#again no picture because nasty dumped it immediately

[thingsifindonthegroundsometimes]

it happened again this is so evil

[buriedpair]

Hi hi hi!!:3 I was ponderingg on if any of your ocs could be platonic yanderes and what that would be like?^_^

LOVE a platonic yandere

Platonic yandere!OCs x GN Reader

Amias

Being Amias' best friend is no easy task. It's been years since you've been on a date. Plus, he's constantly dragging you along to go waste his money (and then earn it back).

He's not romantically attracted to you, he's made that clear. However, he's also not interested in you dating anyone. Ever. He says it's because "Nobody deserves you, and dating sucks."

You guess he's right, but you haven't been on a date since high school! This seems a bit excessive.

It's weird how when you start going on dates again, they randomly ghost you. Amias was right, dating DOES suck.

Maybe you should just focus that time and energy on your favorite gambling weirdo.

Edge

Edge isn't really one for friendship, but his cousin is an exception. You're constantly wandering into the Casino to bug him while he's trying to work. It's irksome, but he appreciates that you try to get him to take breaks from time-to-time.

He does not appreciate people gawking at you, though. He's quick to escort you off whenever there's someone openly flirting with you. He knows it isn't your fault, but it sure is annoying.

Oops, suddenly those people are completely broke and haven't won a single game that night. How did that happen? Whatever.

Edge simply pats your head and sighs. You're so simple-minded, that's why he has to keep those people away from you!

You're all that's right in this wrong world. Don't take his only friend away from him.

Double Down

DD doesn't have any family. He was an awkward kid in middle school that nobody wanted to be around. You, however, happily announced that you are his sibling and won't ever abandon him. You're his family!

Of course, he treated you as such for the majority of his formative years. Even through the nastiness of puberty and high school, you stayed with him. He owes you a lot.

He's never flirted with you, he didn't develop that habit until long after you both declared each other family. He never felt the desire to, anyways.

You made a blood oath in your early years that you wouldn't leave. The contract is still hanging on his wall.

If anyone ever tried to date you, they're out of the picture immediately. He'd sob into his blood-coated hands and beg you not to leave.

What choice do you have? You're his family.

Jackpot and Gambit

When Jackpot was 15, he was taken in by Gambit's family. He's seen the horrors of the world, but he's also seen the joys.

Gambit hasn't seen much. He knows the world is scary because his parents told him, but he doesn't learn until much, much later.

Naturally, Jackpot and Gambit have an instinct to defend.

They met you in senior year of high school. You were shy and didn't want to interact with anyone. You had one friend, and they were a shitty friend to say the least.

When Jackpot watched them dump milk on your head, he punched them in the nose, put his jacket over your head and took you away to go find Gambit.

You were crying, and didn't say a word to either of them the entire time.

From that moment, they were the ones to hang out with you instead. Even if you didn't want them to, they'd still keep you sandwiched between them at all times.

When the casino was finally created, you were kept far, far away from it. Gamblers are dangerous people, you know. They can't have their best friend getting hurt.

Hell, just stay in their house. It's safer there. Nobody can hurt you where they can see you.

[12boogaloo]

Okay, I cant take it anymore. The brain rot is REAL

Been on a writing hiatus since 2019 or 2020 (I honestly don’t remember so don’t @ me)

And what gets me to finally start writing again?

You guessed it ladies, gents, and serpents!

Fucking TROLLS 3

Let’s get this bread or die trying y’all 😈

~•~

So first things first: I didn’t come up with the AU’s I’m using here! They were created by TheMiraculousMat and Keebsification on here and AO3

The AU’s in question are The Eldest and The Youngest and Out The Train Wreck

I just love it when people see John Dory and think “hmmm yes this grown man can fit so much eldest daughter energy in him” cuz SAME

So I thought: what if I just… put em together? OTT! JD and E&Y! JD have a grip on my soul and I’m filling a formal complaint in the form of fanfiction for not just 1, but 2 other pieces of fanfiction!!! Cuz why not

I’m gonna post the notes I’ve had about this idea for the past 2 week, at least the first part.

Well… it’s half notes, half chapter really…

Maybe. MAYBE. I’ll clean it up and post it on AO3. Maybe… probably lets be real

Anyway. Y’all can call me Boog and this is Project: Hyperfixation Won

Actual story name pending…

~•~

Part 1: Author’s Actual Notes because they are a nerd

Got an idea

Gonna scratch the itch

Half brain rot dump and half story here

Combination of the Eldest and Youngest JD and the Train Wreck JD

I also head canon that trolls have tails and claws and fangs

They’re lil creatures

Basically the same stuff happens in TW with the manager and John being Branch’s father.

Branch grows up knowing JD is his dad while everyone else thinks they’re brothers.

He and Luka are dating. He’s basically Branch’s other dad.

Luka gets taken and John thinks he died. He keeps his glove to remember him.

The fight still happens. John still leaves but promises Branch that he’ll come back.

He goes to the Neverglades for the next four years.

