#THIS IS FOR THE PRE-CANON ONESHOT TO BE CLEAR

[definitelynotshouting]

TOMORROW

[sl-vega]

✧.* DREAMS LOST, LOVE FOUND

pairing: Chigiri Hyouma x [IDOL!] Reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, oneshot, strangers to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, pre-bluelock au, canon compliant

synopsis: in which two former geniuses bond over their potentially lost dreams (or in which two strangers develop feelings by making fun of cheesy news articles about themselves)

CW: potentially ooc chigiri, possible innaccuracies with vocal chord paralysis conditions/symptoms 

"(Y/N) (L/N): A Bright Star that Burned out too Quickly"

"Idol (Y/N) Retiring?!"

"ASRUN's (L/N)'s Career Over?! Get the latest scoop now!"

You scrolled through the magazines in the waiting room. So many cheesy tabloids talking about your latest concert, and possibly last. You froze up on stage, and your voice just didn't work. The gossip columns came up with so many reasons, ranging from fairly possible to completely bizarre. But they all seemed to come to the same conclusion.

Your career was over.

Ended, finished, decimated, completely and utterly over.

And deep down, you knew that. The doctors said that there was a chance that you could recover, even if it didn't occur naturally, surgery was always an option.

You had recently been diagnosed with vocal chord paralysis, which prohibited your ability to talk and sing. And no singing meant no concerts.

No concerts meant no more performing.

No more performing meant that you couldn't be an idol anymore.

You were told your worsened condition had something to do with your hectic rehearsal schedule, and how you pushed yourself to the point of self-harm during practice. Suzuki, the nurse that had been assigned to assist you, insisted that you come to the clinic for weekly check-ups and vocal warm ups.

Your agency managed to fund all of this because they wanted you back performing with the rest of your group members as soon as possible.

But you weren't sure if you could even continue to perform. You could deny it all you wanted, but you weren't in shape to be an idol anymore.

So here you are, rotting in a waiting room, waiting for your parents to come and get you. Once a musical sensation, once hailed as the pride of the idol industry.

Now I'm nothing more than a helpless patient.

You leaned back in your chair, a random sports article in your hand. You hadn't paid any mind to what it was about when you picked it up, all you knew was that it wasn't about you and your doomed career, and that was all you needed.

But your parents weren't coming anytime soon, and you needed to kill some time, so reading a couple pages wouldn't hurt. You glanced at the front cover. It appeared to be some local newspaper that covered soccer teams in the prefecture.

"Chigiri Hyouma: The Red Leopard!"

The front page had those words printed out in a vibrant pink font. You snorted, it would be one thing if this was about some world-class pro, but all this fuss over a high school kid? The picture on the front page wasn't the best either, it was a blur of bright red hair and you could make out what seemed to be a jersey.

But you couldn't discern a clear image of his face though. So naturally, out of curiosity, you had to flip the page.

Chigiri Hyouma huh? You heard that name mentioned somewhere before. You remembered passing by a few girls a couple of months ago that couldn't seem to shut up about him.

Please, he's probably just some amateur that happens to be somewhat good looking, there's no way he's actually all that-

But, it certainly wouldn't hurt to read about him a little more...

And so you did just that, flipping to the next page due to your insatiable curiosity about this Chigiri fellow.

Let's see what you're all about Mr. Red Leopard-

You finally flipped the page not expecting much, but then you were greeted by a very flattering image of the very subject that peaked your interest.

Holy fuck he's really pretty

Luscious red locks, bright pink eyes that you could get lost in, gentle, feminine features yet he still looked so god damn handsome?!

Your eyes widened as a blush crept up to your face. What was this guy doing playing soccer?! He could've easily been a model, or an idol, or a movie star, you weren't even that pretty what the actual fu-

You had to stop your train of thought. You weren't seriously crushing on a photo of some stranger were you?

Yet, against your better judgment, you continued reading the article, it listed a few details such as his stats, position, and his high school among other.

You were consuming all of this information at an oddly fast rate. Why was this guy so captivating to you?

Before you knew it you had sped through the article. And you had somehow memorized everything on those few pages.

God, I'm pathetic...

You rubbed your temples and sighed, you put the article down, and you were about to read a different magazine about something other than your new found infatuation, but as your hand was about to reach to some political newspaper, your gaze quickly shifted to another photo of a familiar red head.

Another article about him?

Looks like someone's local celebrity...

You moved your hand away from the previous paper you were about to pick up, and you exchanged the current article in your hand for the other one about your newest subject of interest.

Surely one more magazine about him wouldn't hurt....

The front cover was a clearer photo of Chigiri, but it wasn't the happiest. It was a picture of him leaning against one of his teammates for support as they escorted him off the field.

"The Red Leopard's Career: OVER?!"

It was from the same local paper that you were reading earlier, seemed the editors had a soft spot for him.

"Chigiri Hyouma damages his leg in his most recent match?! Further statements are awaited from his family, could this be the end of the genius speedster?"

You sighed at the writer's attempt to dramatize the situation, surely Chigri was in pain. Having something you're so passionate about being taken away my your own physical limitations. You definitely knew the feeling.

The feeling of your dream being snatched right before your eyes. The feeling of a critical condition with some complicated-sounding name being the only thing keeping you away from your goal.

He's just like me...

Wait- what were you thinking? First you ogle at a bunch of photos at him, now you're coming up with a bunch of weird parasocial fantasies about how the two of you actually have some things in common?!

I need to get a grip...

You absentmindedly flipped to the next page of article, somewhere you had made peace in the back of your mind about your attraction to the boy. You were like some little school girl, crushing on some cute actor or model that you saw in fashion magazines.

Of course you were soon snapped out of that trance by an unfamiliar voice.

"Didn't know I was such a big deal that a world-class idol would be reading about me."

You lifted your head to the source of the voice, standing in front to you was a young man around your age leaning against a crutch.

Of course before you noticed any of that, you saw the same red hair, gorgeous pink eyes, and soft features that you had been religiously staring at for the past hour.

Holy shit it's actually him.

Holy shit, he knows who I am

HOLY SHIT CHIGIRI HYOUMA KNOWS WHO I AM-

You had a whirlwind of thoughts about the situation. And you had made a countless amount of observations about him. His hair was longer than it was in the pictures, he looked a lot leaner too, but taller as well.

You were probably shamelessly checking him out right about now, but who could blame you? If it wasn't for the crutch, and the evident exhaustion on his face, you would've thought he was an angel rather than a patient.

And so you did what you always did when confronted by an incredibly attractive person.

You panicked.

Am I checking him out? I'm probably checking him out, I should look away. But what if that's rude?! Should I continue making eye contact? Or should I avoid it?! WHY DIDN'T THEY TEACH ME HOW TO TALK TO BOYS WHEN I WAS A TRAINEE?!-

"It's rude to stare you know."

He had nonchalantly said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Oh god, even his voice was gorgeous

"Sorry..."

You muttered, looking down at the floor, averting his vivid eyes using any means necessary.

Great, now he probably thinks I'm a creep, nice going...

"Nah it's fine, sorry if I startled you when I came over, I recognized you 'cuz my sister's a fan, and you looked so engrossed in that article about me so I was pretty curious."

You simply muttered a quiet "Oh" in return.

Why am I like this?! He's trying to make an effort to talk to me, and I'm not even contributing at all!

He moved closer to you, he sat himself down on one of the seats close to you, and pulled out another sports magazine with his face on it.

"I never quite liked that one author that you're reading right now, has a habit of exaggerating the least important details and not giving the full story."

He handed the paper he was holding to you.

"This one's one of my personal favorites."

He smiled and handed the magazine to you. Your hands brushed, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His hands were really soft and gentle.

You took the article from his hand and opened it, your eyes greeted by a huge headlines in all caps; "Chigiri; RISING STAR OF THE FOOTBALL WORLD!"

You couldn't help but snort at the title, these editors were really something else.

"Cheesy I know, but it's better than most."

You giggled again, flipping through the pages of the booklet in your hands. You had pointed to a paragraphs that you had found amusing, to which Chigiri had said "Not everyone is a famous idol you know, some of us locals have to take whatever we can get!"

Next thing you knew, the two of you were talking like two old friends, giggling over silly comments and misconceptions that the media had about the two of you.

You didn't know how, but much time had passed, and quite frankly, you didn't care, Chigiri was charming, and rather fun to talk to.

Now, you were showing him a tabloid about some dating rumour about you and some model that your agency had done a collab with.

"Seriously? One slightly suggestive photo and now they think the two of you are hooking up? Wouldn't your managers be scrambling to cover that up? Doesn't it ruin your "idol" image or somethin'?"

"The higher ups at my job were trying to cover it up before realizing that this sort of publicity was actually pretty positive for my image."

You laughed as you pointed to a few more photos of you and said model. It was nice, being able to laugh about this with someone, it was nice, letting the pain go away, even for a little while. But, Chigiri was a lot more than just a distraction at this point.

Suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Sorry, let me check this real quick."

You took your phone out of your pocket, and it turned out that your father was outside of the clinic waiting for you. You tried to hide the disappointment on your face. You didn't want to leave just yet, not when you were finally making some progress with Chigiri.

But, your dad definitely wouldn't take it well if you wanted to stay out later with a boy, a new boy no less.

You sighed, shoving the device back into your pocket.

"I take it that you need to leave now?" Chigiri asked, maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, or maybe you were just super delusional, but it almost sounded like he was disappointed that you had to leave.

"Yeah, sorry..."

"It was nice meeting you, by the way."

He held out his hand.

"Chigiri Hyouma, but you probably know that by now."

You were confused by the gesture at first, you certainly did know his name by now, so why was he doing this?

Oh right, I was too busy crushing on him, so we never formerly introduced ourselves...

You placed your hand in his, reciprocating the handshake.

"(L/N) (Y/N)."

He smiled as you got up, your hand still intertwined with his, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and you almost felt your heart jump out of your body."

You really have me under your spell, Chigiri Hyouma...

[aquatik]

it’s cold outside , neuvillette 𓆝

synopsis from the shark lover -> not many know much about fontaine’s iudex, but one thing is for sure he does not particularly like the cold. so there must be a reason behind him wanting to visit one of the coldest places on teyvat, right?

@franciosn merry christmas! hi, its your secret santa for @2023gisecretsanta :) i tried to include a little bit of furina and kept it as canon as i could! hope you enjoy <3

genshin impact masterlist

characters -> neuvillette x reader, furina appearance

word count -> 2.2k

content -> oneshot; fluff, (mostly)true cannon, pre-archon quest, mutual pinning, friends to future lovers — gender neutral reader

the people of fontaine know little of their chief justice, truthfully speaking. it was rare to see the iudex out on the lively streets of the court of fontaine where countless gathered and proceeded with their lives. if it wasn’t for his consistent appearance in opera epiclese seated at the chief justice’s post, the people of fontaine would’ve assumed he was a phantom in their nation. 

nobody knows his true name as he wishes to be referred to as his surname. 

he has always rejected any form of relationship with the people of fontaine outside of the court in order to remain professional. the only exception to this is the melusines, as he is always found sporting a small smile whenever talking to them. he’s truly does view them as the pride of fontaine.  

and most importantly, he’s never been seen absent from the opera epiclese, ever so dedicated to his role as the chief justice of fontaine. 

at least, this is what furina knows. 

“EHHH!” furina exclaimed, shaking her hands outwards in disagreement. “No, no, no, that won’t do! Who’s going to be here to—uhm—run the court proceedings! Yes, run the court proceedings!” she smirked triumphantly, her hands resting on her hips.   

she huffed proudly, taking a few steps towards neuvillette, “my dear iudex, you can’t simply abandon your post…what about all of the cases?” 

she can confidently say she knows her chief justices by the back of her hand, in and out after all these years they’ve worked together. so why on teyvat would he be requesting a leave?

granted it was only for 5 days, but five days is five days! he’s never requested a leave, even refusing to take sick days!

he sighed, turning away to grab a glass of water, “lady furina, correct me if i’m wrong, but aren’t you the god of justice, focalors? surely you can handle a few days dealing with court proceedings, can't you?” he responded, fighting a chuckle from erupting from his throat at the expression now casted on her face.

“b-but—you don’t even like the cold! why in the name of teyvat would you visit one of the coldest places in the seven nations!” she stammered, taking small but quick steps towards him.

he was drinking from his glass, and she glanced to the side to see the glass bottle labeled from the cider lake found in mondstadt. she recalls him mentioning how the water in mondstadt had crisp and pure notes, not that she ever could tell the difference between the different waters of the nations. but wait, mondstadt? 

she glanced back over at the chief justice who was still drinking from his glass, but the clear vessel gave furina a straight reflection on the light pink dusting his cheeks. on that note, she could also see the tips of his ears blushing the same color.

she recalls again the faint whispers of rumors of the recent appearances of the chief justices in the the streets, who recently began glancing at one specific floral vendor stand. it was common for this vendor to have a lot of visitors, after all, they offered flowers from the seven different regions. what was uncommon was for the iudex of fontaine to consistently begin visiting the vendor, leaving every time with a bouquet. 

many thought their chief justice had a secret lover that he kept buying arrangements for, but furina knew otherwise. after all, how could she be the god of justice if she couldn’t solve such a simple case. it was clear to her: the secret lover, or at least, the one who caught his eye was the florist themself. 

well it would explain why new vases of freshly cut and cared for flowers kept filling his office. 

he shook his head, clearing his throat as he put the glass down, “well? am i wrong, lady furina?” he attempted to distract her, but he could see the playfulness in her eyes. 

furina smirked knowingly at the distant view in the chief justice’s eyes, “fine, fine. i suppose i can handle the court for a few days…i will cast judgment upon our courts!” she exclaimed, laughing while one hand rested over her stomach, the other lifting her top hat as she twirled it in the air. 

such theatrics only fitting for their archon. 

