Charlotte? I love Olympe and I love Solène, but Charlotte’s just like... this random sassy child who interferes in Olympe and Ronan’s love life and apparently hangs out with Danton on the regular, and that’s just very iconic of her.

Least Favourite Character

I mean, I have a love-hate relationship with Ronan (like someone else we know. possibly a few people, to be honest. possibly everyone who knows him). Frankly, I see a lot of myself in his tendency to shout and get angry and accidentally mess up with his sister, but they’re also not sides of myself that I like. But I do admire his willingness to stand up and fight for something he believes in, which is something I lack despite all my anger, and I’m still pretty attached to him. I don’t know if he’s my least favourite, but he’s certainly most interesting to write about in that respect.

Favourite Ship

I’d say Lazare and Ronan, with Olympe and Solène a close second. Ronan and Lazare and Olympe and Solène are both couples with such different circumstances, and it makes it really interesting to think of the ways they would (or wouldn’t) work around and overcome that.

Favourite Friendship

Is it valid to say Danton and Charlotte, because that was honestly sweet. Otherwise, I feel Ronan and Olympe, despite being pretty bland romantically at best, would’ve made a really awesome friendship. Unfortunately, 1789: Les Amis de la Bastille, isn’t such a catchy title apparently

Favourite Quote

Not so much a quote, but the reading of the Declaration-Whose-Name-I-Can’t-Recall-Right-Now at the end generally makes me cry, as does “Je veux sourire à tes erreurs”, etc in Pour la peine, because I am Soft and Weak, despite Ronan and Olympe being such an uninspiring couple

Worst Character Death

Ronan/Olympe, I suppose? Did anyone else die?? No death actually affected me too much emotionally

“This made me so happy you have no idea” moment

Ronan and Lazare/Louis and Matthieu’s hug during Pour la peine, and generally all of Au palais royal

Saddest Moment

I’ve surprised myself, actually, by initially thinking of Je vous rends mon âme -  that’s my initial reaction, but I’m not actually sure what my saddest moment would be. As much as I love it, 1789 has never really emotionally killed me quite the same way MOR does?

Favourite Location

The staging of the storming of the Bastille is super cool, let’s be honest.

[aquawatt]

Las Chicas Super Poderosas: Caminando Hacia El Futuro.

El término fanfiction o fan fiction (literalmente, “ficción de fans”), a menudo abreviado fanfic o simplemente fic, hace referencia a relatos de ficción escritos por fans de una obra literaria o dramática (ya sea película, novela, programa de televisión, videojuego, anime…). En estos relatos se utilizan los personajes, situaciones y ambientes descritos en la historia original o de creación propia del autor de fanfic, y se desarrollan nuevos papeles para estos.

ATENCIÓN: La historia es de mí propiedad y los edtis. Sin embargo, el diseño de los personajes no son míos, la artista que los trajo a la vida pueden encontrarla en Instagram bajo el nombre de @leecheedoodles. Sus personajes me inspiraron a hacer esta historia así que, si les gusta, llamo a que no solo la sigan sino que pasen por su Patreon para apoyarla.

Sinopsis

Las Chicas Superpoderosas crecieron, ya no son más unas niñas dulces. Ahora una importante organización de super héroes se contactó con El Profesor para reclutarlas y las tres se ven obligadas a tomar una decisión muy difícil... ¿Ser heroínas de talle mundial o vivir una vida normal? ¿Cómo decidir si, recién ahora, notaban que nunca habían vivido realmente? Tantos años luchando contra los malvados de su propia ciudad las hizo darse cuenta que olvidaron completamente sus propias experiencias. Ahora las invadía una sed que desconocían... "Las Chicas Superpoderosas" ahora solo querían ser... "Chicas"

En una situación similar estaban aquellos tres diablillos que, luego de años causando alborotos, se encuentran directamente contra la espada y la pared... la vida adulta vino a golpearles la puerta y una nueva revuelta de villanos jóvenes también, solo que ahora no se trataba de robar un dulce a un niño o patear tachos de basura; Hablaban de robos a gran escala, secuestros y trafico. Ellos sabían que no tenían nada que perder, nadie tenía fe en que ellos podían cambiar... ¿o sí?

La vida adulta nunca fue fácil, pero siempre llega. Nuevas decisiones, caminos que se abren, lazos que comienzan a nacer y relaciones que nunca volverán a ser las mismas. ¿Tomar tu propio camino es correcto o egoísta? ¿Amar justifica los medios? ¿Podemos cambiar? ¿Qué hacer cuando lo que nos parecía correcto flaquea y lo que antes creíamos inimaginable se vuelve realidad? Todas estas preguntas llegaran a sus mentes tarde o temprano... ¿pero podrán todos ellos resistir la respuesta? A veces solo queda aceptarlo y caminar hacia el futuro.

Nota de Autora

Bueno, comencé mis estudios universitarios hace meses y estoy muy ocupada. Sin embargo, necesito escribir y vi esta oportunidad como una buena opción. La idea de este proyecto no es tanto hacer una historia lineal, sino pequeñas narraciones con estos personajes. Aun así, junto a cada título podré el número que le corresponda para que los nuevos lectores no se pierdan la continuidad.

No esperen que cada cierto tiempo publique una nueva parte, la idea es hacerlo cuando me nazca y tenga tiempo.

Iré subiendo la presentación de los personajes en otra públicacion. Espero que lo disfruten!!

Nos estamos leyendo! Bye!

[ao3feed-johnlock]

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2YmYHmR

by VeeTheRee

In a world where the oceans are the size of common-known continents and the land spans over the gigantic sizes of oceans as we know them, the human race is divided among two opposites: the landfolk and the merfolk. John Watson, a healer and a courier, is just returning through the Nazca Plate near the Southern Ocean back North, but by chance he catches a smuggler that has kidnapped a merfolk. The creature in question - Sherlock - has found himself on land without his magic and is essentially helpless. But how did he end up outside of his natural habitat, why isn't he the only one, and why won't he tell John what happened? There's no other option than to bring the wounded merfolk with him, heal him, and along the way, get to know him better. Hopefully they will solve the puzzle of the disappearing merfolk together.

Words: 3097, Chapters: 1/20, Language: English

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes), Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Merfolk/Landfolk AU, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John Watson, Mute Sherlock, Healer John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Protective John, Angst and Romance, Magic-Users, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Worldbuilding, Mystery, Case Fic

September 01, 2021 at 09:14PM

[uncuentofriki]

Y te daré el mundo.

De nuevo no hay mariachi. Pero le dije de broma a mi hermana una vez “quiero una versión mariachi de Dear Theodosia (del musical Hamilton), porque imagino perfectito a Héctor cantándola”.   Este se enlaza a El milagro de tus ojos.

-Héctor, me vas a hacer un pinche callo de tanto que me frotas la panza.- se quejó Imelda. Su esposo estaba acurrucado a su lado y no paraba de cantarle ni de acariciar su ya bastante prominente barriga. Tenía los tobillos hinchadísimos y se veía cansada, pero cada mañana él no paraba de asegurarle que se veía preciosa, a lo cual ella respondía que claro que para él se veía preciosa, si le decía lo contrario le tiraría la bota directo a la cabeza. Todos estaban haciendo sus apuestas a adivinar si el bebé sería niño o niña. La mamá de Imelda apostaba por niño y ya había tejido decenas de chambritas en rosa, la de Héctor quería una niña porque siempre había soñado con una niña a la cual sacar a la plaza con vestiditos de holanes, así que había comenzado a tejer en azul. Que si su barriga era medio aplanada en vez de redonda, así que seguro era niño o que no, que era al revés. 

Y un día ella estaba muy tranquila cantando “Albricias” mientras bordaba. Una de sus primas, aún soltera, le estaba ayudando con la casa porque ya no se podía mover mucho, cuando de pronto comenzó a sentir molestias, como los cólicos que sufría. Decidió ignorarlos. El bebé se movía demasiado en su interior y más al oír la voz de su papá. Y siguió cantando como una alondra.

No me pidas que te quiera Porque te estoy adorando Y solo digo pensando Que tu amor es primavera

Lo que sí notaba, es que le estaban dando más ganas de ir al baño. -Oye, Lupita, ya no me traigas más agua de jamaica, que quiero acabar esta sabanita antes de que nazca mi chamaco.- le comentó a su prima.

-’Tas pendeja, Imelda- le replicó esta, barriendo las hojas-. Los bebés nadan ahi dentro, ocupan agua.  Pero pronto la incomodidad se volvió mayor. Y en la última ida al baño de Imelda, salió asustadísima de la letrina. Estaba pálida como los muros de su casa.

-Háblale a mi mamá o a quien pueda venir, que se me salió algo bien raro ahorita. 

Ni necesidad tuvo de poner pie en la casa una mujer más experimentada en cosas de la vida, porque apenas llegar Lupita y explicar qué había visto Imelda salírsele, todas las mujeres mayores corrieron por sábanas y luego corrieron hacia la casa de la parturienta. Uno de los primos de Imelda corrió a la plaza a buscar a Héctor.

-¡Héctor, Héctor!- gritó el chiquillo, trepándose hasta el kiosko, ganándose una mirada furiosa de Ernesto, que estaba a la mitad de una canción.

-¿Qué pasó, primo?- le saludó, más divertido que molesto por las prisas del niño.

-Quesque ya va a nacer su bebé, primo. Y casi se le cae la guitarra con las carreras de llegar a casa. Hasta Ernesto se olvidó por un momento de todo y corrió junto con su amigo.

El cuarto de ambos se transformó en sala de parto. Una prima bombeaba a toda prisa el agua a las ollas que otra ponía a  hervir con ciertas hierbas y otra llevaba el agua al cuarto. Era apenas media tarde.

-Al menos déjenme ver a mi mujer ¿No?- se quejó Héctor, cuando lo dejaron sentado en la sala.

-No, tú te quedas aquí.- le detuvo su propia madre y volvió a sentarlo en el sillón.- Si quieres canta, eso relajaría a Imelda, pero no muy alto porque ocupo oír los latidos de tu chamaca.

-No creo que vaya a ser niña.- comentó Ernesto-. Imelda está demasiado bonita y las niñas siempre le chupan la belleza a sus madres.

-Ossstate. Yo sé de estas cosas aunque solo tuve a este loco.- y la mujer volvió adentro de la habitación. 

Su suegra le marcó los latidos del corazón del bebé en las palmas de su mano, mientras tenía una oreja sobre el estómago de la parturienta. Imelda solo veía al techo, cada vez más desesperada.

-¿Falta mucho? Ya estoy cansada.-  se quejó.

-Es tu primer parto, mija.- le tranquilizó su madre.- Tómate esto.

El té simplemente no le supo a nada que no fuera su propia impaciencia.  Afuera podía escuchar la voz de su amado cantando, aunque un poco desganado. El pobre había jurado que iba a estar a su lado cuando llegara el bebé. Pero simplemente se lo negaron. Y tal como la madre de él había asegurado, eso la había calmado. Había esperado para que él juntara dinero para construir la casa y pudieran pagar la boda. Ahora había que esperar a que llegara el fruto de su amor. Tenía que ser paciente. 

Ernesto estaba dormitando en una silla, era ya pasada la media noche, las campanas de la Iglesia hacía rato que habían espantado a posibles brujas.... y ni señas de que la espera por el bebé fuera a finalizar pronto. De pronto medio despertó cuando una de las primas de Imelda le trajo una taza de café de olla, aderezado con una sonrisa coqueta.

-Mano, anímate, ya viene tu heredero, parece más que vamos a tocar a un funeral.- murmuró, recuperando un poco la conciencia con el primer sorbo.

-Solo estoy asustado.- Héctor dejó de tocar acordes en la guitarra y miró a los ojos a su amigo, como lo hacía cada vez que se sinceraba a fondo con él-. Ya ves que se murió hace un mes la esposa de Chava cuando nació su niño. Pobrecilla, tan chica que estaba y ahora él solo con el chamaco.

-Imelda es fuerte, Héctor. Si la muerte se la quiere llevar e Imelda no quiere, ten por seguro que ella le tira un botazo y sigue viviendo hasta que las estrellas se caigan.- se rió Ernesto. Es pareció devolverle el ánimo a su carnal.

-¡Ya nació!- anunció felizmente la madre de Imelda, abriendo las puertas del cuarto y corriendo a abrazar a su yerno, que miraba embobado la pared.- ¡Oila nomás como chilla! ¡Va a cantar como nadie en esta familia con esos pulmones!

-¡Niña!- exclamó sorprendido. A pesar de que realmente esperaba un varoncito, no le importaba que fuera una niña. Sería su princesita, su florecita, su querubín, su rayito de sol y la melodía con la cual bailaría el resto de su vida.

Apenas limpiaron a la bebé y sacaron las sábanas ensangrentadas, Héctor al fin pudo conocerla.  Descansaba entre los brazos de su madre. Imelda se veía absolutamente agotada, estaba algo despeinada, pero orgullosa. Héctor besó a su esposa en la frente y tomó la diminuta mano de su hija. Era perfecta. 

-¿Entonces qué, no estás enojado por que sea niña?- comentó Imelda.

-No, no me podría enojar por eso, es nuestra hija y no me enojaría por algo que es nuestro.- suspiró él, tomándola entre sus brazos. Quería poderle dar mucho más que sus canciones. El mundo entero si era posible y aún así no le bastaría. ¿Qué podía decirle?.

-¿Y cómo la van a llamar?- preguntó la madre de Héctor.

-Hoy es la fiesta de la Virgen del Perpetuo Socorro.- murmuró Héctor. sin despegar un ojo de la niña-. Serás mi Socorrito. Coco. Coquito linda. 

Le dio la niña a Imelda y fue por su guitarra. Coco le sonrió al escuchar los primeros acordes. Ernesto, sorprendentemente, lloraba como un niño ante la escena.

“Dedicaré mis días a tí La vida de casa me parecía ajena a mí Y con tu sonrisa me haces enloquecer Y yo tan listo que creía ser

Todo mi esfuerzo pondré Algún error cometeré Pero haré que nada nunca te falte.

Y un día nos vas a sorprender Tal vez, tal vez.

NOTAS

1- Me tomó como cuatro horas hacer este fic. Primero por investigar todo el proceso de parto y luego por buscar sobre como es la práctica de las parteras en México (lo más que recordaba era por un libro que me contó una amiga en preparatoria), pero no encontré mucho, solo entrevistas a las parteras y las condiciones en que ejercen, no pude tampoco preguntarle a mi bruja historiadora favorita porque ya estaba dormida. Fue interesante y creo que me convenció de tener a mis hijos mejor con partera que en el hospital. Mi mamá tampoco estaba ya despierta para preguntarle que cuál era el signo para saber si un bebé es niño o niña (ella siempre adivina por la panza de la mamá). Pero como ya sabemos que va a ser niña, pues ni para qué. No me equivoqué en lo de los colores, en serio, antes a las niñas se las vestía de azul (por la Virgen María) y a los niños de rojo (que porque el rojo era un tono muy macho y el rosa era un tono adecuado y tierno para un niño). Hasta como los cincuentas eso se invirtió. 2- Sí, la canción de Albricias existe. La canción al final fue una adaptación mega liberal de Dear Theodosia. 

3- Si lo quieren tomar de headcannon para una fecha de cumpleaños para Coco, la fiesta de la Virgen del Perpetuo Socorro es el 27 de junio. Ya ven que antes les ponían a los niños el nombre del santo que salía en el calendario (Yo sería Cutberta, qué horror).