“monsieur neuvillette, are you sure you can accompany me?” you asked, reaching to grab your travel bag. “i should be fine on my own, you needn’t worry about me.”

the iudex chuckled gently, shaking his head, “like i said, i’ve been meaning to visit myself. it’s no worries.”

as you both walked to romaritime harbor, you hummed. “monsieur, if you don’t mind me asking…” you started, waiting for his response.

he nodded, “please, go on. you have no reason to hesitate to ask me any questions.” he answered.

“well, forgive me if it’s forward, but why must you visit dragonspine?”

his eyes widened ever so slightly and you began to wonder if you indeed did overstep. before you could correct yourself, he gently laughed.

“i suppose i didn't say why. please forgive me,” he said, turning to you. “i have a particular— well, i guess you could call it a hobby. i like drinking and tasting different waters. i’ve heard the water in dragonspine has a distinct taste to it, and it’s best to drink it as fresh as possible.”

you hummed once again, nodding, “well that does make sense. different minerals and the area surrounding the water source do play a role in the taste of the water, i’d suppose.”

his eyes widened gently again and this time he turned away. what you didn’t know is that usually whenever he brought up this hobby of his, people usually brushed it off, saying that all water tasted the same.

strange…what was that feeling in his chest…

he paid no mind to it further and you both continued your journey to romaritime harbor.

after you both made it to the romaritime harbor, you landed in qingce village. from there, you both began to travel towards the city of freedom. you both had planned to stay the night at an inn and in the morning head off to dragonspine.

“you said it was a variety of cecilia you were looking for, correct?” neuvillette asked as you both entered the borders of the land of anemo.

“correct!” you answered with a small smile. you walked over to a small patch of cecilia’s you had spotted. crouching down, your palm rested on the petals of the white flower. “cecilia’s are a flower native to mondstadt. once when i was exploring the foot dragonspine, i found a different variety which grew in the colder climates. truthfully, those cecilia’s started my love for botany.”

neuvillette hummed, crouching down to your level. you glanced over at him and saw a rather serious expression, failing to notice his eyes softening. 

you thought he was bored of your conversation but before you could apologize he hummed, “could you tell me more?”

“tell you more…?” you spoke with a hint of surprise in your voice.

he cleared his throat, standing back up, “well, yes. or perhaps that may be a conversation better suited for tomorrow’s expedition.”

you nodded, enjoying the subtle breeze passing by the both of you. “right…good idea. it’s about time to check in anyways.” 

“monsieur neuvillette, are you sure you don’t require another jacket? i’d be more than willing to get you another one—“

“it's quite alright, i don’t mind the cold,” he spoke through chattering teeth, betraying his words. even so, you found it rude to push otherwise. 

you both barely began to tread up the snow covered path and you could already tell he was uncomfortable by the cold. you had heard before how monsieur neuvillette wasn’t the most comfortable with the cold, which is why you found it strange he wanted to accompany you in the first place. surely there were companies that could send over dragonspine water?

nevertheless you sighed, rubbing your hands to create heat through friction, “alright, if you say so…”

besides the cold, the path up dragonspine always amazed you with its beauty. you could even see neuvillette appreciating said beauty though his shivering.

your original goal was to make it to starglow cavern, it’s where you’ve found the most cecilia’s in dragonspine in the past. but from the looks of it, you might have to call it early. you both made it to the entombed city and try as he might, you could tell neuvillette was starting to get uncomfortable with the cold.

“there should be a small patch of the cecilia’s up ahead from what i remember. we can grab those and head back down.”

neuvillette hummed, speaking through a shiver, “but surely you need much more than a small patch…”

you nodded, turning over to him, “well yes, but i’d rather not compromise your well-being. you might develop a cold at this rate,” you said, pointing at his nose how it had become red with the cold. strangely enough, it became redder in color when you called it out. 

you turned around quickly, not wanting to keep him in this weather, “i think i see a few up ahead!” you began walking quicker as neuvillette followed your snow covered footprints.

and you were right, there was a patch of cecilia’s that had a distinct blue glow to them. you hypothesized a while back that they adapted to the climate of the mountains and this was the result of that adaptation. you carefully picked them and placed them into your basket that was lined with cryo packets to keep them fresh.

you hummed gleefully, “alright, let’s go!”

neuvillette sighed, shaking his head, “my apologies, i didn’t mean to cut your trip short…”

“it’s alright, sometimes we don’t know our own limits,” you smiled gently at him. “now come on, i don’t want to be responsible for getting the iudex sick.”

he wordlessly took the basket from you, carrying it for you as you both began to descend the portion of the mountain. “rest assured, i rarely get sick.”

“then let me make sure this isn’t one of those rare occasions,” you playfully added.

neuvillette was waiting for you in front of the gates of mondstadt as you both had agreed on last night once returning from dragonspine. it had been about 10 minutes after your agreed time and he was beginning to worry. at this point, he almost contemplated warning a guard, but he was your figure walking towards the gates.

your eyes widened. you didn’t expect him to be at the gates yet, wasn’t your meeting time in an hour? that’s when it hit you: you might’ve lost track of time. 

“where have you been? i was starting to worry…” he started, walking towards you.

you laughed sheepishly, “sorry, i got sidetracked. but here, this is for you!” you said, reaching into your travel bag to get a flask of water. “i have a few more in my bag, don’t worry, it should stay fresh with the cryo packets.”

while you were explaining how the water should hopefully taste fresh, he had to think for a moment. water? well, yes. that was the original purpose he came along with you, or so everyone thought. but as he looked at you, you seemed to be in the same outfit from when you both went up dragonspine…

“thank you. but, did you go back up the mountain?” he asked, his eyes ever observant.

“not really,” you lied, “i had commissioned someone to get a few more cecilias and i thought it was a good opportunity to commission some of the flasks of water you wanted.”

“then why are you in mountain-climbing attire?” he asked, pushing more.

you hummed, “well i did have to meet them a bit into the mountain, i didn’t want to get cold.”

it took him a few moments but he nodded, “very well, my apologies for doubting you…”

then it dawned on him— you remembered his reason for joining you. you even went out of your way to commission someone to fulfill his wish. truthfully, he had exported water from dragonspine previously. he has heard water from dragonspine tastes better when freshly collected, but truthfully, he didn’t care about that this time around. he just wanted to spend time with you.

his cheeks dusted with pink at the realization as he turned away, coughing into his hand. “we should get going now.”

you nodded, “yeah, let me go change…” you gently responded, cheeks dusted with a blush that could’ve been confused for cold weather.

thankfully, he didn’t catch on it seemed. you did go back to dragonspine. while you could’ve commissioned someone to get more cecilias, you pride yourself in hand picking all the flowers in your store. there was also the fact you wanted to get neuvillette’s water. it made your heart race a little knowing he wanted to come with you and you felt bad having him leave empty handed. 

both of your white lies seemed to pay off.

while you both rode back to fontaine, neuvillette wondered how he could tell you the truth. perhaps over a nice dinner would suffice…

note -> merry christmas everyone &lt;3

@yyuangss @2023gisecretsanta

[wingsofthesun]

Astra Shepard Bio

Astra Shepard circa 2185 (Or Mass Effect 2); looks about the same a year later, but grew her hair out during house arrest because she was feeling very petty against the Alliance for everything

Class: Infiltrator Pre-Service History: Colonist Psychological Profile: War Hero Morality: Paragade (most major decisions are paragon, but will happily take a renegade dialogue option or interrupt depending on the context)

The Shepard featured in my series To Stars (series of oneshots or short stories that take place during ME2 and ME3) and After the Fire (series of likely longer stories set after the Destroy Ending of ME3, though slightly canon divergent in that the geth and EDI live). The two series are connected to each other, but can be read independently.

If I post anything specifically about her, it will be under the tag Astra Shepard here on this blog.

Biography under the cut:

Astra was born to Hannah and John Shepard in Canada on Earth, and the entire family moved to Mindoir when colonization opened to civilians when Astra was three. (The First Contact War actually made it cheaper to move because the people in charge erroneously thought it would make people scared to move. They were wrong.)

Astra had an average colonist childhood. John was a part owner of a small fruit orchard, growing both familiar Earth fruits and unique Mindoirian fruit safe for human consumption. Astra helped him once she was old enough, but she much preferred working with Hannah, who ran a small tech repair shop in the capital. Most of her knowledge of tech comes from those days working with her mom.

That all changed when Mindoir was attacked when she was 16. Batarian slavers, furious at the Alliance expanding, attacked the capital city of the colony. Astra was working with Hannah that day, and as soon as the sirens went off, Hannah rushed her daughter into the cellar of the building, where they had strong fields blocking any scanning or other outside tech use, as it was where they tested volitle devices. Hannah was killed keeping the slavers from finding her daughter, while John was killed while working in the fields.

Astra was found by then Commander David Anderson, who did everything he could to comfort the distraught teenager, basically becoming her guardian in all but name until they could bring her back to Earth. Even after that, he still checked in on her as much as possible, though he never interfered in her career.

Astra spent the next two years under the care of her great grandparents in Canada before joining the Alliance at age 18. Her great grandparents kept in touch with her, standing proudly in the audience when she received the Star of Terra and graduated as an N7, unfortunately peacefully dying shortly after the latter from old age. She took a leave of absence to process her grief and take care of their affairs.

In boot camp, Astra was immediately noted for her skills, both as an Infiltrator and in leadership, and she was fast tracked to command. She had a distinguished record even before the Skyllian Blitz, where she took charge and led the defense on the ground until reinforcements arrived. She received the Star of Terra for her work, but made it abundantly clear during the ceremony that she believed everyone that fought with her on the ground should receive one as well, not just her.

After that, Astra was invited into the N7 program, and she accepted. She was one of only four of her class to graduate as a full N7. A couple years later, after she was made a Lieutenant Commander, Anderson asked that she be assigned as his XO on the SSV Tokyo, as no one could accuse either of them of favoritism now. When Anderson was given command of the new SSV Normandy, he asked her to be his XO once again, and the rest is history.

Major Choices:

Mass Effect 1

Saved everyone on Feros, spared Shiala, killed the ExoGeni corporate shill that tried to kill everyone because they said to

Very reluctantly spared Balak to save the hostages

Spared the rachni queen

Wrex survived Virmire

Ashley survived Virmire

Completed the Garrus/Wrex/Tali personal missions (let Garrus kill Saleon, and gaveTali the geth data)

Saved the Council and chose Anderson as Councilor

Romanced no one

Mass Effect 2

Recruited all 12 squadmates and gained everyone's loyalty

Stood in Garrus' shot and let him decide to spare Sidonis

Tali was not exiled, and her father's crimes were not exposed

Saved Maelon's data

Sent David Archer to Grissom, and the literal only reason Gavin didn't die is because she wasn't going to force David to watch

Destroyed the geth heretics

Saved the entire crew

Chose Garrus as the fireteam leader both times, Tali as the tech expert, Mordin to escort the crew back, and Jack as the biotic specialist

Destroyed the Collector Base

Did NOT do Arrival, and had turned herself in before it happened as a gesture of goodwill

Romanced Garrus

Mass Effect 3

Cured the genophage and Eve/Bakara survived

Saved Grissom Academy and sent Jack and the students to work as support

Spared the rachni queen once again

Ashley rejoined the crew

Samara and Falere both survived the monastery

Made peace between the quarians and geth

Miranda survived Horizon

Chose to destroy the Reapers with highest EMS

Romanced Garrus

[peachymilkandcream]

My Prize|Part 1|Viking Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: This one is the pre-written oneshot that I'm making canonical into a chapter. Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, big age difference, kidnapping, slavery, violence, power imbalance, implied somnophilia, forced pregnancies, mind breaking, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, forced exhibitionism, sexual coercion, blackmail, etc.

================================================

Levi had scoured these lands for years, trying to hedge out a living until he could build himself another ship to return to his mainland. When he had wrecked on this forgotten land he thought he’d never live to see another sunrise, he was a barbarian according to most, but that didn’t matter when it came to the cruel and unjust forces of nature. It was a wonder he lived this long.

But now he has a modest living situation, a little shack he could call home, food enough to live but miserably made. He was surviving, but not truly living.

During one trek that took him deeper in the forest for more appealing game he came across a clearing. He swore that he had searched this whole island for life but apparently had missed this crucial group.

While he stared he observed the younger women dancing together in a circle while the rest watched and cheered them on. The leader, a blond man with piercing blue eyes, watched one woman intently, earning Levi’s gaze to follow.

His breath caught in his throat. There in the middle with a crown of flowers and leaves danced perfection itself, clearly a goddess. Her dark hair off setting the bright colours in the crown and making her sea blue eyes shine with an intense vibrancy. No wonder the leader stared.

That’s when it hit Levi, what he was missing. A woman. A woman to take care of him and keep his house. That’s what his men had told him when confronting him about his upright attitude, he needed a woman.

And he believed he found one.

==================================

Levi approached the camp with his hands raised in the air, he couldn’t convince these people to give him a bride if he seemed hostile.

Sure enough weapons pointed at him, but the leader raised his hand to have them stay their blades.

“What brings you here traveller?” The man asked.

“To seek out my neighbours and wish them well. I thought I was on this accursed land all on my own.”

He’s eyed down carefully, the women huddling back while the men step closer should Levi try anything.

“What is your name traveller?”

“Levi Ackerman. I come from a far away land onto this island Paradise. My ship was wrecked and so I ended up here.”

“A Viking then?”

Levi nods, gauging the reaction.

“Welcome Levi Ackerman, I am Erwin Smith, and I lead this tribe. Come, join us so we might know our new friend better.”

Levi smirked and sat with them, happy this had so far gone well.

==================================

“I notice your women are much different from the ones where I come from. Where I’m from in Marley our women trudge about with sour faces, yours dance and make merry.”

“Indeed. Our women have a reason to be happy. They’re straight from the gods and should dance like dryaids in the trees.”

He nods, mouth dry as he watches the lovely brunette serving Erwin. “it would seem so, the one who waits on you is particularly lovely.”

“She is, Evelyn, my soon to be bride.”

It felt like a ton of bricks fell on Levi. Betrothed? But she was so young, and he couldn’t allow that. In his mind he had claimed her, this man had allowed a stranger in his camp without a second thought, he couldn’t be trusted with that fair creature.

“When-“ He coughs to hide the disgust at the thought. “When is the blessed day?”

“Three weeks from now, you stepped into our betrothal celebration.”

“So soon?”

“We don’t believe in long betrothals, just enough time to plan a small ceremony and allow a few of our ladies to make her a dress.”

“Then let me be the first outsider to offer you my congratulations.”

Erwin offers a half smile and nods. “It’s accepted gratefully.”

Levi stands suddenly. “Thank you, but I should be going, I live near by but I want to beat the rain in getting home.”

Again Erwin nods as he leaves, turning back to he beloved, not noticing the dark glare shot back his way from Levi.

==================================

That night his dreams are filled with poor Evelyn being bred by that weak and stupid man. She should have a warrior to wed and bed her. Those images in his head of her bent over and breathless, he should be the one behind her in th, not this Erwin.

He wanted her, had to have her. And he had only three weeks to enact a plan.

=================================

The night before the dreaded ceremony into the night Levi crept until he found himself outside of Evelyn’s little cabin.

It took little effort to subdue her and bring her back his home. Once there, the night was filled with aggressive and passionate love making, Levi never letting her have a moments rest to cry until his assault was completely.

Now he could rest easy, she was his.

==================================

With the dawn came Erwin to his doorstep, demanding his bride returned.

“You’re too late Erwin, I’ve already bred her, she’s filled with my seed and soon will give me a son.”

“Return her to me and I’ll overlook your insults.”

“Insults? Fine.” He returns with Evelyn, dragged by the hair. “Here’s your bride, I hope you don’t mind that I deflowered her and you might raise a bastard son.”

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes were furious but skeptical.

“You don’t huh.” Levi disappears into the cottage only to reappear and thrust sheets at Erwin, covered in a spot of blood. “You see? I’ve taken her innocence. Have your tainted bride.”

Erwin is silent for a long moment before turning his head in disgust. “Keep her then, use her as my offer for you to leave this land and never return.”

Levi grins wide. “As you wish, we’ll leave with the tide.”

He had finished his ship, and now he could bring his bride back home. Lucky bastard had plotted this whole thing.

“No Erwin no! Please don’t leave me to him! I would never give myself intentionally to any but you!” She cried.

“Silence your wailing. The truth is you’re tainted, there is your husband now woman. I’m through with you.” With that Erwin and his men leave the two of them.

Evelyn sobs in her hands while Levi pulls her on board, strapping her to the mast as he sets sail for Marley once more.

All in all this voyage was successful, he had honed his skills and retrieved a wife.

His prize.

[extralively]

Catoru

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character Silliness, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Satoru is turned into a cat, Crack Treated Seriously 3,782 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru gets turned into a cat, and Yura suddenly has to catsit the white furry menace until he turns back. (Normally I use images from the manga or anime for the banner above, but this time yes, I did just sketch out this Catoru doodle myself for this lmao)

.......So. I got a request to write a fic where Satoru gets turned into a cat, and while I didn't think I'd do it at first.... the ideas just came to me lmao. So here we are! This is basically just silliness and with minimal proofreading, and as usual, I ended up writing A Little Too Much of what was supposed to be something quick and stupid lol

This oneshot is part of a series, but it can be read as standalone if you just want to see Satoru being a furry menace. I also wouldn't consider this canon to the main fic (or maybe do if you want lmao), but it takes place *before* Satoru and Yura get together (so around 2014-ish). Enjoy this silly fun!

“...are you being serious right now?” Yura asked, completely incredulous as she stared at the sight in front of her.

Shoko snorted next to her. “It does sound like a joke, doesn’t it?”

“Meow.”

Yura stared.

Satoru got turned into a cat.

Satoru got turned into a cat.

“...Fucking hell,” she let out, rubbing a hand over her face.

“It’s temporary,” Shoko said, leaning against the file cabinet as they both stared at the white-haired, blue-eyed cat on top of her office’s desk. “Should clear up in a day or so. Apparently, the idiot met this guy who said he could ‘make you experience life as a cat’ and didn’t realize he’d meant that literally.”

“Meow.”

Yura let out an aggravated sigh as her gaze met the small blue eyes of a cat who was, undeniably, the idiot known as Gojo Satoru. Even if she found it hard to believe the whole story, she could feel it was him there through their connection, which made the experience all the more surreal. “Now what?” she asked, setting her hands on her hips.

Shoko shrugged. “You take care of him.”

Yura let out a huff, shooting Shoko a look. “I take care of him?”

“You’re the expert Gojo handler,” Shoko said, her fingers fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in her pocket. “Also, I’m a doctor and not a vet.”

“Meow!”

Yura only stared at the cat—Satoru. Satoru as a cat.

Honestly, of all things—

“Oh, and before you go,” Shoko started, moving to pick up something in her desk drawer and then moving in front of Satoru-the-cat. “Here.”

When Shoko stepped back, Yura was hit by the sudden urge to snort at the same time that she wanted to throttle Satoru’s furry little neck, because Shoko had placed tiny, round sunglasses on Satoru-the-cat’s head.

“...Where’d you even get those?” Yura couldn’t help but ask.

Shoko shot her a look. “You don’t wanna know.”

-

So Yura was supposed to take Satoru-as-a-cat home.

“Meow?” Satoru... meowed as she approached the desk, and he tilted his cat head at her.

“Why do you always drag me into your messes?” Yura half-heartedly complained, her hands on her hips again.

Satoru-the-cat got up from his sitting position, walking over—or rather wobbling over—to her. It seemed that he wasn’t exactly used to moving around with four cat legs instead of two human ones.

Yura suddenly had to bite her lip to keep a smile from popping out, because as much as she was completely exasperated at the situation... Satoru-the-cat actually looked really adorable.

“Meow?” he... said, looking up at her. One little paw reached out, pawing at the air to get her attention, and oh God that’s actually really cute.

So Yura reached out with a finger, touching the paw in the air and oh God it’s like a real cat.

“I guess... we just go home,” she eventually said, letting out a small sigh. “So how do I...?”

Her hands hovered above Satoru’s furry body, unsure how to... pick him up. She eventually took a hold of his... torso? Lifting him up off the table as he let out a surprised meow, his paws swinging in the air.

“Calm down, I’m going to need to carry you—” she started, but Satoru suddenly twisted in her hold when she brought him close to her, propelling himself up using her arm and torso as a jumping point to suddenly climb on to her shoulder. Yura had to try to keep him from falling off as he climbed up, but he then simply made himself comfortable there. “Seriously?” she asked as Satoru settled down on her shoulders, letting out a satisfied chirp.

Yura sighed again.

-

“Is that Gojo-san?” Ijichi asked with wide eyes as he stared at the white fur ball around her shoulders. As he recomposed himself, he reached out with a hand. “He’s actually kind of cute—”

“Rawr.” Satoru suddenly swiped at the man, somehow shooting Ijichi the same unimpressed look he’d often give the manager but in this tiny cat body.

“Now, now, be nice,” Yura chided Satoru, as Ijichi jumped back like he’d just remembered this wasn’t just any cat he was actually talking to.

“S-sorry, Gojo-san!” Ijichi stuttered out, rushing to get into the driver’s seat of the car. Yura had to ask Ijichi to drive her back to her place, since she didn’t think taking Satoru through public transit like this would go too well.

Yura climbed into the backseat, Satoru finally jumping down from her shoulders to sit next to her as she buckled up. He seemed restless, though, like he was still getting used to this new body, moving back and forth on the backseat, standing up on his hind legs to peer through the window, jumping down between her legs, and then surprising her by climbing up onto her lap. Yura could only blink down at the white furry mass on top of her thighs, watching him as he turned around in place until Satoru eventually seemed to settle down right there.

“Really?” she asked, amused, staring down at the white-haired cat that was actually Satoru sitting on her lap. Her mind suddenly pictured the human version of him trying to do the same, that tall giant of a man trying to make himself comfortable curled up into a ball on top of her thighs, and she snorted at the mental image.

“Meow?” Satoru asked, tilting his head up at her. But she only shook her head, looking out at the window.

“This is all so ridiculous...” she muttered, snorting again.

-

“Alright, here we are,” she said, letting Satoru jump off her shoulders again to land on her couch. They were finally in the safety of her own home, and all they could do was wait until Satoru went back to normal.

Satoru-the-cat started sniffing around the couch cushions, and she wondered what it was like seeing this familiar place with his new cat eyes. Wait, did his cat self still have the Six Eyes? Limitless? How did this even work?

“Do not scratch any of my furniture,” she suddenly felt the need to tell him. Satoru-the-cat turned his head to her, and even if she couldn’t see his little cat eyes behind the tiny sunglasses, she could tell the expression on his face wasn’t anything good as he menacingly raised a paw towards the arm of the couch. “Satoru,” she warned. But he only wiggled his paw, getting closer, and her eyes narrowed further. “Don’t make me pull out a spray bottle,” she told him, wagging her finger.

Satoru let out a whiny meow, lowering his paw.

Yura sighed, moving into the kitchen. She was a little hungry, and it reminded her that she probably should get Satoru something to eat too, right? But the problem was... what?

Pulling out her phone, she started looking up cat-appropriate foods. Meats, got it. But no sauces or seasonings of any kind. Also don’t give them milk because they’re generally lactose intolerant, and that one took her by surprise—you mean that all those movies and cartoons with cats drinking from saucers of milk had been lying to her this entire time? Oh wow.

Okay, she could probably cook up something simple for him.

Yura started moving around in her kitchen, vaguely noticing Satoru walking around her apartment—scolding him when he knocked something off a shelf—but focusing on getting food ready. And since she would have to wait to get her dinner ready, she decided to hold herself off with a couple of leftover cupcakes she had in her fridge from her last bakery run.

She opened the fridge, fetching the two chocolate pastries, and then placed them up on the counter—

And suddenly Satoru jumped up on it, surprising her.

“Satoru,” she called, watching as cat Satoru headed straight to something with his tiny mouth wide open in glee, something—

The cupcakes.

“No,” she said, picking him up off the counter. His four legs flailed around in the air as he let out an indignant squeak, but she paid him no mind as she placed him on the kitchen island instead.

And he then immediately jumped right back to the counter where the cupcakes were.

“Satoru, no,” she called once more, promptly picking him up again. Cat Satoru let out another frustrated meow, his paws trying to reach her cupcakes as she moved him away. “You can’t eat sweets right now, you are a cat.”

Satoru let out a loud, dramatic meow as she placed him on the kitchen island again. And he instantly tried to jump to the counter once more, but she caught him in mid-air.

“Satoru,” she chided him, holding him against her side. Cat Satoru looked up at her, and if he were human, she was sure he’d be pouting. “I don’t know how biology works right now, but you are a cat. So there’s a big chance that if you eat any sweets as you are, it might just kill you. Stay away.”

Satoru paused for a moment, and they just stared at each other. Then he started wiggling again in her arms, trying to reach the counter, and she let out an aggravated sigh.

“So a time out, then,” she said, walking out of the kitchen and to her bedroom. “Since you can’t behave, you’re gonna have to wait right here.”

Yura shot him a stern look as she placed him inside her bedroom, his little head tilting in confusion for a moment before she closed the door and left him inside.

“You stay there until dinner is ready,” she called through the door, snorting again at this absurd situation as she heard the whiny meows coming from the other side.

Because honestly, Satoru would absolutely eat those cupcakes given the chance, and considering they were chocolate—that literally might kill him.

Satoru scratched at the door, meowing in a very dramatic and Satoru-like fashion as she turned away, walking back to the kitchen and—

There he was, sitting on top of the counter, tail swishing behind him.

Hehe, she could practically hear from him.

“...You can still teleport?” she asked, incredulous.

“Meow,” he answered, looking like a very smug cat.

-

Yura was forced to put the cupcakes away again, and she made Satoru promise he wouldn’t try to eat any sweets unless he wanted to die in a cat’s body. That, and the fact that she threatened to make him eat actual cat food got him to actually settle down as she cooked some chicken and eggs for him to have as dinner.

“So,” she started once they were both done eating, letting out a sigh. “Now what?”

“Mrrh?” Satoru chirped, his cat tongue slipping out to lick around his mouth, his ears twitching.

...Okay, he’s very cute.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Yura asked. Might as well, right?

Satoru seemed to chirp in agreement, and he followed her as she moved to the couch, jumping up on it next to her. It was certainly odd, making herself comfortable to watch a movie with Satoru when he was a cat, but she could still feel his presence there next to her, assuring her that this really was Satoru. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was him back in human form, but then she suddenly felt two little paws on top of her thigh, and her eyes opened to peer down at him.

“What?” she asked, a little amused at the sight of cat Satoru half-standing perched up on her thigh, looking up at her.

“Meow,” he responded. She had no idea what that meant.

Satoru seemed to be sniffing at something in the air, his cat head moving around as he focused on something. Then he climbed onto her lap like he’d done in the car, and Yura stared down at him in amusement. “So you’re a lap cat, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“...Meow...” he responded... almost thoughtful.

Yura continued to stare at him, taking in the features of Satoru-as-a-cat. He was actually, truly, really cute, and she bit her lip as she stared at the way his tiny pink nose wiggled around in the air. When Satoru suddenly lifted a paw to swipe at his own head, purposefully knocking the tiny sunglasses off, familiar blue eyes blinked up at her. “Hi... kitty,” she called, and when Satoru’s tiny cat eyes narrowed up at her, she snickered. “Are you a good boy?” she teased.

Satoru let out a small huff, turning his head up. Yura wasn’t holding back the grin that spread across her face, and she ended up also not holding herself back when she got the urge to suddenly touch him.

She lifted a hand, slowly letting a finger touch his cat cheek. The whiskers tickled her skin, but as she finally made contact, the white fur felt extra soft to the touch, softer than when she would brush his hair sometimes. Ah, that’s right—Satoru was actually really fond of having his hair brushed, wasn’t he? So would he enjoy the same thing as a cat, she wondered...

She started to gently scratch at his cheek, watching as Satoru seemed to pause at the feeling... and then suddenly lean into it, his eyes closing as he pushed his head into her hand.