4-Yo creo que en el fondo, Ernesto sí es buena persona. Pero si te metes con lo que él quiere... pus te va como ya sabemos.

[talesofzero]

Carpe Noctem - Ch. 26

AU; Chapter 26 - Ego Te Provoco

Everyone has a bad time, as usual.

~3900 words

Zero still looked like a man at death’s door. Pale and clammy as a fog-drenched harbor, his breaths rattled in his chest. Vampires didn’t get sick, but there was no denying that Zero looked the part.

All from one arrow.

“Fine… I’m fine,” he murmured as my father looked over him. No one was a proper doctor. None of us really needed to be, but Father was the oldest, so we let him take over in case he’d seen anything like it before.

“It’s certainly acting like poison,” Father said, “but I do think it’s working its way out of his system. The wound does seem to be healing, slowly but surely.”

Zero would have healed even faster had he not cut open his already-ruined hand to turn Ezra of all damn people. “It’s your own damn fault,” Zero had said after the man’s body had stilled, the blood doing its work. “We could have questioned him if you hadn’t taken things so far. He’ll be lucky if he maintains the use of his legs.”

“What use would questioning him be?” I’d asked, still considering tearing Ezra’s throat out while he slept.

“There’s no doubt he works for Gido. Why else would he be here? We may have been able to get a location out of him.”

“Well turning him won’t change anything. It’ll be weeks before he’s of any use to us.”

“Just let me have this, Harlock. I want him to serve his penance after what he’s done to me and my city. You had your retribution for Yama. Let me have mine.”

I couldn’t deny him that, not after I’d thought him dead. His heart had stopped like Yama’s, just from an arrow to his shoulder. He’d awakened slowly, his limbs weak but his mind clear. Even after my brother and I helped him stagger back to the ship, he was still mostly immobile. Blood helped return some life to him, but for an Oldblood to be left in such a state was unprecedented. We were immune to so much, strong and impossible and immortal.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Especially not to Zero.

And now he’d stuck himself with a Newblood who would undoubtedly stab him in the back. He must have had a death wish.

Well, that much had always been apparent. He was a magnet for trouble.

Just as he’d almost dispersed the swarm of us around him with insistences that he was fine, the little wolf wriggled his way to the front. He was in human form now, and he looked much angrier awake. He must not have brushed his hair because it was an unruly mess. In fact, he may have never brushed his hair.

“It’s wolfsbane!” he snapped, hands on his hips as he glared at Zero. “You reek of the stuff!” He seemed to enjoy yelling.

“We were in that part of town,” Wataru said. “The smell might have clung.”

The boy shook his head harder than he needed to. “No, no! None of you smell near as bad.”

Looking hurt, Zero sniffed the collar of his coat.

“It’s all over his hand and his shoulder,” the kid continued. “Gido always smelled kind of like that too.” Stomping toward Ezra’s unconscious form, the little wolf dug around in the man’s bandoleer ‘til he found a vial of clear liquid. I would have thought it holy water, but the wolf pressed his sleeve to his nose, his brows pinched.

Wataru took it from him as the little wolf made a “blech,” sound. “It’s concentrated wolfsbane,” the kid said. “I think Gido made the stuff.”

“You don’t remember?” I asked.

“He wiped most of our memories, I guess. Everything is kind of hazy.” The kid waved his hand like it wasn’t a big deal, though I could only imagine he wasn’t all that concerned about what had happened to him because he couldn’t recall. Small victories, I suppose.

The “our” still rang in my ears though. There was still the other small wolf, the one I’d injured.

“So if we can get to the spot where the wolfsbane smells the strongest, we may be able to find him,” Wataru said. Our eyes all shot from the little vial to him.

“Maybe,” the kid said with a shrug. “Or if you can spot Sam somewhere when Gido sends him on an errand, you could follow him back.”

“Sam?” Wataru asked.

“The other werewolf. He’s about my age, but he was there longer. I don’t remember Gido too much – didn’t even remember that was his name ‘til you mentioned it – but I remember Sam pretty well. He didn’t talk much because he was always hypnotized. Eyes all blue and stuff.”

Wataru nodded. “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to search again. The sun will be up soon.”

“I don’t think we should wait,” I said. I could feel their disapproval on me. “I’m going to go out again. I’ll be back before sunrise, or I’ll find a place to hide, but I don’t want to waste any more time. I’ll take the boy with me, and we’ll narrow down the search.”

When I nodded toward the kid, his eyes sparked with anger. I’d expected him to spout his hatred that I’d attacked them before, but I got a different sort of tongue-lashing. “I’m not a boy!” he screamed.

A girl then? Maybe I’d misjudged.

“My name is Nazca, and I’m a man!”

It was such a familiar spiel that I couldn’t help but smile. That just riled him up more. “Don’t you laugh! I’ll fight you, you vampire bastard!”

As his teeth began to grow and sharpen, Shep stepped between us and pat the kid on the head, somewhere between admonishment and affection. I was glad for his intrusion because I was certain I only would have served to make the kid angrier, no matter what I said.

Daiba had been the same.

No one but a stubborn kid would have been stupid enough to stowaway on a ship full of vampires. To his credit, I didn’t discover him until a few days into the journey. He’d hidden himself among our cargo, none of which was food. All he could do to eat was catch fish while we slept during the day. But when he gave into that option, I heard him moving about my ship. I caught him on the way back down from the deck, and I was far too tired not to be annoyed.

“You know I’m supposed to throw stowaways overboard,” I said with a sigh, rubbing a hand across my face.

In a thick Japanese accent, he’d spluttered on about how he could prove himself useful and why did we all sleep during the day and where was all the food. I waved a hand until he fell silent.

“We can deal with this in the morning.”

“It is morning,” he said.

“Evening,” I corrected. “Go grab an empty room or something. I don’t care. Just let me sleep for now. I’ll decide your fate when my eye isn’t stinging.”

“May I cook my fish?”

“Sure, kid.”

“I am not a kid!”

I ignored his anger in favor of going back to bed, but he was certainly a kid, somewhere in his teens and oddly blond for a Japanese boy. He was hardly tall enough to reach my chest and skinny as a rail.  Those big brown eyes of his were sharp though, piercing with curiosity and intelligence.

But mostly anger. He always seemed angry.

“I want to join your crew,” he demanded the next time we spoke.

“No. I’ll let you off at our next port. This is no place for a child.”

“I am no child! I’m fourteen!”

Richard stepped in, all smiles. He clasped the boy’s hands in his own, which the boy was quick to frown at. “Can you tell us your name?” Richard asked.

“Daiba Tadashi.”

After a moment’s consideration, I decided Daiba was his surname, and he’d given his names in the same order Tochiro had the first time we met. I doubted Richard noticed.

“Nice to meet you, Daiba. I’m Dick, and this is my brother, Phantom.”

“Harlock,” I corrected. “Call me Harlock.”

“If you’re the captain, I will call you Captain,” Daiba said.

I said nothing, so Richard continued. “Daiba, I know you want to join a pirate ship, but this is not the one for you. When we go to our next port, you can talk to captains there and see if any of them would be willing to take you in as one of their crew.”

Daiba’s gaze darted aside. “I tried. They all want me to warm their beds.”

A chill shot up my back. Richard’s eyes were wide as a startled rabbit’s. “Then why stowaway?” I asked. “You didn’t know what we could do to you.”

“I had to run. The townspeople said I killed my father, but I didn’t! It was that thing!”

“What thing?”

I almost didn’t catch his answer, mumbled down toward his chest. “The yokai.”

“Did you see this yokai?” I asked. Richard looked to me for answers, but I gave him a glance that said it wasn’t the time. Yokai were Japanese demons, meaning his father had likely been killed by one of us. Daiba just used the yokai explanation to make sense of it.