Yura’s smile widened as she started giving him scritches under his jaw, Satoru seemingly enjoying them and encouraging her further.

Then he started purring.

Yura had to bite at her lip—this was too much. “Satoru,” she called, moving her hand to rub at the top of his head. “You’re purring right now,” she told him, but he didn’t respond, his eyes closed as he seemed to enjoy getting petted.

Her grin widened.

Her other hand joined in, her thumbs rubbing at his cat cheeks. He only let out an appreciative meow, the purring never ceasing, and Yura kept indulging him, like she’d often do by brushing her hands through his hair after he’d make her take his blindfold off for him. But then Satoru suddenly moved forward, his front paws stepping on her stomach as he raised himself closer to her face, and she blinked down at the sudden proximity.

“What?” she asked, a little confused but also a little amused. Or a lot.

Satoru, as expected, didn’t say anything, only brought his head closer to her, nose sniffing the air. Yura blinked at him as his chilly little nose touched her chin, sniffing at her... before he suddenly started rubbing his head against her jaw.

She huffed out an amused laugh. “Satoru?” she asked, but Satoru only kept rubbing his cat head against her cheek, his fur and whiskers tickling her. He’d pause for a moment, nose sniffing at her again, before he went right back to rubbing his head against her... almost fiercely determined in his movements. “Honestly...” she huffed out again. Her hands had been hovering in the air, and she let them gently rest against Satoru’s white, furry back.

Was this a cat instinct of his? Well, she could indulge him on this, as long as he didn’t start humping her or anything...

-

If there was one thing she learned during this whole experience, it was that Satoru as a cat was really needy.

After he was done rubbing himself up on her, he settled down on her lap and proceeded to nap there as Yura watched the movie alone, letting her hands gently pet him every now and then. But when she had to get up to go to the bathroom, he did not seem to have appreciated being disturbed, letting out whiny meows as she told him that no, you can’t come with me.

Then after, when she tried getting some work done for the night, scattering a few reports on her bed that needed filling, Satoru said no. Or meowed a no, in this case, promptly sitting on top of the papers and refusing to move.

“Satoru,” she called, staring at him with a look that asked ‘are you serious’.

Satoru’s tail swished back and forth, silently responding with ‘yes, I am’.

She let out a heavy sigh. Honestly, this somehow felt so painfully in-character for him that she had to wonder if turning into a cat was what made him act more like one, or if he’d already had the soul of a cat deep, deep down.

It eventually got late enough that it was time to go to bed, so Yura started her nightly routine. She took a shower (and threatened to give Satoru a shower if he didn’t behave), and went to brush her teeth.

And Satoru refused to leave her alone.

“Meow,” he tried getting her attention, standing up on his hind legs with his front paws pressed against her leg.

“’m busy,” she said, spitting out toothpaste into the sink. “Just let me brush my teeth.”

“Meowww,” he whined.

Yura sighed. Weren’t cats supposed to be more independent or something?

“Do you want to go to the bathroom again?” she asked. At least Satoru was able to use the regular toilet, and she hadn’t needed to get a litterbox for him...

But cat Satoru shook his head, letting out a whine. He ended up jumping up on her washing machine next to her sink, perching himself up there and looking at her expectantly.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, but he shook his head. “What then?”

Satoru nodded his little head at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the artificial light of her bathroom.

Did he... did he want more petting?

Incredulous, Yura raised a hand—surely this wasn’t what he wanted?

But then he pushed his head into her hand, and Yura started giving him scritches again as she let out a huff.

This fucking cat.

-

At last, it was time to get to bed. But therein lay the problem: where was cat Satoru going to sleep?

Satoru had never really slept over her place, mostly due to the lack of space and he’d never had any need for it anyway. So should she make him sleep out on the living room couch? Yura felt a little guilty at the thought, the image of this tiny bundle of white fur staying all alone by himself out there making him look oddly vulnerable in her mind. And considering that he refused to stay away from her anyway... into her bedroom they went.

“Here,” she said, setting her fluffiest blanket into a small nest for him at the foot of the bed. “You can sleep here.”

“Meow?” Satoru let out, jumping up on her bed and investigating the makeshift cat bed.

It felt a little surreal, going to sleep with Satoru right there next to her, in the same bed... but as a cat. Well, the entire day had felt very surreal, to be fair, so it was finally time to end it and hope that tomorrow this whole thing would eventually fix itself at some point.

Yura settled into her usual spot on the bed, slipping under the covers on her side, her eyes then landing on the white furball next to her.

“You alright in there?” she asked, and Satoru turned his cat head to her.

“Meow,” he replied. That sounded good enough to her.

Yura closed her eyes.

And a few moments later, she felt the bed shift, a warm small weight settling right against her stomach. She cracked an eye open, seeing the white cat that was Satoru curling himself into a ball against her.

“Satoru?” she asked, but he only responded with a quiet chirp, curling further into himself.

Yura let out yet another sigh. She had read somewhere that cats had higher body temperatures and that they liked the heat, so maybe he was just cold.

She lifted a hand, rubbing a knuckle on the top of his head. “Just go to sleep, and maybe you’ll wake up human again tomorrow,” she told him.

“Meow...” he responded, and started purring again.

A smile spread across her face as she closed her eyes.

(When Yura had been halfway to sleep, she felt a warm thing suddenly start to burrow itself under her arm. It felt nice, and soft, so Yura brought it closer to her chest, holding it to her.)

-

Yura eventually started waking up, bit by bit.

And the first thing she noticed was the warm thing that was pressed against her—not unpleasant, just unusual. Her brows furrowed at the feeling, because this thing was warm and heavy against her side, something rubbing itself against her chest and making her feel funny.

So she cracked her eyes open and peered down, her gaze being immediately met by a headful of white hair.

Ah, Satoru, her mind supplied. But hold on—Satoru had been turned into a cat yesterday, she suddenly recalled. But hold on again—this was definitely a person-sized thing that was in bed with her.

“Satoru...” she called, trying to shift back to look at him. But no go, Satoru had a strong arm locked around her torso, keeping her in place as he rubbed his head against her chest.

Was he still purring or was that just her imagination...?

Yura tried pulling back again but Satoru held on tighter, a sudden realization that he was rubbing his face against her breasts making a wave of heat shoot up across her face.

“S-Satoru,” she stammered out, wakefulness finally coming over her as she pushed him back with more force. “You’re human again, get off.”

That seemed to have finally stirred him awake, his head eventually shifting up to blink up at her with blue sleepy eyes—human eyes now. His hold on her loosened, and she took the opportunity to push him away from her. Her eyes scanned his form, trying to check if everything was back in place now, her eyes going lower and lower—

Yura let out a loud squeak, jumping off the bed. “You are naked—”

“Me—ow,” he let out as she pushed him off the bed, ungracefully falling onto the floor with a bedsheet thrown over him. “…This is animal abuse.”

Yura let out a huff, welcoming back Satoru’s familiar voice after all those meows yesterday—at the same time that she wanted to smack his finally human face.

(And she tried very hard to ignore his very human bare chest as he only dignified himself to cover his bottom half with the fallen bedsheet, her face burning because yes, she had also just caught an eyeful of very human privates just a moment before…)

End notes: (Yes, I did not know how to end this lol)

Anyway, this was just some silly side fun as I struggle writing some chapters of the main fic, welp. Turns out it's a lot more fun to picture Satoru as a cat instead! Bonus points if you're familiar with cat behavior and figured out what cat Satoru was doing rubbing himself on Yura lmao. And since they weren't together here yet, Yura doesn't know how clingy and needy Satoru can really get as a human because sis, that is just his real self showing through when he has the excuse of 'being a cat' to hide behind lol.

Thank you for reading this dumb oneshot!

[chrysothronos]

clerical error

the outsiders | rated t | omegaverse darry-centric | pre-canon oneshot, 1k+.

The call comes a week and five days after the funeral, while Darry is trying to sort through the mountain of bills left for him, Ponyboy and Soda over at the Mathews place. "Hello, Mr. Darry Curtis. I'm calling from Social Services about your application for emergency legal guardianship. We seem to have had an error here up at the office and I wanted to clear it as soon as I can, given your situation."

[avoicebehindthestars]

Just A Voice here

My real name is Alruna. I'm 38, Scorpio, she/her, although I'm somewhere on the genderfluid spectrum. Sapioromantic, demisexual. Neurodivergent, hyperaestesiac, aphantasiac. Introverted, by I'll talk your ear off if you let me! I'm also pagan. I live with my lovely SO and two cats.

I'm here mostly to feed my current hyperfixation which is Good Omens with the brilliant fanart and metas this platform is flooded with! Sometimes I share my own little insights into this gorgeous narrative. I'm also a manga fan, although I know little of what is trendy these days. I enjoy watching figure ice skating.

My portfolio isn't at all impressive, but I have made several Good Omens fanarts:

Currently featured art: Eyes on Me for my fanfic Yuletide Whispers (colouring page available here)

Other fanart sorted by fanfics it was inspired by:

Find the Light by klikandtuna

The Light Finds You (colouring page available here)

Sky Clear Blue by klikandtuna

Magic (colouring page in the same post)

There Is a Light & It Never Goes Out by PhoenixRose314:

If We Each Did Half a Miracle

This Is Real (colouring page here)

Don't Fall Away From Me by PhoenixRose314:

A Name Long Forgotten

Where He Has Always Been

Before the World Ends

Weaving Memories

My Ritual of Worship

It Ends As It Began (a colouring page)

I also write and I'll be delighted if you check out my works on AO3:

Under the Samhain Sky (rated T, canon-compliant, romance and adventure set in pre-Christian Ireland)

Yuletide Whispers (rated T, canon-compliant, fluff & hurt/comfort)

You're Back (oneshot, rated T, canon-compliant, hurt/comfort, CW descriptions of migraine)

No Feelings So In Unison (oneshot, rated G, post-s2, hurt/comfort)

Fin (oneshot, rated G, post-Second Coming, bittersweet, meta)

A Wish Your Heart Made (oneshot, rated G, post-Second Coming, hurt no comfort)

I Believe I Am Owed a Toss (oneshot, rated E, very NSFW!)

[arminsumi]

hi! hope you're doing good :)

i love your work, especially bookstore boy, literally blushing and kicking my feet while reading it 🫶🏼🫶🏼

i wanted to make an armin request of a drabble, one shot or whatever you prefer ofc about reader getting hurt in a mission and left unconscious, when they wake up after a few hours the first thing they see is armin and they say something like "i knew you'd be here" because he's always taking care of reader and he goes like "i'll always be by your side”

sorry if it's too specific if you don't like it just ignore this Imao, also sorry cuz english in not my first language

Aw! I deeply appreciate your praise, thank you! And ty for your request, I hope you like how it turned out.

P.s. your English is really good, don't worry!

By Your Side

Oneshot / A. Arlert

Armin has always been there for you through thick and thin, even way back when you were just cadets.

Cws; fluff, light angst, mentions injuries, pre-est friendship

Notes; gn!Y/n, canon au

Rec ♫ : By Your Side

"Armin, you're wringing your hands again." Mikasa commented.

So he stopped immediately, and heaved a sigh. His eyes were like pools of blue, reflecting his inner worries at all who looked into them.

"Y/n's gonna be okay." She said, to try and help settling his knotting nerves.

Armin pursed his lips and looked over at you. It had been hours since they withdrew from the expedition, but your eyes were still tightly shut.

"I could have done more." Armin said regretfully, his voice full of cracks like a broken stone.

But what more could he have done?

"Armin, Y/n's here because you saved them. Don't be so hard on yourself, it was a difficult situation." Mikasa said.

Armin kept his worried eyes on you. Meanwhile, your chest was peacefully rising and falling, your mind at bliss in a long dream.

"I'm gonna go check on Eren." Mikasa sighed, "Will you preoccupy yourself? Don't just sit here and fret until she wakes up."

"I'll be fine." Armin said curtly.

Mikasa gave him a long look, and then drew her gaze to you. A thought drifted across her mind; what if Armin hadn't been there in time to save you? Would you be gone?

She left the room and let the door gently come to a close. Armin remained sitting by your side, looking over your features with his brows tensed together.

The sight of your ailments upset him so much that he wished he could heal you with all the energy in his body. Or better yet, take you away from this cruel world to an idyllic refuge, where he could enjoy every passing day with you.

The idea of growing old with you, settled in a charming cottage out in the countryside, brought tears to his eyes. They welled up like they had surfaced from a deep place within him.

Just before his first teardrop fell, you stirred awake. Ah, your friendship really had a thing for perfect timing, didn't it?

The first thing you felt, surprisingly, was not the dull throb of your ailments, but Armin's presence. Even before opening your eyes, you knew he was sitting right by your side.

Your eyes felt like a microscope struggling to bring the image of reality into focus. They were tightly creased from both the pain and bleariness of waking up.

Then Armin's soft voice broke the silence. At first, he sounded far away, but slowly, with each syllable, his voice came closer to you.

"Y/n? Can you hear me? No, no, don't get up, stay right there, you're wounded."

You tried to raise your body, but he pressed two palms against your shoulders and made you lay back. His warmth felt comforting.

His voice soothed your uneasiness, "Don't worry, you're safe. Everyone is safe; we're back at camp."

You cleared your throat a few times, and let out a cough when you tried to speak. So Armin hurried a glass of water to you.

"Drink this." He instructed softly.

You took a few small sips, and felt your throat clear.

"Are you injured, too?" Were the first words you spoke.

Armin's heart fluttered happily at the sound of your voice. You were just fine.

"I've just got minor ailments — I'm okay, really. You've got it the worst." He sighed, "I'm sorry... I should have been quicker." He looked at you regretfully.

"What exactly happened?" You asked.

Armin took in a quick breath, and used that same breath to tell you everything.

" — and, well, when the buildings nearby collapsed, I think something hit your head because you went down like a dying spark. I was so worried — I!" Armin got choked up, "I barely made it in time to get you out of that mess before everything caved in."

Armin looked severe with regret, his brows were completely pinched together; lines formed between them, reminding you of the Commander. His likeness to Erwin grows by the day.

"Of course..." You said, your lips curling into a soft smile, "It makes sense that you'd be here, you're always at my side." You laughed.

Armin tensed his shoulders together and looked at you like a puppy. Your laugh had the power to dispel the worry from his brows, but at the same time it broke the dam within him and tears burst from his eyes.

He lunged to hug you as tight as he could without hurting your aching body. You felt all his warmth and affection rush over you like the tide of the sea.

"I — I promise, I'll always be right here, at your side." He muttered into your hair.

You felt a wet droplet patter onto your neck.

"I promise!" Armin choked out, embracing you tighter.

You took in his scent, and let his tender touch soothe your soul. So many memories flashed by in the back of your mind, spanning back as far as your cadet days with Armin.

The both of you were just kids then. But even though you and Armin had reached adulthood, at times like these, when he embraces you so tenderly, it feels like you're still the same two kids who blushed at each other in the canteen.

"Sorry... ahah, sorry for being... a bit dramatic." Armin laughed through his tears, pulling away after crying on your shoulder for some time.

"Don't say sorry." You smiled at him.

"Well, then what do I say?" He smiled lopsidedly, and rubbed the sorrows out of his eyes and face with his hands.

"Anything but sorry." You said.

Armin sniffled and looked at you.

"Then I'll say thank you."

You tilted your head at him, "That confuses me more than your apology!"

He laughed and, oh, that laugh really reminded you of the days gone by.

"Well — I — I meant, thank you for being here for me."

"Oh Armin, silly!" You laughed, "I should be thanking you! You've been caring for me since we were cadets."

"Ahah — have I?" He spoke humbly.

"You have! Remember way back when we were first training, you were the one who nursed my wounds after I fell out of the air - mind you, you took your sweet time." Armin tearily laughed as you reminisced, "And when we were accepted onto Levi's squad, do you remember how you braved Levi and stood up for me when he reprimanded me for - for whatever it was - I still remember that!"

"That all feels like it happened forever ago..." Armin said.

"It does." You nodded.

"I guess, yeah, you're right, I've always fussed over you." He admitted, and grew a bit red in the face.

"You have! And, so, I should be the one thanking you, not the other way 'round."

Armin rolled his eyes — ah, when was the last time he did that?

"I guess so... well, then. Go on. Appreciate me." He teased playfully.

You looked into his eyes. The urge to kiss him flashed across your body, but you refrained. Oh, if only you knew that Armin's been refraining from kissing you since day one.

"Thank you, Armin."

[actualbird]

“You don’t get it, Marius is…he’s not all the way well yet after…” Giann shoves his hand into his pocket, finding the paper slip and crumpling it at its edges, wearing it down. His words are clumsy but they keep coming, like they want to be heard. “He doesn’t talk as much anymore, he’s getting nightmares, we’ve been homeschooling him now because of everything but sometimes he can’t stand whoever the tutor of the week is if I’m not there. I’m the only one aside from Dad that he trusts, and Dad is busy, and it’s complicated, okay, it’s—” “I don’t doubt that it is,” Miss Santos interrupts, speaking slowly. “But it’s so complicated that it’s taking a toll on you. People can tell. And you can too, can’t you?” Despite the clear sky outside, Giann feels a chill inside of him spiderwebbing outwards. - Giann is called to the counselor’s office a few months after an incident that he’ll never forget. (or: that time in Marius’ childhood where he almost died trapped in the basement, but from Giann’s POV)

wc for complete oneshot: 3.3k gen fic, pre-canon, von hagen brothers feels fest

hey remember The Basement Incident? that super messed up thing in marius’ backstory that i keep bringing up all the time? well, i finally made a fic for it! from giann’s pov ;w;

give it a read if, like me, uve been craving for von hagen brothers feels lately. i hope someone out there enjoys this <3

[norsevvy]

making a quick masterpost of my prodigal son fics!! hopefully will be editing this with more in the near future >:)

describe the way the sun hit - https://archiveofourown.org/works/61672414 [finished | oneshot | brightwell | mutual pining | malcolm LOVES her]

It's clear and sunny out. He's sure that was the only reason Gil hadn't exiled him specifically to his apartment. Malcolm doesn't mind — he prefers being outside on days like these. It helps get him out of his head. She helps, too. Arguably more than a million sunny days with a suspicious lack of clouds.

(or, malcolm bright deeply adores dani powell)

you were a miracle, i was just holding your space - https://archiveofourown.org/works/62520433 [finished | oneshot | pre-canon | gil/jessica | miserable </3]

“Gil, please,” Jessica murmurs, her voice hardly above a whisper. She isn’t crying, though she doesn’t look like she’s completely free of it happening again. “This is what you do, I know. But please,” she whispers. “I can’t take this.” He’s quiet for a handful of seconds, watching as Jessica opens and closes her mouth, shaking her head. “This guilt, it’s—it’s eating me alive,” she whispers. “I can’t handle it. Please. Not tonight.” “Okay,” Gil says back, keeping his own voice soft. “What do you need from me?” “I don’t know,” Jessica says, simply. “Nothing you’d be willing,” she adds on. “I don’t know why I bother calling,” Jessica mutters, her gaze suddenly dipping down, drifting away from him. “It’s never you. You’re always—you understand. You’re the good part of it all. It’s just me,” she murmurs. “I suppose I’m terrible at being guilty, too.” “Not sure about that,” Gil offers. “I think you’ve got that down better than anyone else I’ve met.” Jessica laughs, shaking her head. “I suppose it’s something of a talent.”

(or, a look into gil and jessica's early relationship)

never been better -https://archiveofourown.org/works/61983073/chapters/158501161 [wip | 2/? chapters | brightwell | light angst (not the focus)]

“So do you,” Dani shoots back. “You like pain.” Malcolm hums, decidedly not answering that. “Still haven’t been shot twice and stabbed thrice, Detective Powell.” “I didn’t seek this out,” Dani scoffs, almost sounding offended. “You were two steps behind me. This wasn’t for fun.” “I know,” Malcolm assures her, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of sirens. “Hey. Your bus has arrived,” he turns back to beam at her. “If they ask, it was all me keeping you awake.” Dani laughs, her eyes narrowing immediately. “Those bedside manners,” she drawls out, tilting her head with a playful half-smile. “You gotta work on those. You are really bad at this.” “I’d like for this to not be an everyday sort of thing,” Malcolm suggests, glancing back over his shoulder. He’s been restless the entire time, but it’s suddenly surging again. He can feel himself starting to lose his mind a bit, the urge to yell at the paramedics to come over here faster burning a hole in his brain. “You and me both,” Dani mutters, shifting a little. “Alright. Get me up.”

(or, dani gets shot. malcolm's insistent on being there for the whole ride)

working on it -https://archiveofourown.org/works/60898588/chapters/155560459 [wip | 1/? chapters | brightwell | developing friendship / relationship]

Dani isn't a good friend, and neither is Malcolm Bright. It works. They work well enough. She doesn’t know how to be a friend or to have a friend, especially not a “friend” like Bright. Dani doesn’t mind him, and it’s clear enough that he doesn’t mind her. Whatever they have is unconventional, just like everything else about Bright. It’s all unconventional, he’s unconventional, this entire whatever between them is ridiculous, and Dani likes it. She’s sure half of it has to stem from the fact that she thrives in environments like this. Any place that’s out of the norm is a good enough place for her. Comfortability and stability are two words that Dani rarely shares a space with. The ever-changing everything with Malcolm Bright works well for her. She’s used to this. The warm familiarity is where things start getting uncomfortable for her. Bright's good at keeping that all very much so at bay.

(or, dani isn't good at friends. bright's even worse. they make it work well enough)

canary islands -https://archiveofourown.org/works/62801314/chapters/160786252 [wip | 1/2 chapters | brightwell | awkward, Painful confessions that aren't even romantic]

“I’m pretty clear on the fundamentals of birthdays,” Bright helpfully tells her, though Dani isn’t sure if she’s choosing to believe him or not. “Can I see it?” “Not in the stairwell,” Dani tells him. “Your apartment is literally ten seconds away at most. You can handle ten seconds, Bright.” “You don’t know that for sure,” Bright musess. “There could be a sudden, freak accident. Falling down several flights of stairs is no joke, Detective. Maybe a car could come flying in and hit me.” Dani laughs, not fully meaning to. “We’re two flights up. You think a car can get that much air just to take you down? No, wait,” Dani interrupts herself, “You think a car is purposefully hunting you,” she decides. “Not quite,” Bright offers, his eyes sparkling, catching in the light flooding through the window behind her. “I’m not exactly implying that a car is hunting me. It’s just a potential theory of a freak accident that would mean we don’t make it to my apartment door in ten seconds. It’s been ten seconds, by the way,” Bright says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Fifteen, actually. To be exact. Sixteen, now.”

(or, dani and malcolm celebrate his birthday)

spruce - https://archiveofourown.org/works/61138180 [finished | oneshot | brightwell | fondness against all odds]

“Gil has made the executive order that I have to get little trees. And that I must be accompanied,” Dani adds, rolling her eyes again. She had been pissed when he made that rule, though she never minded JT and Tally coming out with her. “So. Here we are.” When she looks back at Bright, he's grinning so wide that it has to hurt. “What?” Dani asks, laughing a little. “Nothing!” Bright laughs back, ducking his head. “Nothing at all. I just can't believe that I'm on babysitting duty this time around,” he says, grinning even harder at her. “That's all.” “It is not babysitting,” Dani scoffs, glaring at him. She can't quite stomp down her smile. “You know what?” She starts, grinning at the vaguely fearful look written all over Bright's face. “You can go sit in the car.” Bright immediately pouts at her, and Dani can only roll her eyes at how hard he's pretending to be upset. “I'm not doing that,” he announces. “It's almost Christmas. Where's your holiday spirit?” “Hm, I dunno,” Dani offers, arching an eyebrow at him. “Do you usually get visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

(or, dani and bright go christmas tree hunting)

marvelous - https://archiveofourown.org/works/60823024 [finished | oneshot | brightwell | grocery shopping because good god malcolm bright]

“Listen,” Bright immediately starts, a very obvious fake tone of indignance in his voice. Dani can see him fighting a smile — the corners of his lips keep turning upwards. “It's not my fault, okay? Serial killer father, remember?” “Yeah, no, I remember,” Dani helpfully assures him. “I don't exactly think that's an excuse for this, though.” “Oh, no, it is,” Bright equally helpfully assures her back. Dani can't help but roll her eyes at him all over again. “I think it's a good excuse for practically everything. A serial killer father tends to do more damage to your psyche than you'd think. My trauma surrounding boxed pancake mix is not to be understated, Detective Powell.” Dani laughs, ducking her head when she does. She can't help but grin at him, raising an eyebrow. “You're trying out jokes again?” “Depends,” Bright says, beaming back. “Was that a pity laugh?”

(or, dani and bright go grocery shopping)

[garmjin]

You Die Like Angels Sing

A pre-canon Dark Urge oneshot. I recently posted a drawing I made of this scene and couldn't stop thinking about it.

Summary:

Someone loved her once. They named her. She can't remember their voices, or what they looked like, but she remembers the shape of their hands. Safe hands, warm hands, guiding her own in the shape of Silvanus' oak leaf. The Urge awakens, drowning her in guilty blood.

The wind twists and whips the young druid’s hair around her face, the dark strands lined in honey-gleam that the setting sun draped over the forest clearing. The day was nearly over, the hour nearly here. What shape would be her first? Would she be a great owl like her parents? Was it something powerful and lithe, or something clever and lumbering, or something else entirely? The questions bit at her fingers as she waited, still, the shadows not yet reaching, her grip unwavering, hurry, hurry, hurry. 

The restlessness was pervasive among the other youths, lined just as she was in the edges of the sacred clearing. She was the only elf among them, the wood elf that held no chestnut or mahogany or olive or sage. Instead of the colors of the forest, she was stone, her eyes slate, her hair obsidian, her skin marble. The forest-dapple that should have celebrated itself everywhere was barely present, smattering her shoulders and lining the dark rings under her staring eyes. The emerald that should have bathed her long locks in color struggled to surface under the weight of the darkness. She was full of ‘should.’ 

The gentle lavender of the wildflowers swayed in the breeze as the wind died down, the protective guardian statues beginning to take on an otherworldly glow in the dimming light. Druidic runes, more ancient than the wood that bore them, give off their uncanny light in anticipation. 

It won’t be too much longer now. 

“The Treefather is with us,” an elder druid strides calmly into the semi-circle the younger druids form, spine unbowed from the many years of her long life and the holy symbol of the oak leaf emblazoned on her chest. In her hands, a mirror, lined with meticulously carved elk horn depicting the phases of the moon. “May his power imbue these hopeful druids, and may the moon shine her light on this Ceremony of First Shape.”

The others begin to fidget in anticipation, the elf the only one to remain perfectly still, her breathing the only indication that she isn’t a corpse. The youths go still under the gentle, stern stare of the elder. Her eyes linger on the elf, lips pressing into a thin line, before she resumes reciting her speech. 

“Silvanus teaches us that every thing has its season, and it is true. Whatever your fated Shape is, gifted to us on this night, we must give thanks, for all creatures have their place in nature.” She lifts the mirror to the sky, the sun dipping below the horizon and a scattering of stars barely not-yet-visible. “The Circle of the Moon is blessed with knowing our true Shape, by his grace and power, so that it may guide and be with us always.” 

The onlooking crowd - families, friends, lovers - stood just beyond the circle of river rocks that marked the edge of the sacred circle. Some clasped their hands together, as joyful and anxious as the loved one undergoing the Ceremony. Some stood straight, pride swelling in their chests and out of their eyes. Two were there for her, holding hands, grinning in pride and hope. She tried to keep her eyes ahead, but she knew where they were - her father’s moss-scale arms holding his wife close by his side, her fierce red hair catching the sunset like fire. 

I’ll make you proud, she had told them.

You already do.

A hush; the elder holds up her hands, the mirror star-bright and gleaming. 