“I didn’t see much,” Daiba said, hands clenched tight in his lap. “But it was not human. I had no proof, so they were going to lock me away. You…don’t believe me, do you?”

“I don’t see why you would lie about this to a pirate. Having a kill on your record would usually be a good sign to us.” I shrugged. “I believe you. The trouble is, Daiba, none of us are human either.”

Richard looked as startled as the kid that I’d admitted it so quickly, but I knew I would be dealing with endless begging if I didn’t tell the truth now. Daiba was clearly the stubborn sort, and he wouldn’t give up on joining my crew without a fight. It was best to pull my trump card now.

“You’re…not?” Daiba echoed, expression screwed up in confusion.

“Don’t believe me?” I smiled wide enough to show off a fang. “There’s a reason we don’t go out in the sun – we can’t. We’re vampires.”

I expected more of a reaction than a blink. It didn’t seem to register for him. “What’s that?” he asked at length.

“Blood-suckers,” I attempted.

Still, nothing but a blank expression greeted me.

“You know, creature of the night? Have to drink blood to survive? Warded off by crosses and holy water and all that? Have to be staked in the heart or burned to die? Immortal?”

“So I can’t join your crew because I’m not a…vampire.” He tested the word, uncertain he’d said it right. He had gotten the pronunciation down, but he’d gotten everything else wrong.

“Daiba,” Richard attempted. “We drink blood as food, human blood. We might hurt you.”

Daiba set a determined expression, like a kitten trying to appear intimidating. “I can defend myself.”

Considering his scrawny arms and lack of any visible weapons, I doubted it.

“It may very well have been a vampire that killed your father,” I said. 

“But it wasn’t any of you, right? You seem nice. You didn’t kill me when you could have.”

Poor as his logic was, we didn’t have much of an option at that point. We wouldn’t see port for at least a week. Despite his continuing protests, I assured him that he would be let off once we arrived.

That should have been the case. It would have been for the best.

But with the boy on-board, Richard would drink when I told him to. He still gagged against attempts to swallow blood, shuddering and turning his nose up at the smell, but he forced it down. He knew he would attack Daiba if he grew too hungry. The boy kept my brother stable.

When we arrived at port, I made no mention of Daiba getting off, and Richard couldn’t stop grinning. He adored Daiba. That was the boy’s downfall.

Daiba saw my brother’s affections as patronizing. I often heard screams of “I’m not a child!” when he received one too many pats on the head. Then he would retreat behind me, grumbling about my brother. “Not a little kid,” he’d say.

“Well, you’re certainly not big,” I’d return.

He’d fume and blush, but he never yelled at me like he did my brother. In his short time as a human, he didn’t grow much. He was eternally short and eternally angry about it. Richard’s increasing attempts to coddle him didn’t help matters.

It was all too obvious that my brother loved him, and it was all too obvious that my brother was slipping back into old habits despite or perhaps because of his infatuation.

I shouldn’t have left them alone. Richard became so violent when feral, so quick to claw and tear until he was covered in blood. By the time I was able to separate them, there were so many wounds on Daiba, I didn’t know where to put my hands to slow the bleeding.

He looked confused mostly. Pain burned in his eyes, but the confusion overwhelmed it. For the first time, he was quiet. He wouldn’t respond to me, lost in his own thoughts. I gave up on asking if he wanted to be turned for fear that he wouldn’t last much longer. Richard had warned him. We were dangerous. That was the last time I allowed a human to be part of my crew.

While Daiba slept in the limbo between life and death, I cleaned Richard off until there was no sign of his involvement. Perhaps if I’d let him know, he would have corrected his behavior, but I didn’t want him to suffer. I told him we’d been attacked, and Daiba had gotten the worst of it. Once Daiba awoke from being the most troublesome feral I’d ever seen, unable to recall his final moments, he backed up my lies.

Now that he felt safe around the newblood, Richard showed his affections even more. Daiba, of course, whined more. I always thought both he and my brother oblivious. Daiba didn’t seem to realize what Richard felt was love, and neither did Richard.

But I never paid much mind to Daiba’s clinging to me or his constant blushing in my presence. I was just as oblivious. We were all young and stupid at the time. Everything was simpler then, more innocent. I knew nothing of the lords and little of hunters. I thought Wataru was off growing old somewhere. I was a young, stupid, immortal pirate, and I thought I could stay that way forever. I thought we could stay that way forever.

But when that thing that wasn’t my brother once again took over and Daiba slipped back into quiet confusion before his agonizing end, the illusion was no more. I was able to retrieve Richard after he ran but not whatever was left of Daiba. The smell of Daiba’s blood was overwhelming on my brother, and I had no time or mind to clean him off him before he returned to himself.

Once he woke, he wouldn’t stop asking where Daiba was, his voice empty and broken. I couldn’t answer. I just watched him desperately trying to scrub the flaking blood from his hands. When his request changed suddenly, it came with a sobbed laugh.

“Phantom, please. Dear god, please kill me. You can do it, right? Just destroy the heart to kill a vampire. I’ve seen you do it before.” He fell to his knees in front of me and took my hand, pulling it to his chest. “Please, big brother. Just let it end.”

I should have. Even without the knowledge of what he would become, I should have known well enough to kill him then. He was destined to die young, weak and resting in bed as sunlight warmed him through the window. We’d always expected him to slip away just like that.

He was supposed to die. He wanted to die.

But I thought I could force him to keep living once again.

I pulled my hand out of his grasp as he looked up at me with desperation. I told him that I would not let him die. 

He vanished a few days later.

That was why it was not Wataru’s fight, nor my father’s. That was why I had to be the one to kill Gido - I had to be the one to kill my little brother - I owed him death.

Of course, my family attempted to convince me otherwise. They hounded me about waiting until the next night or taking them along. Everyone else agreed except Nazca, who insisted he was enough of a bodyguard on his own. “I can take on one vampire by myself!” he screeched, though something seemed to trouble him about the idea. He hesitated, eyes rolling up in thought. “Or…two? I feel like there were two.”

“Then Gido does have a cohort,” Father said. “You definitely need to take us along then, son.”

With so little time before daylight, I gave in, bottling the urge to hit my brother and father. They didn’t need to look so smug about it. 

Wataru asked Shep to accompany us as well, and the wolf gave a nod before slipping into another room to transform. Nazca just stripped right then and there in front of all the awkwardly-averted eyes. Luckily, his transformation was over in a quick flurry of fur. He was a mangy thing, looking more scrappy dog than wolf, especially when clean-cut Shep stood towering over him.

“Alright, Nazca,” I said once we were all outside. “I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice.”

Even with the face of a dog, he did a good job conveying his displeasure with the idea.

“Just do it.”

He did, plopping down on his haunches with his chin held high. The ear that didn’t flop over stood taut at attention.

My family all had the same face and much the same voice, so I would need to become Gido for a moment. Trying to hypnotize Nazca into giving me information would do nothing. Gido’s hypnotism was leagues beyond mine and would cancel out any attempt I made. My only other hope was pure dumb luck and muscle memory.

“Return home,” I said in as calm-but-commanding a voice as I could. “Just follow where your legs take you, and go back to base. Go where you and Sam would stay. Do as I say. Come back to me.”

He must have understood my ploy because he broke into a dash before he’d even opened his eyes. I had to hop out of the way to keep from being barreled over, and then we were all running like idiots.

Shep seemed to be the only one not struggling to keep up, racing just ahead of us with long, smooth strides. It was a good thing he was there because we would have lost Nazca otherwise. Werewolves had an advantage of speed over vampires that had us sliding into walls at sharp turns. It was a wonder we didn’t wake the whole neighborhood.

“Do you think he actually knows where he’s going?” Father asked between panting breaths.

“No,” I answered honestly. I had no doubts that this was little more than a wild goose chase.