It is time. 

She beckons for the first young man to approach. He isn’t from the city, but deep in the forest, his ceremonial garb decorated with tiny rabbit bones and his scent wild. The elder passes the mirror over him, druidic magic flowing up from the earth like roots into his body as she gives the incantation. His face is ecstatic, and he bursts into a flurry of dandelion seeds - then leaps out of the flash of light in the form of a giant hare, his eyes bright and his ears alert as the onlookers cheer. His claws dig keenly into the dirt as he races along the edge of the circle, joyous and swift. 

“A hare! You are blessed with swift action and the instinct to survive.” The magic fades, and he resumes his shape, a smile broad and plain on his face. He leaves the circle to join his family, welcomed with outstretched hands and caresses. 

The elf is to be last; the five before her take their turns, and all but one are rewarded with their first Shape - bear, heron, gecko, ram - each celebration rowdier than the last. The girl that was not able to assume a Shape is given reassurance that next year, she can try again. Her eyes swell with tears as she leaves the circle, lip quivering as she tries not to cry. 

Finally, it is her turn. The crowd is quietly moving away, except for two - the dragonborn and the tiefling - who stand as close as they can, breathlessly holding their oak leaves to their chests. 

The elder druid turns to her. “Are you ready, child?” 

“Yes,” she croaks out, throat suddenly dry. 

The mirror is held high, and the young elf feels the magic flowing from the soil into her feet. It’s warm, and strange, and echoes in her like a thunderstorm. Where others had leaves and flowers, ethereal brambles curl over her skin, brittle and dark and sharp. She feels the pulse under her skin, begging to be let in, and she opens herself to it. 

She bends forward, her arms splitting in two, her shoulders peeling away, her spine growing longer as fangs begin crowding her mouth. Indescribable joy swells in her as her fur, bright and gleaming, spreads over her skin. Her Shape! Its strength fills her bones, and its blood quickens in her veins, her heart singing in victory.

But instead of the clamorous cheering, the clearing is silent. The elder druid is backing away, the mirror clutched close to her, eyes wide and mouth twisted in horror. 

“What is that ?!” A voice cries out, and the lightness in her heart falters. Did she do something wrong again? She felt so beautiful, so powerful, surely…

“A displacer beast.” Another voice snarls, and she jumps as a rock lands just inches from her paw. “Silvanus does not claim you!” 

Her father has to hold her mother back as she lunges for the culprit, an eruption of violence and arguments catching the onlookers like a wildfire catches the reeds.

The elf wants to speak, but words are absent, her mind hollow and afraid. She can only give out a guttering hiss of hurt and confusion as another druid begins to step forward, his staff raised, before he is stopped by the outstretched hand of the elder. 

“Judgement is not yours, druid!” she snaps at him. “It is the power of Silvanus that gives her this Shape. Do you question it?”

He argues, but the girl can only curl into herself, her tail twisting close around her hind leg, her tentacles roiling and writhing around her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go . Her eyes search the faces of the Circle, seeing only hard stares and curled lips from the ones looking her way. 

She startles at the sudden onset of great wingbeats, her mother’s Giant Owl shape spreading its wings protectively as she lands with one talon on each side of her daughter. Her tawny feathers are trembling, puffed as far as they will go. Another rock hurtles toward them, and her mother blocks it with her claw, striking it out of the air with a screech. 

I just wanted to make you proud.

Her father yells for them to go. The magic is fading, and she feels the powerful shape slip away as she crawls onto the owl’s back, burying her face into its feathers. Her eyes barb with heat and shame as the last of the sunset’s light dies, the wind bearing them home as her mother catches it. 

All I did was make it worse. 

The following days fell into an awful sort of pattern. Her parents would leave before dawn, returning as night fell, fresh wounds and bruises on their bodies, their eyes exhausted but their arms warm.

She’d tried to apologize to them, offering to take their place, to help, something – but they would hear none of it, claiming it was their pride and duty as parents to care for their daughter. 

Those bruises are because of me, aren’t they? 

It wouldn’t be love if it didn’t hurt nobody. For you, we bear them gladly.

Deep into the night, she would wait, dutifully studying the Elvish homework from her tutor as the hours passed by. Her headaches were getting worse, her nightmares visiting her nightly, but she didn’t want to put even more on her parents’ shoulders. Sometimes she would pass out and wake up hours later, something sharp in her hands, her tongue bleeding from where she’d gripped it in her teeth. Nothing in her medicinal textbooks had anything that worked, no matter how hard she tried to find a solution.

Nobody had come to visit them since the Ceremony. Before, other druids would stop by, bartering and gossiping over her father’s special tea blend. Some would come to borrow her mother’s books, or leave her some new and interesting tome they’d come across. The hearth was cold and empty. Most of the time, she was alone in the house, tending to the garden they’d found her in when the weather was good. Guilt digs its teeth into her bones.

Her teeth grind against each other, her head swimming. It’s so late. Where could they be? The fog creeping along the edges of her vision wasn’t real. Its fingers would inch along her eyes, pulsing and grasping toward the center, but if she turned to look, it disappeared. She could hardly think over the rushing sound of blood in her head. She thinks she hears someone whispering, but it’s so quiet she can’t make it out. She’s so, so tired. Where are they?

She hears them, finally, her father’s body leaning heavily against the door as they push it open. She gets up to help them in, and her heart twists. He’s so much worse than any night before - his scales are covered in blood, gashes tearing across his chest as he carries her mother in. The smell of gore washes over her and she has to grip her eyes closed against the tremor of pleasure it brings her. Keep it together.  

Her mother’s eyes are closed, but she’s panting, hard. One of her horns is broken, blood welling out of the tip and pouring down her face, tail swinging wildly as she tries to balance with her husband’s help. He sets her down at the kitchen table, grabbing the healing kit from its recently-permanent spot near the mantle. Her mother groans in pain as he lifts a bandage away from a wound in her stomach. They aren’t skilled healers, and sloppy stitches kiss their way up her side. 

The elf can’t do anything more than the most basic healing spells, but it’s enough to stop the worst of the bleeding. They won’t tell her why this keeps happening, or what’s going on. 

The nightmares are the worst they’d ever been that night. Her head aches even in her dreams, and she drags her feet through an endless plane of waist-deep butchery, covered in its fair perfume. She grasps at the bones that jut up in her way, peeling them aside, piles of skin gripping her arms. She feels nothing but the pounding, deafening, stupefying heartbeat in her ears. She grips at a hand that reaches out for her face, blinking. 

It’s dark.

She breathes as the world rises from underwater, tilting and swaying even as she tries to focus. The hand doesn’t fade as the rest of the landscape of blood does, curling around her cheek as she holds it, slick and warm. 

I love you. It isn’t your fault. The fingers are trembling, even as she blinks and tries to hold onto the reality, her mind screaming against it. 

This isn’t you. We love you. She sobs as the hand loses its strength, her father’s whispers barely making it through. He breathes, a last, ragged gasp, and goes still, eyes black and flameless. 

She staggers backward, slipping on the stone floor. Everything is covered in blood, warm, sticky, wet, her face and the walls and the furniture run slick with it. She tastes it in her mouth, coppery and living. Why does it taste so good? There’s so much of it and her body craves more, more, to bathe in it and soak through. 

She stumbles out of the kitchen into her parents’ bedroom to warn her mother. Her mother is already flayed, her skin stretched along the bedframe, her remains scattered along her bed. The bandages that she’d carefully applied to help her mother heal were still stuck to her skin. 

She couldn’t breathe, her lungs dripped in dread. Was this her doing? Its horrific artistry felt familiar to her, it sat in her stomach like a toad, it thrilled at her brain stem, it wrapped her guts and pulled them free to coil on the ground. 

“Ooh, how delightfully vicious, master!” A chipper voice cuts through her petrified vortex of thought. “I knew you were special! Your father has such great hopes for you.” 

Her father is dead on the floor. She blinks at the diminutive creature as it bows obsequiously, its snake-bone hat gripped in its claws as it speaks to her. It grins as she tries to explain, teeth sharp, eyes wicked and pleased. 

“There’s no need to pretend with me, master. I am, and have always been, your loyal and ever-adoring butler - Sceleritas Fel.” He bows again, and gestures with his claw to the door. “Your father will be most pleased, yes, most pleased with your progress. I’ve come to take you home.” 

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

(Visit me on Ao3)

[mana-sputachu]

I: 3 and 4

II: 1 6 and 10

III: 10 and 13

IV: 10 and 11

This asks for OTP 3 (kyo-iori-chizuru)

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

3 - Who felt romantic feelings first?

I'd say Iori. He and Chizuru where a couple already when the polycule happened (I never went into details about how it happene, in the stories I have already published, but I do have the start of a multichapter story that's centered around it… I dunno if I'll continue it or repurpose what I already have into oneshots, but long story short: they were all a bit drunk, Kyo stumbled upon the couple kissing, and when he was about to leave they stopped him. And Kyo didn't refuse the invite), and we know he canonically wants to befriend Kyo, so he was probably very eager to put the rivarly behind… maybe not this way, but you can't decide what your heart will do, no?

4 - Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Kyo, absolutely. It happened all so fast and in such an absurd way that he ran away and ghosted Iori and Chizuru for a while, in the hope to sort his feelings out. Not the most mature thing to do, but he was confused - it had been a threesome with his teammates, people always said he could barely stand, and one was his rival. ANOTHER MAN. And while my Iori has been openly bi for a while, Kyo discovered it while drunk… and with his rival, no less. Their start as a throuple was surely a mess, lol.

II. GENERAL

1 - Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

Again, it was Kyo. It was a very, very rocky start since he was very nervous around Iori, who on the other hand didn't take it well but instead to talk to Kyo he shut him off: as I said in my IoriChi answer to this same test, my Iori is a bit wary of relationships with men because he has been burned in the past, and since this is Kyo… he was scared he could react this way, realizing somehow it was just a mistake due to alcohol, find Iori disgusting because he's man, and so on. It took Kyo a big effort to finally talk to Iori (he also promised Chizuru he would have done it, and he didn't want to disappoint her… or make her angry, knowing how protective of Iori she is), but they managed to clear it everything and finally start anew.

6 - How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

Oh, they all do.

On one hand, you have Iori and Chizuru who have been forced to grew quickly because of their upbringing, both with their fair share of traumas (Chizuru losing Maki, Iori's Orochi curse and his childhood as a Whole), very serious and with a job and adult responsibilities; by the start of the polycule they've been together for years on and off in my verse(s), they have their chemistry and balance, and are very protective of each other. On the other hand, you have Kyo, who has apparently the perfect life, he's the face of the Tournament, he's extrovert and has a loving family and had a perfect childhood with no traumatic events… in theory (SNK might forget his kidnapping by NESTS, but I DON'T). So they had their fair share of clashing, mostly Kyo not taking his responsibilities like getting a diploma, and treating everything too shallowly, the new relationship included (at least apparently); but also Iori and Chizuru insisting A LOT on this topic thinking they know better and that they're just helping, rather than sit with him and just… listen what he has to say and what he wants to do about it. They might be more mature than him on various aspect of life, but they're also kids who grew up too quickly and not always sure how to approach people or some topics (Iori especially).

But they also really works well together: as said, Iori and Chizuru have been together for years and both are walking traumas who bonded through that; Kyo didn't have such a terrible life (except the kidnapping), so the best he can do is be their Sunshine, literally and figuratively. He can't heal them, but he can be there when they need to cry, be their rock, holding them when they need to, making them laugh, and love them the way their families never did.

And about NESTS… who could understand Kyo better than them? Chizuru knew about it, Iori was there, they KNOW. They can understand him and, most importantly, listen to him (since he could never go into therapy… I mean, even tho KOF is an universe where people with weird powers and deities walking among normal people, which therapist would believe someone has been cloned?).

10- What are their parallels, whether in their personalities or their histories?

I think the previous answer covers this a bit, but also… the fact they're forced to keep fighting Orochi because that's what their clans do, with no chance to say no to this (When Iori got offered that possibility at the end of XIII he refused it and got his Magatama again, because he knows he has no choice. Without him Orochi can't be stopped, even if both Chizuru and Chin also told him to not get his Jewell back and try to live a normal life; and Kyo, we all know he ALWAYS complains about his role in all of this, that he doesn't want to do it, but even if he has to be forced, he always does his part).

Also, Iori and Chizuru have the parallel of both growing up quickly without much family support, losing people they loved and live ith that guilt, both losing their powers thanks to Ash's shenanigans. They also still do their job as Treasures, without having the choice of quitting (Chizuru's clan is the one keeping the Seal safe, for Iori is a personal issue since he's paying for the price of what his ancestor did 660 years ago).

They're also both quiet and reserved, whether Kyo is an extrovert (but that in the OT3, he uses this more cheerful part of his personality to make his lovers feels loved and cherished).

III. LOVE

10 - What do they like best about each other?

Aside from the obvious physical attraction they have for each other (I mean, Iori is gorgeous, Chizuru is basically a top model clad in miku attire and Kyo is definitely handsome when he keeps his mouth shut :p), they all have those aspect of each other they learned to love: Kyo might be childish at time, but more often than not, that side of him brings much joy in his lovers, as he's still capable to enjoy simple things that they never experienced before and maybe even just considered "not for them": for example, I always imagined both of them never had cotton candy when they were kids (it's not very "old fashioned clan"-like) and never thought of trying it once they grew up, so Kyo decided they HAD to try it, and loved how their faces lit up when observig how cotton candy is made and while trying it; or like, enjoying a bath all of them together (Iori's home tub is big enough for two people, but they manage to fit in there all even in three lol), having cookies and milk as a snack… he's able to make them experience that carefree part of life they never had, and making them feel loved. Also, the Kusanagi clan of course learned about the throuple, and while some members weren't very fond of it (old guard finds this too "weird", also, how dare Kyo to bring a YAGAMI inside the family?!), Saisyu and Shizuka welcomed them with open arms, so Kyo also gave them a loving family.