“I’m too old for this,” Wataru wheezed.

Father barked a laugh at that, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes despite my smile.

The sound of a gunshot silenced us. A screeched yelp signaled a dog’s pain, but as we rounded the corner toward its source, I could hear nothing but a jagged growl. Despite having no voice, it appeared Shep could make his anger known, and he did look furious. His eyes were wild, blood glistening in a dark stain down his front leg. He must have been shot in the shoulder, and that amount of blood could have only come from a silver bullet, but he showed no concern; He stood over the cowering form of Nazca, the boy trembling like the wind had frozen him through. In the moonlight, his round, dark eyes shone a bright blue.

Across the square, Gido stood reloading his pistol. His lip curled in annoyance. He was alone, armed only with a single-shot gun. It shouldn’t have been this easy.

In three steps, I’d placed myself between him and the wolves. Shep’s growl faded to nothing before I heard the sound of a body hitting the ground. The pain must have gotten the better of him. Wataru called to him, his steps crossing behind me toward the wolves. Father’s steps retreated back into the alley. He had a mind to flank Gido, but I hoped I could finish things before my father or brother could step in.

“I’ve always been a terrible shot,” Gido said, checking over his reloaded gun.

“This is the end,” I said. “Enough running.”

He acted as though he hadn’t heard me. His pulse remained even while mine raced.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” I snapped.

He shrugged. “I want you to suffer. It is my nature. It’s what I was born to do.”

“You’re just-!” Just what? Some sick bastard? Some sadist? Something from my brother’s own mind?

“I am what your brother wanted.”

“Lies!” Wataru and I spat.

He waved the gun like an extension of his hand. “More or less. He bottled his hatred, so now you have me – all that desire. All I’ve ever thought and wanted was for you to suffer, Harlock. That was your brother’s last desire as a human, his first as a feral. That’s me.”

“I understand,” I said, biting back my rage. I wanted all of that to be lies. Richard was far too kind for those thoughts to be part of him, but I couldn’t blame him for hating me after all I’d done to him. “But it doesn’t mean any of your actions toward others were justified. You’ve made far more suffer than just me.”

“Well, we’re supposed to be demons, aren’t we?” His lips tugged toward a vicious grin. “You and I both know we feel a rush whenever we kill. We’re made for it. To that end, I was doing what I was meant to. The weak are meant to be culled and controlled. I’m a Lord, after all. I’m supposed to lead. I make the rules.”

“You’re outnumbered, so your laws are overturned,” Wataru said as he came to stand at my side. Soldiers always spouted the worst lines. I tried not to make my cringe too obvious.

But Gido flashed a grin. “You’re right. Let’s even things up a bit.”

I tried to throw a hand out to smack over Wataru’s damn eyes, but Gido was quicker. For hypnosis to work, we had to take in both our target’s eyes. No matter his skill, Gido could not surpass this requirement. That was why he always ran from me. The one perk of my eyepatch was that hypnosis couldn’t take hold. That had always been my advantage over Gido. That was why I should have come alone.

“Come along, big brother,” Gido purred as Wataru’s eyes glazed over like ice on a pond. “You would always take my side against Phantom. So for old time’s sake, let’s end him.”

[angewrites]

Interference

Title: Interference 

Title Definition:  (n) The ability of two waves passing through each other to mingle, reinforcing each other where crests coincide and cancelling each other out where crests and troughs coincide.

Anime: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D’s

Words: 5844

Summary:  With Yusei and Jack gone to Nazca lines, Aki struggles to understand her physics homework. With a test coming up the next day, she calls Crow to ask for help and, to her surprise, he agrees to help her. But, as it turns out, physics isn’t the only thing she’s confused about. Also, it happens to be her birthday. Aki’s POV, Firebirdshipping (Izayoi Aki x Crow Hogan-sama)

Notes: It’s August 16th in Japan, which means it’s Aki’s birthday!! I’ve been working on, reworking, and editing at least ten times this fic for 8 days (I even used my high school physics notes for this lmao). And honestly, I’m in love with how this turned out. I was even thinking about it in my sleep lmao.

Anyway, this is the first time in a long loooong time I’ve written romance of this caliber, so if y’all got suggestions, I’m all eyes. But, even if you don’t, please let me know what you think of this b/c I’ve been dying to publish this since yesterday haha.

Happy reading!!

[FFN] [AO3]

Izayoi Residence

If I had to choose between fighting a worldwide threat and a physics test, I’d opt for the worldwide threat. Getting a diploma didn’t depend on how well I fought it. Better yet, I’d rather be in a cheesy, poorly-written high school romance (my least favorite type of romance movie) and pretend to take a physics test rather than actually take one. It’s ridiculous. Why was Duel Academy still holding classes? The rest of the city’s in shambles from Yusei’s fight with that Yliaster guy. It didn’t make any sense.

I opened my purple physics notebook as slowly as I possibly could. The test’s still happening, no matter how much I complained, hoping it would go away. We’d been studying a unit that had flown over my head since day one. I’ve tried talking with Mr. Kimura about my frustrations, but back-to-back staff meetings conveniently interrupted the explanation sessions, so I was at a total loss. Yusei had been helping me as much as he could before the World Riding Grand Prix. Eventually, preparations took over. I still didn’t understand.

And the test’s tomorrow.

And the test’s worth half our grade.

And it’s my worst class.

And I couldn’t exactly sing a musical number and hoped everything would turn out fine by the end.

How I envisioned spending the night of my 17th birthday? Not even close.  

I exhaled and glanced out my window. The sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sky with a light bluish orange. Maybe he’s not too busy and he could help.

Wait a sec. He visited the kids after his job, didn’t he? I doubted he would want to waste his free time helping me with physics.

But, I didn’t have many options. My parents were away on a trip for the next two days and I couldn’t possibly bother them. It’s unlikely they’d understand the material enough to help me, even if I did. I couldn’t ask my other school friends either because none of them understood the stuff.

And I didn’t even have Bruno’s number.

I was desperate for help. Nothing was making sense.

I called Crow before I could change my mind.

 When the heavy diiiiiiiing-dong sound of the doorbell reached my ears during my futile attempts to understand wave motion and interference, I glanced at my rose-shaped clock. 20:00. Exactly. If it was Crow, hmph. Some nerve he had to show up an hour late. Who did he think he was, the sloppy sidekick friend always showing up with coffee? I went down the carpeted stairs and opened the door.

There he was, standing there scratching the back of his head, which he always did when he did something he shouldn’t have done, his spiky orange hair as disheveled as ever. The words slipped out like venom before I had a chance to think.

“You sure took your sweet time, Crow.”

He stopped scratching his head. I bit down on my bottom lip, tasting the remainder of my cherry-flavored chapstick, wishing to take back those words. The tension was thick enough to be suffocating, so I opened my mouth to offer a quick “Sorry,” but Crow laughed before I could even get a breath in.

“Yeah, I did. It’s for a good reason, trust me,” he said. He placed a calming hand on my shoulder, a familiar gesture yet so unusual at that moment. “Before that, though, you need help in physics, right?”

I nodded, noting Crow had placed a hand protectively over one of his jacket pockets – the left one. He was wearing his bright yellow Blackbird Delivery jacket. He must’ve come straight from work.

He shrugged his shoulders, smiling. “I guess I know a thing or two about that. I’ll do my best.”

 We made our way up the stairs to my room, Crow taking longer than I was. That’s right. It’s the first time he’s ever been to my house. Not only that, but he’s also the first friend to come over. He was shocked by how fancy everything was, from the vases to the floral wallpaper to the Renaissance paintings my father collected, bought, was given to on his business trips.

Things Crow normally didn’t see on his side of town.  

Although I lived here, at that moment, I felt a tinge of embarrassment. I swallowed hard, managing to say, “My room’s this way.”