Kyo, on the other hand, is always amazed by how smart and hot his lovers are, but also how different they are from the idea he had of them: he learned Chizuru isn't only the strict priestess he knew, but also a dad-jokes lover pretty girl who shares with him his love for bikes, who enjoys cuddles and naps like him, and that behind that grumpy and scary attitude, Iori hides a caring personality who's extremely protective of his lovers and very nurtuting, caring about them in his own special ways (cooking for an army, but also keeping in mind all the things they love and be sure he stocks on those, like snacks and drink, or things they might find useful like what kind of wax they use for their bikes).

13 - How do they make up after an argument? Who is the first one to apologize?

It really depends by how big the argument is, but… in general, all of them are a bit childish in this, and stubborn, ending up being stuck on their positions and/or hiding their feelings and say everything is fine until they explode (this is mostly Chizuru, hiding everything until she can't hold it anymore) and they have a huge argument who either ends up with some tears and talk, or… another big argument and, hopefully, someone who finally decides to step in and talk. This has been Chizuru most of the times, as she's usually the most mature among them, but it really depends from what the reason of the argument was.

IV. DOMESTIC LIFE

10 - Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Chizuru and Kyo. Iori is a creative, a singer and a musician, so is not rare he either stays up late to works on his music, OR he wakes up in the middle of the night because he had thought of a great lyrics and he wants to write it down so he doesn't forget it and don't worry it will take me five minutes, go back to bed (and then he stays up until 6AM). But let's not forget Kyo's 3AM wtf questions, like "Why is called boob sweat and not HUMIDITITTIES?".

11 - Who hogs the blankets or takes up more than their fair share of the bed? Who puts their cold feet on the other? Who are the big and little spoons?

Iori is the blanked hoarder, he likes to curl in them, especially in winter. Chizuru moves a lot, so sometimes she takes too much space.

I never thought about the cold feet thing, but given my Kyo likes to try and hold them both when sleeping together, even putting his leg across both his lovers, then this is probably him, lol.

And the order for big/little spoon in the throuple is: Iori likes to big spoon Chizuru (tho he also really enjoy being hugged by her and bury his face in her chest. He does the same with Kyo), but he also loves being big spooned by Kyo. Kyo enjoys every kind of combo as long as he can touch and cuddle them (he's a very touchy-feel person and very cuddly, so as long as cuddles are involves he's down for it, giving, reciving, JUST LET HIM TOUCH HIS PARTNERS).

Thank you for your ask!

[red-bat-arse]

And to Fight Wars (AO3 Link)

Chapter 1

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

This is a oneshot I wrote (although maybe I might continue it?) where Steve moved away from Hawkins pre-canon and was made into the business heir his father wanted. However, when he's brought back to Hawkins in mid 1986 it's clear that his father was involved in something shady; because that's when he meets Eleven, trapped in a rundown lab.

*I don't do tag lists*

*

Steve hated his father.

For many reasons, not the least of which being that he was a cold hearted sonofabitch. Take your pick; he cheated on his wife; he pulled Steve away from his friends and life in Hawkins to be raised by nannies; his expectations had crushed his son under their weight for years; and he had died halfway around the world just one week before. The last one was the most pressing, as now Steve was left in charge of his business empire which, despite having the training beaten into him since he turned twelve, he'd never wanted to have to deal with in the first place.

At least now Steve could arrange for his mother to be properly cared for -yet another strike against the late Richard Harrington was that he'd abandoned Seline the year before when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Steve's mother hadn't exactly been the type for kind words or a gentle hand either, but by god, she deserved to at least go through recovery in comfort. Steve had settled it the day after he received word of the sudden death and hadn't spoken to her since, not even to arrange a funeral. Steve didn't know anyone who would want to go.

He spent the week between then and now offloading or liquidating what he could, and delegating the businesses that would be tied up for awhile, and he was exhausted. His father had known early on that getting his only son ready to inherit would require a backbreaking tutoring schedule and a firm hand on his neck, and while it had bred resentment all his life, Steve was reluctantly grateful for the skills he could now use to manage... all this.

He took a special glee in passing on the businesses his father used to be most proud or possessive over to those on the staff who he'd always scoffed at or looked down upon, whether for their disagreements with him or the fact that Steve got along with them, or both more often. Steve did tend to like people who pissed his father off, since he so rarely worked up the courage to do so himself. But yes, giving the law firm to Amanda, who'd had to deal with his father's leering for over two years now, was its own special kind of balm and well worth the lost sleep.

But, as he trudged into yet another meeting about yet another asset of his father's he hadn't known about, this part was beginning to get old. He should be happier that he would get to live the rest of his life more easily, sleeping better knowing the bastard was six feet under by now in a cheap grave, but something had him on edge. Steve was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For now it was a tenant who had been in the midst of renegotiating a renting price, which Steve could easily follow along with and win favour by doing the exact opposite of what he'd found written in Richard's notes. But he was sure that there would be something he didn't know how to handle very soon, and he didn't like being on the back foot, even hypothetically.

All he wanted to do was put his father's memory behind him and get on with his life. He was only twenty, he knew he was incredibly privileged to have the life he did, even if it had been hard in its own way -but now he could actually stop and think of a future that, maybe, could make him happy. A future he could be proud to talk about to a stranger in a bar, instead of shame faced deflection as he did now.

Of course, meeting with government people did not make things easy, which came about the very next day. Or, Steve reevaluated as he noticed the lack of identifying marks on any of the shirts, briefcases or letterheads of these people, maybe not the government. He knew his father had to have dealings with underground and other shady types, and those would take longer to dig out than anything legitimate. Thanks to his mother, he had experience with that as well.

"Given your father was so involved, we would be grateful to be considered for continued funding, Mr Harrington," the small, mousy looking man across the table from him was saying. They were using the office his father had kept in the city, on the top floor of the building for the shipping business he owned. "Our research is coming along quite well despite some recent delays, and given your father was looking to partner with us to bring it to the United States military, I'm confident it will produce the profit to pay back your investment twice over."

Steve frowned, not liking the sound of that. The mere suggestion of dealing with the government made him wary, and he could hear his maternal uncles scoff in his head at the evidence coming to light that Richard would have tied himself up in anything so official. Seline had taught Steve better.

"Well, Mr... Drab?"

The man's face pinched, "Drabbé, please."

"Noted," Steve smiled politely, "Well, you see, there's almost no record at all of your business partnering with mine. My father had many faults, and keeping records was one of them," it was funny to watch Mr Drab's face blanch at the casually insulting way he described Richard. "You see, I don't even know what it is you're developing. You can't expect me to put my money into a product on pure faith, can you? Do you think I'm stupid?"

Steve couldn't help the real bitterness that crept into his voice, even as he kept his smile pasted on. If there was one thing Richard Harrington had loved to throw at Steve all day, every day they saw each other, it was 'stupid'. Sure, Steve couldn't do math in his head or read for very long without getting a headache, and he hadn't gotten accepted to any colleges when he applied his senior year of high school, but he knew how to read people. Drab was panicking, both about the accusation Steve levied at him of an insult, but also it seemed at the fact Steve was questioning what this 'Project MKUltra' even was. Steve definitely had the feeling he'd found the other shoe with this.

"Of course not, Mr Harrington, my deepest apologies!" he rushed to say, wringing his hands. "You must understand, it was so unexpected to hear of your father's death. We've been developing this project in completely privacy for so long, the secrecy has gotten to be routine. Of course you would need to be aware of the project's specifics in order to be as committed a donor as Mr Harrington Sr was, of course."

"Of course," Steve tapped a finger on the upholstery of the chair he was sitting in while he contemplated whether he should look into this or drop the entire thing like a hot coal. However, in his experience the latter might get some angry people at his door about the loss of money with no cause, so at the very least he could see what had his father so enamoured. "I trust you'll arrange for me to see what my father invested in before I make my decision then? I'd like to get the whole picture."

Drab paled a couple shades, but he managed to squeak out a promise to call the next week with a verdict, so Steve considered it settled. He walked out of that meeting with a sour taste in his mouth and a mental note to have a copy of his updated will sent to Amanda before he agreed to go anywhere with these people.

*

The fact the project was being developed in Hawkins Indiana was like being slapped in the face, and Steve couldn't help but stare out the window at the foreign-familiar surroundings as his driver made their way through the town. It was eerie, all the parts he remembered overlaid in his mind on top of the wreckage from the earthquake several months ago that had yet to be fully cleaned up. There was the elementary school, same as he'd last seen all those years ago but now with a great crack straight through the parking lot. There was the movie theatre, half the sign pulled off to the side of the building and the doors blocked up, the letters of the new releases from March still hanging from the boards.

At least he knew why his father had kept the house all these years with no one living there. Steve couldn't remember if Hawkins even had a motel within city limits.

The documents beside Steve on the seat were illuminating, and put him in a far more important position than Mr Drab had made it seem in the privacy of his father's office. In actuality, along with being the primary donor for the entire project, Richard Harrington had simply owned most of it as well, from the buildings it was hosted in to the shipping company it used for its materials to the various services which stocked it with food and laundry and office supplies at regular intervals throughout the month. Steve essentially owned this project, whatever it may be, and his father may have been a bastard, but in this case he was a smart one. Each contract was air tight in a way Steve could plainly see even on a cursory read, and they risked heavy fines and black listing if they tried to move away from those services without a completed sign off from the CEO, which officially made this Steve's problem.

Steve's driver followed along behind their escort, a nondescript black car that looked even more out of place for trying so hard not to stand out, and he gripped his hands into fists as they rolled out of the downtown and into an industrial area he wasn't familiar with. The large office building they pulled up to run by 'the Department of Energy' was one he'd only ever seen from afar as a child, and coming here now did not exactly leave him feeling welcomed back. In fact, it felt more like he was being watched.

"Mr Harrington, its a pleasure to meet you," in the lobby he was greeted by a slick looking older man, who's hand he shook when offered. "I'm sorry if we appear a little scattered today, there's still some... after effects from the earthquake we're dealing with. Nothing to worry about for yourself, however."

"...and you are?" Steve found himself perturbed by some aspect of the man's behaviour, though he couldn't pinpoint what, so he defaulted to his usual -bluntness often put people off enough to drop whatever fake act they were doing.

"Dr Brenner, we spoke on the phone," he said, face strained a little. That was good, it would be better in the long run if these people thought he was just some vapid rich kid they had to win over or convince to sign of on them breaking contract. Steve didn't like the way the secretaries were watching them from the front desk like they were nervous. "I'm afraid due to those after effects I mentioned, we're a bit behind -the practical demonstrations will mostly have to wait until tomorrow or the next. But we can go to my office and discuss, and maybe you can see a small part of what we're building here before you retire."

No, Steve did not like this man. But he agreed to the new timeline and followed him into the elevator, unsurprised when one of the doormen came in behind them in.

Brenner's office was several stories underground, which told Steve exactly which kind of shady business his father had been dabbling in behind his back. Grandfather would be rolling in his grave, he thought derisively, as they exited the elevator and walked through dimly lit hallways, past various unmarked doors, until they reached one at the end of a hall that was wood instead of steel. Evidently even Brenner liked his comforts in the midst of what was looking to be a project desperate for money.

Brenner opened up the conversation bluntly -he explained as he passed Steve a printed copy of the NDA he'd signed a few days ago that 'MKUltra' was an experimental study, dedicated to producing abilities in its subjects that would be on the frontlines of the next war. It took remembering every smack across the face from his mother for Steve to keep a neutral expression as Brenner produced several folders from his desk and slid them over so Steve could flip through.

The first was objectively horrifying, and if he was a weaker man Steve may have allowed the churning in his gut at some of the pictures to outwardly show. Eighteen children, ranging from eight to seventeen, apparently, had been part of the first trials in the 60s, and all but one had died during some manner of redacted incident in 79. Brenner spoke like a proud, yet grieved parent about the wasted potential of the group and how it was after that tragedy that Steve's father had really helped the lab financially recover from the loss.

"We've been able to rebuild the last few years," Brenner tapped the next folder. "There have been a few... strange incidents in the area, leaving a number of individuals too changed to return to regular life. We're helping to rehabilitate and harness their unique gifts so they can be productive members of society one day."

"And to fight wars," Steve said.

"Yes, we can't let the Soviets get anything over on us," Brenner nodded, tapping the folder again. "Go on, I think you'll find our latest tests quite interesting! Your father certainly-"

"Please don't compare me to my father," Steve said, trying not to snap. The other man apologized, and Steve took a slow breath through his nose before he did as he'd asked and looked.

Five individuals this time, each with a small description helpfully placed next to their designated number -Steve needed to take another breath when he registered the fact that he was sitting in a place that seemed perfectly content to label children with numbers rather than names.

'011' was the last survivor of the first group, who was apparently psychic, telekinetic and could 'manipulate portals', whatever that meant, although it took a toll on her body. '019' had been taken in three years ago, and had limited empathic abilities as well as prophetic dreams, but the more of those he triggered, the less he was able to move on his own. '020' and '021' were brought in at the same time last summer, and they were mentally linked together but unfortunately the most unstable of the five, with lingering feral tendencies from being controlled by something, again, redacted. Then '022' had come here less than six months ago, ostensibly for medical treatment for rather extensive injuries, but then it was found out she too had developed 'portal manipulation' as well as rudimentary clairvoyance such as being able to detect lies.

He could not do anything drastic, he told himself as he glanced up to see Brenner waiting for him to say something, a smirk on his face like he was used to people telling him how impressive it all was, rather than what Steve wanted to do, which was far less polite. No, he had to actually think this through rather than rush in like a fool, no matter what his instincts were.

"Yes, impressive. Fantastical, even," Steve said with just the amount of doubt he wanted peeking through, which brought Brenner up short. "I'm sorry, but telekinesis? Linked minds?"

"You'll see them in working order in a day or two, Mr Harrington," Brenner looked decidedly unhappy at being undermined. "As well as my dear Eleven today, as her telekinesis is the most easy to observe. The work we are doing here is legitimate and will benefit the United States for generations to come!"