Crow made one last look at one of the paintings before shrugging his shoulders and trekking up the stairs. I took a seat, the unfamiliar and confusing wave motion and interference notes and formulas glaring at me from on top of my desk. He took his place next to me, glancing at my notes.

“Ya gotta understand this by tomorrow?” He grabbed the purple spiral notebook from on top of my writing desk to have a better look, I guessed.

“Yeah. A huge test. A nice chunk of my final grade, no less,” I replied, crossing my legs and arms. “But, I don’t get any of it and neither do any of my friends at school.”

“Mhmmmm,” Crow replied, looking intently at my notes, trying to decipher them. I didn’t exactly have the best handwriting, so I didn’t blame him for struggling. Still, if he had that much trouble figuring it out, he could’ve asked me, for goodness’ sake.

“If you can’t read my handwriting, just tell me,” I spoke up, leaning back in my cushioned chair.

“No, it’s not that,” he corrected. “It’s just . . . this is so easy. Even Jack could figure this out.”

“Really, Crow? That’s not very helpful,” I scoffed, holding myself tighter.

Crow must’ve realized why I was suddenly so rattled.

“Woah, my bad. I can help you with this, though. It’s not hard. You just need to take it one piece at a time.”

“One piece at a time, huh?” I muttered, taking the notes from his hands.

“Yeah, let me show you,” he said, moving to behind my chair and extending an arm towards my notes. He pointed at various formulas and terms in a sequence. While that was my learning style, I was unable to focus. His covered-by-his-work-jacket arm was just centimeters away from my bare arm. My heartrate accelerated, a wave of nervousness overwhelming me. The hairs in the back of my neck stood up and I broke out in a cold sweat.

All because of an arm.

Whenever that happened to other characters in a romantic comedy, I’d always cheer for the one feeling overwhelmed to get with the guy or girl already . . . which was then followed by an hour and a half of them trying to get together, misunderstandings and all. It was annoying when I thought back on the movie, but I fell for it as it was happening. Every. Time. They got together at the end, so what did it matter?

I didn’t think that would ever happen to me. But, it didn’t make sense for it to happen either since Crow’s only a friend. He definitely thought of me as just a friend too.

I was sure of it . . . I guess.

Crow was trying his best to explain interference and wave motion and all to me, but my mind and heart were making it hard to focus. They’d rather help me fully and irrevocably concentrate on another problem.

Him.

I didn’t understand at first where the attraction came from, whatever kind of attraction it was. Sure, he did drop everything he had planned, which probably included visiting the kids at Martha’s, just to help me with something he thought was simple. Before that, he even supported me after that poor performance against Team Unicorn, taking time out of the chaos to make sure I was alright. He did all of that even though he went through a lot to train me in a number of early mornings for the tournament, even though he should’ve been focusing on his arm recovering.

And, okay, okay, he wasn’t half-bad looking either – even with all the markers on his face. He was actually kinda cute.

But, that didn’t mean I liked him like. Like that. That was ridiculous. Crow was just a super good friend I could laugh with. I could improve my skills as a D-Wheeler with. I could practice my dueling skills against.

That’s all he was. A friend.

“So, you got that?”

Crow’s voice forces me back to the original problem – the interference problem. I turned against my will to face him.

A sensation overwhelmed me.

It was a strange sensation. It wasn’t like when I first met Divine, when I had felt acceptance – it was a false one, but it made me feel I had belonged. I wasn’t an outcast or a monster to the people in the Arcadia Movement. I was powerful, I was strong, I was feared. There were people who looked up to me. They accepted me for who I was because of him. Divine - a typhoon engulfing me, violently lashing out at anyone who dared to come close under the guise of protecting me.

It wasn’t like when I had first met Yusei either. Even though I was afraid when I met him – something about his demeanor had given me chills and he had been so bold in his convictions – those feelings gave way to warmth. Light shrouded in darkness, but it persistently shone through till the darkness dispelled. Its warmth gave me courage to change, face my problems head on, to think for myself. And I gravitated towards it, fell head over heels for it. For him.

This sensation with Crow was . . . different. Vastly different.

I found myself staring at Crow’s lips in typical romantic comedy movie fashion. “M-Mhm.”

“Uh, Aki, my eyes’re up here,” he said, half-concern, half-“what the hell are you doing?”

I felt my cheeks flush a little and prayed they didn’t appear red as my frilly sleeveless blouse. I held myself tighter in my arms and legs crossed position. Ugh, how embarrassing.

“I got that!” I retorted.

Crow only laughed, clearly comfortable at that point with the harsh way I would accidentally tell him things, and he said, “No big deal. Let’s just go over it again to make sure you really do understand it, though, ‘kay?”

It wasn’t dramatic in the slightest, but the sensation was still something extraordinary. It was a longing, yearning. Yearning to just be myself and to be myself with him. And stay with him, long after this tutoring session was over.

What in the world was this feeling?

“Okay,” I responded, silently praying I pay attention this time to physics. I needed to pass the test, after all. That ear-to-ear smile he gave wasn’t helping with that, though. Nor were my heart and nerves. I swallowed hard and sat with my back aligned with my chair, as if doing so would return my feelings to normal.

They didn’t.

I was, however more alert and willing to finally knock down the physics wall as Crow re-explained the connection between wave motion and interference. The passion with how he was explaining something that was simple to him captivated me. He somehow related wave motion and interference to D-Wheels and Riding Duels, two things I felt vastly inexperienced in but certainly knew more about.

“So, kinda like how a Riding Duel tournament is just a bunch of duelists with D-Wheels coming together, periodic waves are basically multiple pulse waves. The periodic waves are the tournament, the pulse waves are the people,” he mentioned as we neared the last problem. “Might be a stretch, but that’s how I’m seeing it.” Crow scratched his head.

“No, this makes perfect sense,” I replied, writing down the comparison so I could remember it. “I wish my teacher had explained it like this in class.”

“Heh. There’s only so much those teachers can do, huh? Might be worth it to just go to a class and see how much I know.”

I sighed, but then I laughed at the possibility. It was hard enough to imagine Crow in any school setting, real or fabricated, much less a high school, or, even worse yet, a university.

“You’d get kicked out, for sure,” I said, finishing up my writing.

Crow harrumphed. “This is payback for the Jack comment, isn’t it?”

I gave a small smile. “Maybe.”

By the time I felt I fully understood the concepts for the test the next day, it was already 21:30. I stretched my arms, relieving the tension physics placed on me. While it felt fantastic to have finally figured out my physics problems, there’s still one problem left I needed to solve. Well, two problems, but they involved the same person. And I had hoped to solve them by the end of tonight.

“That’s all I can do for now,” The Problem himself announced. “Hopefully, that helped.”

“It did. Thanks a million, Crow,” I replied. “By the way, you were going to tell me why you were late today. That’s what you said earlier, right?”

Crow nervously laughed, which I thought was odd. “Okay, yeah, ya got me. Like I said, though, it’s for a good reason. I had to do something for your birthday and all.” He reached into one of his pockets – the pocket he had been protectively placing his hand over the entire time – and pulled out a small black plastic bag.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s all I could manage, given finances and all. ‘scuse the wrapping,” he said, handing it to me.

It took all I had to not let my mouth drop completely to the floor. I hastily took the black bag and pulled out a small rose keychain. It wasn’t one of those flat keychains either; it was one of those three-dimensional ones that had figurine-like quality to it.

“All those schoolbags look alike to me, even though the kids like to argue with me that they don’t, so this is to just make sure no one takes yours,” Crow said, his voice sounding triumphant.

All he could manage? Just how much did he spend on this?

“Crow . . . these aren’t cheap,” I replied. “How much money did you spend on this?”

“Happy birthday!”

“I’m serious!”

Crow waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Aki. Really. It didn’t cost an arm and a leg, I promise.”

“Crow . . .” I persisted.

“Okay, okay, fine. I spent a day’s work at my job on this,” he gave up, shrugging his shoulders. It was adorable – wait. “Really, don’t worry. It’s for you and that’s why I was okay with getting it.”

Just when I had him and how I felt about him figured out, he added even more problems.  

Truth be told, the concern with money was just a coverup for how I felt. It’s not that I didn’t get presents for my birthday, but it’s the first time I’ve ever gotten anything on my birthday from a friend.

If that’s what Crow was.

If this had been part of a friends-to-lovers movie, it would’ve been the part that started the whole “and suddenly, the friends realized they had romantic feelings for each other” portion of the movie. But, obviously, that didn’t apply then.

. . . Yeah, it didn’t apply. Not even close. My heart kept screaming “Liar!!” at me. I ignored it.

To think that’s why he was late. It’s frustrating. I couldn’t help but smile though as I tied the present onto my black school bag. It was a nice one, but, unfortunately, all I was going to think of whenever I saw it was him.

Who was I kidding? I meant fortunately.

“I . . . I just. Thank you, Crow,” I managed to get out, trying to quell my rapid heart beating. My heart didn’t even act as unsettled as I felt then when I was around Yusei. But, why would it ever act this way around Crow?

Crow gave a thumbs up. “Don’t sweat it. But, I’ve got to go now. Got an early delivery shift tomorrow morning and a bird needs his rest.”

My heart pounded in my chest, as if the feelings it had been holding were to burst at any moment, all my emotions laid out bare for Crow to see.

“If you got any last-minute questions tomorrow, well, you know how to reach me.”

He was a friend! Nothing more. Besides, the one I liked that way was Yusei, right?

“I’ll see you later, Aki.”

. . . right?

“Yeah, see you,” I blurted out on instinct. My reason and my brain fought with my emotion and my heart on how important the problem was. Score one for emotion and heart.

Wrong. So, so wrong.

I was frozen in my chair, watching Crow walk slowly towards the stairway. He’s probably walking at a normal pace, but I wouldn’t have known. Everything with my body was hyperaware and time had slowed down. My body gave it its all trying to solve this one problem. My heart screamed, cried, pleaded for Crow to stay and reason decided to take a back seat.

I . . . I liked Yusei. I did. I thought. I didn’t know. Everything was so confusing.

I grabbed my chair by the armrests and got up, Crow getting ready to go down the stairs. I couldn’t help but stare at his lips again. Maybe. Maybe that’s the key. Maybe doing this will solve the problem and clear everything up once and for all.

I swallowed my bottom lip, the taste of the cherry-flavored chapstick long gone. It’s better I didn’t think too much about it. I needed to go with my gut feeling. That’s what those romance movies always said, anyway, if the brain and the heart wouldn’t cooperate. My gut feeling wasn’t confusing and it’s always right. My gut feeling was . . .

“Wait!”

Crow came back up the stairs, reentering my room. I sauntered in his direction as he asked, “Yeah? What’s up?”

I made sure there was some space between us. And then, when I closed my eyes, there wasn’t. Not even between our lips this time.

He wasn’t just a friend. I finally made up my mind. He was more than that.

I had intended to only for the kiss to last a half a second, if that long, because I had felt so awkward. Aaaand I might have accidentally crashed my teeth into his? Whoops. Grade for first kiss: 0. It was enough to make even a five-year-old girl cringe.

But, that sensation I had felt from him . . . it invited me in and I crashed into it headfirst . . . or lips first? Whatever. The point is I didn’t let the awkwardness get to me for longer than I thought.

Despite that, I pulled away quickly, that sense of calm giving way to worry. Like someone who trips in front of their crush near the climax of the movie, I felt a wave of nausea and anxiety. Way to go, Aki. He probably just saw you as a friend like you thought he was and you made so many presumptions. You get a failing grade in dealing with your emotions, no matter how well you did on the Physics test tomorrow. And, ugh. That first kiss was pitiful.

I stepped back, still catching my breath, my cheeks incredibly flushed. I couldn’t hide the redness and felt trapped, my emotions holding me hostage. Crow’s face was one of complete shock, his face also flushed. I didn’t blame him. I had just invaded his personal space, after all (although that arm of his clearly invaded mine, so we’re even there). I had asked him for help on physics. That moment just then, our lips touching, the kiss? Clearly more than he bargained for.

It’d be a miracle if he still wanted to talk to me. No way he, someone who’s incredibly selfless, wanted to be with someone who’s so selfish.

“A-Aki?” Crow stammered, clearly unhinged.

I turned towards the window so he wouldn’t see my face.

“I. I overstepped some boundaries there,” I responded, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

I expected all kinds of reactions. “Aki, what the hell?”, “Yeah, you should be sorry!”, “Don’t speak to me ever again,” followed by a door slam. It wouldn’t have been the first time Crow reacted dramatically (and rightfully) to my rash decisions. That and that’s usually what happened in the movies. So, I braced myself.

Instead, what I got was an “Aki, it’s okay.”

I dug my fingernails into my palm to keep from breaking down right then and there. “W-What does that mean? You don’t even like me like that.”

I heard his footsteps, muffled by the carpet. A soothing hand rested on my shoulder. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“It means that I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his composure having returned. “And . . . I don’t like you like that? That’s news to me.”

I stared ahead, but my defenses weakened a little bit.

“If that’s true, then - then why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “Instead of leaving me in the dark?” I managed to hold it in, but my voice cracked a little and my eyes watered at the corners.  

“Because I thought – the whole team thought the one you liked was . . . well, you know. I didn’t want to complicate things,” he admitted. “I was surprised you even called me to help you with physics. You never ask for anyone’s help other than his.”

So that’s it. The problem solver was also a problem the entire time.

“I guess . . . You’re right. I came across like that, didn’t I?” I let a few tears fall, but a smile broke out on my face. “I’m. I’m sorry, I’m just. I. I don’t know. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do”

Crow only pulled me closer to him, his hand moving from my shoulder to my arm.

“I . . . thought I liked Yusei, but I don’t know. I just can’t understand him,” my voice became louder, “can’t get close to him. I was – I was just hoping he’d notice.”

It’s true I did like Yusei, but at that moment, I wondered. Was I attracted to him because of him or because of what he did for me?

“So, what do you want to do?”

I looked at Crow, not even bothering to hide my tears anymore.

“I mean, you did kiss me, but don’t let that hold you back. If you still plan on pursuing Yusei, I won’t stop you,” he said as he looked to his left as he said that and frowned.

Crow’s not one to lie. I knew that. But, I could easily tell when he’s undermining his true emotions. He didn’t want to hurt me, be insensitive. He knew I had liked Yusei for a while. I got that.

He really needed to be selfish for once, though. It’d be easier for me as well as for him. Especially since Yusei had yet to confess any sort of feelings for me.

Romance movies normally didn’t take this turn that I struggled with then. Sure, there were those love triangles that got on my nerves, but this wasn’t a love triangle. It was a love tug-of-war. I couldn’t rely on movies to tell me the answers to my feelings this time. I had to go with my instincts and my own feelings.

I always hated that part in the movies where the guy or girl claimed to have fallen in love with someone else, but it turned out they only fell in love with the idea of the person they wanted to be with, not the actual person. Especially in those cheeky high school dramas. Yet, it was that type of idolization that got celebrated in the movies.

I would turn off the movie as soon as I realized that’s happening because who the heck wanted to live like that? They’re just a person.

Was my longing for Yusei any different? Did I want to be with him or did I want to be with an idea of him?

In all honesty, my longing probably fell into the “falling in love with an idea” trope. He saved me from blindly accepting everything around me. He helped me understand how a D-Wheel maneuvered. But, there was something about him I couldn’t reach. Instead of trying harder or instead of doing something more productive like not doing that, I settled, hoping he would willingly open up.