"I see. Tell me about your plans for the future for both if I choose to continue my support or cease it," Steve placed the folder back on the table, eyes lingering on the photo of 'Eleven' next to the description of her abilities. Her hair was dark and growing in curly around her ears, and she stared at the camera with a blank expression that made Steve think of mug shots and old pictures of people in sanitariums from history books. As Brenner went into detail on both proposed budgets, Steve still felt sick.

It was odd that he was being brought in to view these secret experiments so quickly after his father's death, with only an NDA as a visible buffer to prevent him from going out and reporting the whole operation to the police. But Steve, as said previously, wasn't stupid -he was simply his mother's son and more suited to the line of work his Rinaldi cousins were in the thick of. This wasn't so different from his lessons when he visited grandfather in Marseille after he turned eighteen, nor of some of the business he'd had to deal with the last few weeks while taking over for his father properly.

If Brenner had been conducting these experiments since the 60s, but only needed private funding after this unknown incident in 79, he likely once had governmental ties that were cut upon such a catastrophic event that lost them seventeen children. The man was likely completely rogue now, made more plausible by the fact his 'Energy Department' building wasn't owned or run by any government agency, and all the contracted employees commuted from the next town over. Not that there were enough employees to fill the building -Steve's father had owned the company that ran out of the first floor, and the floors above were sealed against entry.

If Brenner was this eager to have Steve here and secure either funding or a complete cut off, they must have been in dire need. The conditions in these underground hallways were enough that Steve would say so. But he must have a reason for being confident Steve wouldn't talk after he left the premises -was it that he was delusional and thought Steve was a carbon copy of his father? Did he buy into the disinterested rich boy act he played up?

Or, as they exited the office over an hour later and that same doorman from before fell into step behind them silently, did Brenner simply trust that he had employees ready and willing to threaten Steve into compliance should he seem like he was going to break the NDA? His father hadn't given this place enough extra cash to manage bribes even to small town police, but the security company they outsourced to was no joke. But he was positive the name of the head of the security team was a man who'd worked with one of his uncles in the past, so maybe he would have luck appealing to him -he could spin it to Brenner as conducting a random review of personnel, well within his right as the owner of the building and technically the CEO of the company upstairs. He'd think it over tonight.

The room Brenner led him to was painted with rainbows and looked big enough to hold far more than the five teenagers and young adults they claimed to host. For now there were only two other people inside -a tall security guard near the door wearing a bullet proof vest of all things, and the very girl from the folder Steve had reviewed in the office. She looked even worse than in the photo; pale and thin, her hair had been shown nearly to the quick recently, and she looked up at Brenner and Steve with a carefully blank face, but he saw the way her entire body tensed and leaned away from them. Brenner touched her shoulder without pause and she stilled instantly, and Steve felt his anger grow stronger, simmering under his bored facade. There was some strange metal contraption around her neck with wires and an honest to god lock pad.

He met Eleven's eyes and although he was doubtful, he knew what her file description said and tried to project calm and concern in her direction, though she gave no indication if she picked up on it or not.

Brenner clapped his hands together once, making both Steve and Eleven flinch, "My dear Eleven, this is Mr Harrington, our benefactor," Steve frowned, but bit his tongue against the presumption, instead intently watching how the girl responded to Brenner's words and being in her space. She was incredibly still and did not move save for her eyes briefly flitting from Steve to Brenner to the guard, then back to Steve. "I'd like it if you would show him your abilities, it's very important that he see you perform well since you have the easiest time of all your siblings."

The hand on Eleven's shoulder gripped tight and Steve felt his face go hot with fury; Eleven's eyes suddenly snapped up to meet his again, and this time it was much harder to reign that emotion in so to send her only concern and calm. By the furrow to her brow, he maybe wasn't succeeding.

Steve glanced at Brenner, then moved down to kneel in front of Eleven, ignoring the way the guard shifted by the door. He picked up a small toy from the table, just a wooden train, and held it out until Eleven reached up to take it -he had to strike the right balance here.

"Why don't you make this float, yeah?" he said quietly, level, while in his mind he thought hard on one question -'Do you want to leave this place?' Eleven's gaze bored into his like she really could read his mind or something, and she held the train in the palm of her hand for a quiet minute, concentrating.

Her nose started bleeding the moment the train floated back over to Steve's waiting hands. As he took it from the air, he shivered as an unfamiliar voice rang through his brain, clear as a bell.

'Not without the others.'

Steve nodded and stood, hoping he didn't look as shaken as he felt while he turned away from the girl like he was already dismissing her entirely. "Amazing," he said, and tried to think about how his father would've reacted. "If this can be done to others, there's no question of our getting a leg up on the USSR."

Eleven ducked her head.

"More than a leg up, I'd say. Just wait until you see Twenty!" Brenner seemed much more confident now that Steve had seen a little proof of his outlandish claims, and he reached down to pat at Eleven's shoulder again. Steve allowed himself to look, watching as Eleven wiped the blood from her nose and shuffled away from where Brenner was standing, hands resting unobtrusively on her lap.

As he let Brenner lead him out of the room and over to the elevator, her voice followed him like a shadow in the back of his mind, the way the steadiness in her eyes had cracked for a split second when she realized he'd heard her response.

Whatever was going on here, Steve was going to do something about it.

*

The town was strange, on edge. He directed his escort to bring him to the department store and then the grocers, picking up fresh bedding and towels, toiletries and enough food for a week's stay -each place he went to, that feeling of being watched continued. When he allowed himself an extra minute in the pharmacy aisle to look over the pain meds they had to offer, he heard whispering close by and when he chanced a look, the women turned away fast and hurried along. Checking out, the cashier stared straight at him and pointedly ignored the escort who had come in behind him save for a poisonous glare when she first noticed; she did a small double take when he handed her his ID for the medication he was buying.

"Harrington? Like the steel company?" she handed it back and started ringing through the rest of his items.

"Right. My family lived here a few years back," he tried to give her a charming smile, but he was acutely aware of the man three steps behind him. "I was pretty young, so I don't remember much."

She looked very tired, but laughed a little. "A bad time to come back, then. Be careful driving, most of the side streets are still riddled with cracks."

"I'll be sure to, thanks," he handed her the bills and asked she keep the change, and walked out, deeply annoyed with the escort now that it was clear his presence was off-putting to people in the community.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cashier through the front window put a sign on her register and hurry away to the back.

The drive to the old Harrington house was quiet, but mostly familiar. The earthquake hadn't hit the west side of the town as badly as the rest, apparently, so the driver didn't have to detour nearly as far as on the way in from the airport. Steve's former neighborhood was largely unchanged -new gardens, new cars, new paint on the houses, but the shape of it was the same, the families and children and wide stretches of green between each lot. The first time he'd tried to invite Tommy H over after school the other boy had given up halfway there, not used to riding such long distances on his bike.

The house looked exactly the same as the day he left, maybe a little duller from time, the garden not as lush as he used to see it, but very little had been updated in the last ten years. He half expected to hear his father's booming voice chastising him for being late when he made it up to the front door.

"You're free to go," he dismissed once the driver had deposited some of his bags in the front foyer, Steve setting the groceries further into the hall. The house was oddly warm for this time of the fall. "Brenner has my number. He can call when he's decided if the practical demonstrations will be held tomorrow or the next."

The driver shifted uncomfortably. "Dr Brenner has asked that we be allowed to accompany you until then, Mr Harrington."

Steve's eyebrows rose, incredulous. "I'm sorry, but regardless of business secrecy I won't be having strangers in my home."

"Mr Harrington, we really should be close, there have been a number of criminals taking advantage of the earthquakes-"

"Thanks, for your concern," Steve didn't often like being rude to people who were obviously low down the job hierarchy, just doing what they were told, but this entire day had left him with a sour taste in his mouth and a mounting anger he was itching to let loose. "But do I look incapable of handling myself to you? Do I look like I need a babysitter to watch out for whatever poor people have been so left in the lurch by these earthquakes they've probably already been here and gone months ago?" he gestured to his body, the one aspect of himself his father hadn't ever deemed worthy of comment, so long as he retained his captaincy of his school's basketball and swimming teams. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, and if I see either car lingering on the street I'll call the police. Respectfully."

His escort bobbed his head, and Steve did feel bad at the speed he left the house but was more grateful to be left alone so he could figure out what the hell he was going to do about this entire, awful situation. He left his suitcase and sundries in the hall and picked up the bags with perishables, making his way to where he remembered the kitchen was as fatigue creeped up on him fast.

He didn't like acting the way his parents taught him to. There were advantages, sure, he often got his way when he most needed it or cut down on the runaround someone else might have been given in the same situation, but it was tiring and made him feel like shit. His father had wanted a perfect heir to his businesses, his mother had seen he'd never be one and given him her own family's skills since they suited him, but if he could put that behind him and simply be a man he could be proud of in his own way, then it was all worth it. They wouldn't have won in the end.

Steve put the bags on the kitchen island, moved towards the fridge to get the milk and such stored away, but something made him pause mid-step. The house was warm in late September, the bolt of the door to the backyard was unlocked, there was a candy bar wrapper sitting on the counter next to the coffee machine. A person had been in here, and recently, and Steve braced instinctively when he heard a soft step come from the entryway he'd just walked through.

He didn't have time to grab anything to shield himself, but he did turn around quick enough to catch a flash of dark hair and the glint of a hunting knife before the stranger barreled into him. He went with the momentum and gasped as he was slammed into the fridge, one hand pinning his shoulder while the other pressed the knife at the base of his neck. The man in front of him was probably around Steve's age, with long dark hair and darker clothes, and a horrible scar that spanned down from his cheek to beneath the collar of his shirt. Steve took a long, deliberate breath and allowed himself to be pressed into the cold steel, leaving his arms loose and palms open at his sides.

"Steeeve Harrington, expecting dear old dad to join you anytime soon?" the man asked, sneering down at him. Despite the front, Steve could feel the way the hand at his shoulder was shaking slightly, and he wondered if it was adrenaline or related to an injury.

"Afraid not. Got to bury him last month," that seemed to throw the stranger off; he hissed air in through his teeth in surprise and the knife shifted down a little further, until it was half laid flat on Steve's collarbone. "And who are you? Did my father owe you money or something?"

The stranger made a noise in his chest almost like a growl even as he bared his teeth and grinned, wide and menacing in Steve's face. And then -there was no other way to describe it -the man's irises sharpened into slits and flashed red in the early evening darkness, and the sheer surprise at seeing such a thing did well to keep Steve frozen in place under his hands and piercing gaze.

"Yeah, you could say that bastard owes me something," he pressed down and then drew away all at once -embarrassingly, Steve didn't expect the loss of support and dropped to the floor in a heap, coughing and holding a hand to his neck. "I'm Eddie Munson, formerly patient number Twenty Three," Steve whipped his head up and gaped; Eddie snorted bitterly at whatever else he saw there, and sheathed his knife in the holder at his hip. "We saw you waltz in and out of Hawkins Lab today, fucking escort service and everything. What do you say we have a little chat about all that?"

Steve coughed one last time and pushed himself up, watching Eddie watch him right back. In the hall he'd just come from there was more movement, and it became clear that whatever he'd walked into was not simply one man determined to confront him about his father's involvement in all this. There were more people in this town that knew about what the lab was doing, evidently.

"I'll talk to you," Steve promised. 'Not without the others' flashed through his mind again and he closed his eyes briefly. "I want to know what the hell's going on."

[kytri]

Since AO3 seems to be back up and I guess that commenting event is going on here's a post of FFXIV fics I'm writing/have written. Everything is either Stephanivien/Artoirel or WoL/Haurchefant

Prelude https://archiveofourown.org/works/33705373 WoL/Haurchefant, complete 2900 words A little backstory/pre canon thing about my WoL, at the time I thought it would be the only thing I wrote about him. Sad but not for the reason you might think.

Like a Clear Night Sky https://archiveofourown.org/works/39709836 WoL/Haurchefant, complete 900 words Sort of a Haurche POV companion to the previous one. Should be fine to read alone but I think they work best as a pair. The Long Way Around https://archiveofourown.org/works/38033020 WoL/Haurchefant, on hiatus 48k words so far The Big WoLship fic, featuring a time loop and a rough MSQ follow along. "Confusing" "Boring" I hope to come back to it if I can convince myself it's not too shit to bother with.

Machina https://archiveofourown.org/works/41183763 Stephanivien/Artoirel, ongoing 42k words so far Propaganda to get people interested in this ship. I also spend a lot of time focusing on Artoirel's relationships with his family. It's set in my WoL's personal timeline and he features in it a bit but you don't need to read the fics about him to follow this one.

Rarepair Week https://archiveofourown.org/works/47847226 Stephanivien/Artoirel, complete 7k words total, chapters vary from about 500 to 1500 words Seven little themed vignettes about these two. Sort of in the Machina timeline but fine to read separately.

Bonus??? I have unpublished WiPs for an Aymeric/Artoirel oneshot about being sad and then fucking your friend and the very start of a Chlodebaimt/Foulques crackship but take it serious fic mostly about PTSD so far. So? Look forward to that I guess?

[narhinafan]

Reading nh fanfics are so cringe with that had ss as side ship. It's way too cringe as tgey make skr a girl boss and sasuke a lover boy for suckura. They even write as naruto can't live with his team 7 friends in post war au or modern au when in canon he never contact skr for even talk, it's like he don't give a shit about her once he got together with hinata and understand the reailty of harraser and a selfish person. He was in contact with sai and ino as it was cleared in boruto manga and even kishi's oneshot nh date.

Reading fics with skr as a total new cringy character and rubbish ss always made me skip their part or if there is more involvement of ss or skr, I immediately left the fics. It's way too cringe and disgusting reading and witnessing sss, bsa, ns, ss shit or sakura centerd plot in nh fics.🤮💀

A lot of those fics were pre new gen though when people still had hope Sakura would get better.

Yeah Naruto has always kept contact with others, but with Sakura it was always only when they happened to meet up or doing missions they never really hung out unless it was team 7 as a whole.

Yeah I tend to skip past SasuSaku parts now in fics, Some Sakura centered plots in NaruHina fics can be good though when it shows her like her canon self and she gets called out for how she acts.