Pathetic.

“No,” I said, voice trembling. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

I could hear Crow’s breathing become more ragged.

He didn’t even turn my life around like Yusei did. But, he was there for me. He was always encouraging me to become better but never asking me to change when I wasn’t ready to take that step. What really was the clincher was that I felt the need to change with Yusei just so I could measure up and get him to talk to me, somehow. Crow made me feel comfortable with myself.

Changing as a person’s important, but constantly changing without a break just for one person’s exhausting.  

“Aki, you sure?” he asked, his voice a whisper. “Is it really what you want?”

“As sure as I am about at least passing my Physics test tomorrow,” I joked, turning to face him, not even caring that he saw my tears anymore. “And I’m pretty confident about that now.”

“Aki . . .”

“Also, would it hurt you to be selfish for once in your life?” I asked with a “I can’t believe you” light-hearted tone. “If you hadn’t been so selfless, not wanting to complicate things for me and all, we wouldn’t have had this problem.”

Crow laughed, his cheeks a light shade of pink.

God, he’s cute.

“Okay, okay, my bad, my bad,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I guess you got me there. I’m sorry.”

After all he did for me that night, on my birthday, no less, he’s the one apologizing? He’s a mess. But, I was a mess too. At least we could both be messes together.

“Crow, it’s fine,” I murmured. I wrapped my arms around his neck, his around my waist. The two of us smiled.

“Don’t pull away this time, Aki,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” I whispered back, softly laughing.

“And try not to smash into my teeth. They’re the only ones I got.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

And he did. All of the romance movies I’d seen couldn’t even come close to preparing me for it because did he ever. Didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath first.

It’s a good thing he had his arms around me.

 After we let go, everything was out of focus.  My room was like one of those surrealist paintings and everything’s hazy and dreamlike. My head felt incredibly light and I struggled to keep my balance, so I didn’t let go of Crow right away. He didn’t seem to mind. He was still holding me, fortunately, his arms wrapped firmly yet gently around my lower back.

“You alright?” he whispered, his voice husky. It made my heart flutter.

“Yeah, but no sudden moves, okay?” I whispered, my face pressed against his shirt.

No verbal response, but I felt a quick kiss on the top of my forehead. And another. And one that lingered a while longer. I pressed my body firmer against his, a giggle escaping my lips.

I didn’t want the moment to end.

It was true I didn’t realize Crow was the one I liked – like that – until that evening, but it was that night that made me understand how much I’d fallen for him.

How much I wanted to do annoyingly cute couple things with him like go to the movies, watch the sunset, or just hold hands.

How much I wanted to just be with him, laugh with him, be with him every step of the way.

How much I just wanted to kiss him. Over and over and over again.

How much I wanted him.

I’d thought maybe it’s just a random feeling trying to complicate how I felt about Yusei. I was wrong.

The raw, fiery, yet tender romantic feelings.

They were all for Crow.

Life outside of this room still existed, the logical and reasonable side of my brain reminded me rudely, however. I still had that test tomorrow, Crow had that early shift in the morning, and Yliaster’s still very much a threat. I let go of him and took one step back.

“It’s getting late. You should probably go,” I said.

Crow closed his eyes and sighed, a smile on his face. “Well, I did say I had that early shift, so I guess I should.” The smile was exchanged for a frown however and he opened his eyes. “You gonna be alright? Your parents’re away on a trip, you told me.”

Always the worrier. I said, “Don’t worry. The security system’s pretty good on the house. They wouldn’t want to mess with me, anyway. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you off, if you want.”

Crow looked at me for a moment as if he wanted to say – or do, maybe? – something else. He shook his head and he and I, after grabbing the housekeys, made our way towards the front door. We stepped outside, the humid and muggy air overwhelming us, where his D-Wheel, Blackbird, was waiting.

“Well, I’m off,” he announced.

“Have a safe trip back,” I said. “I’ll let you know how the test goes tomorrow. Let me know when you get back to your place.”

“I will.”

“And . . . thanks for tonight, Crow. For everything,” I said, putting the key in my back pocket.

Crow threw out a “heh” under his breath and placed his thumb under my chin and his pointer finger on it, lifting it slightly.

“C-Crow?” I stammered, fire burning in my cheeks.

“What, can’t a guy give his girlfriend a goodnight kiss?” he asked innocently.

“You taking my kissing virginity in my own room wasn’t it?” I asked innocently right back.

“That was Part One. Or Part Two, if you count the one you nearly knocked out my teeth as Part One.”

“I said I was sorry.” I pouted.

“You did, so I’m counting it. So . . .  think of this as Part Three.” He moved his thumb lightly over my lips, his other hand finding its way to where band of my white shorts was and pushing me forward until the only space between us was between our lips. My heart raced, butterflies fluttering about wildly in my stomach, not out of nervousness. No, not even close.

It was excitement and passion.

It was.

It was love.

No other words needed to be said between us. The last kiss, the last tender . . . slightly noisier moment we shared that night said everything else.

It was a good thing the Izayoi family didn’t have neighbors.

It was even a better thing I put the housekey in my back pocket.

Because I would’ve dropped it.

 I watch as Crow drove to the main street, his D-Wheel disappearing from view. I unlock the door to the house, making my way towards my room again. It feels weird being here by myself after having been held, but . . . it’s a good kind of weird.  

I glance at my physics notebook. What had looked like confusing terms and formulas actually makes sense to me now. If I just went over it before the test the next day, I’ll be good to go. My friends are certainly going to appreciate it, since no doubt they’ll ask me for advice. To think just looking at it used to give me a headache. To think those were the only problems I thought needed solving. How quickly things can change, huh?

I stretch and start getting ready for bed. I put on my loose-fitting pink pajamas – a long sleeved shirt and shorts – and brush my teeth. I let my hair hang completely loose when my phone wildly buzzed. Three text messages: one from Papa, one from Yusei, and one from Crow.

Papa wants to make sure I was okay with being home alone for one more night and he and Mama are sorry they couldn’t be there for my birthday this year. On other years, I would’ve been incredibly bothered, but I don’t mind this time around. I tell him that. I didn’t tell him why, of course and for obvious reasons relating to why I was glad we didn’t have neighbors.

But, naturally, he’s curious as to why, since it’s the first time I’ve ever said that about them being gone. I’m hesitant to answer since Papa and Mama are both convinced somehow Yusei’s my future husband. But, I have to tell them sometime – just not over text. So, I reply, “It’s a lot for just a text. I’ll just tell you when you two get back.”  

Yusei texted saying he and Jack would be back in Japan momentarily. I stare at the text for a good moment, processing that this was the guy I used to be head over heels for. I respond back with a “see you soon!”, being grateful I’ve finally figured out how I feel about him. A load had been swiftly lifted from my shoulders.

Crow actually remembered somehow in that kissing-obsessed brain of his and let me know that he got home safe, but Bruno kept asking a lot of questions and that took some time. I laugh at that one. But, the second part of the text made me tear up a little. Okay, maybe slightly more than a little. Okay, actually a lot.  

“Make sure you get plenty of sleep, Aki. And good luck tomorrow! I love you!”

I wipe the tears from my eyes. As a child, I always wanted my life to be like a romance genre movie, if only I’d be happy for a day or two. I wanted someone to tell me they love me, to hold me close and say everything will be fine. That was it.

But, what just happened on my seventeenth birthday, awkward moments and breakdowns and all, was so much better than any romance movie. It’s the best present ever. And the best part was I’d be with him for more than two days. Replaying the evening’s events in my mind, I gently trace over my lips with my finger. They’ve been through a lot, especially without chapstick. In a good way.  

I’d still take fighting a worldwide threat over a physics test, but if I had to take the test instead, I wouldn’t mind it.

“I love you too, Crow.”