When he gets a letter about Rosiepuff and Branch he immediately heads back to the tree to take care of him.

Pretty much all of E&Y happens but with the change of Branch knowing JD is his dad.

Makes the trauma of him leaving worse in a way which adds to the angst of the first parts delicious, but it also makes their bond really solid later on.

John forgot that everyone in the village knew them as brothers until Poppy asks him if John is Branch’s daddy out of the blue. He panics and says “no” on instinct and they both decide to just go with it. Easier than explaining it to everyone.

She still doesn’t know. Nobody does.

John still loses his arm trying to save Creek(nasty ass).

One morbid silver lining John felt was that at least it wasn’t the hand he wore Luka’s glove on. Small miracles. Lol I’m sorry

Branch doesn’t remember Luka anymore, at least not really. He sorta remembers a burgundy haired troll that he thought was important but couldn’t remember anything else about them so he didn’t think too much about it.

John doesn’t really like talking about him and Branch hasn’t ever asked so he doesn’t bring it up.

He starts dating Hickory and he does tell him about Luka. He admits that while he definitely is falling for Hickory, a part of him will always belong to Luka and their relationship will always be really important to him.

Hickory is more than okay with that and even tells him that he would’ve loved to have met the man that made his sweetheart so happy and kept him safe before it was his turn. (John just about cried when he said that same buddy and agreed that they’d probably get along pretty well.)(He shows Hickory pictures of him and Luka one day and they laugh over the fact that John clearly has a type.)(And, based on Hickory’s own light blush, same.)(He immediately said Luka was ‘real cute’ and John still laughs at him for it.)

He also tells him about Bold and how Branch came to be. (Hickory spent solid hours comforting him afterwards and spent an equal amount of time thinking of ways he could get Dickory to help him torture the bastard if he ever saw him.)(He decides in that moment that he’d do anything to protect his boyfriend and his son. Anything.) (He’s also even more grateful to Luka when he hears about how he protected his love the day they met. He really wishes he could thank him…)

Branch makes jokes about not calling Hickory his stepdad till they get married, which makes John flush bright blue. (Hickory just laughs and winks, the traitor.)(Hickory secretly really wants Branch to call him ‘Pops’ and he’s so obvious about it.)(Branch finds it hilarious and doesn’t on purpose. He’d actually love to call him that, he’s just being an ass.)(You’d think he wouldn’t ever want to but no. For some reason, it’s only thinking of Hickory as ‘Papa’ specifically that makes him feel wrong. Like that’s not available to him. I wonder why.)

After saving Floyd, the boys all start spending more time together as a family. Floyd and Clay move into the bunker with John and Branch. Bruce still lives on Vacay Island but he tries to visit at least once a week, even bringing his wife and kids with him if he can.

They still love doing shows together and will do a big one every two weeks at least.

A few months later, they’re getting ready to hangout together after a performance in PopVillage. Hickory isn’t with them, he was actually watching with Tiny in the crowd, so he can’t see them.(Lil dude is really attached to his “Uncle Cowboy” and “Uncle Johnny” it’s adorable.)(And yes Guy is close by, Tiny is still very very grounded.)

Poppy wants to introduce them to a former stage manager that she’s worked with before that had come to see the show from TrollCity. Branch has met him once before and thought the guy was weird and a little creepy but nothing else made him feel suspicious so he kinda just ignored it. He figured if Poppy trusted him, it was fine. (Obviously he still kept an eye on the old bastard, cause your boy isn’t paranoid for nothing. And you never know.)

They all agree to meet and when they get backstage… it’s him.

Bold.

The bros old manager. The man who hurt their eldest unimaginably.

JD basically shuts down as his younger brothers immediately shield him from view.

They need to get out of here without causing a scene. Fast.

“Poppy, I think we need to go…” Floyd mumbles, his usually soft features twisting in both anger and slight fear as he stared the old troll down.

Poppy looks at them in confusion, “Wha- but you guys said you wanted to see everything we set up!!” She looks between the brothers and the older manager, Branch joining her as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry, kids, I don’t think we can do that…” Bruce doesn’t take his eyes off of the old man as he steps back, closer to Clay and Floyd who were holding John Dory’s arms and hands to keep him steady in their safety bubble, their tails wrapped around his waist. “Not when he’s here.”

Poppy blinks in confusion. “What do you mean? Have you met Mr. Bold before?” She asks.

The old bastard chuckles. “Don’t worry, Miss Poppy.” Poppy huffs a bit at being called ‘miss’. (She’s Queen, dammit. Only Hickory calls her ‘miss’ and it’s always as a joke.) “I was the boys’ manager back in the day! It’s just been a while since we’ve seen each other.” He looks over each brother, clearly trying to get a look at John Dory and noticeably souring when he’s blocked. Then he smirks, taking a few steps closer, his wooden cane thunking against the floor. John flinches with each tap, tap, tap. “You’ve all grown up so much.”

Bruce holds his ground, crossing his arms and rolling his shoulders, his bigger body blocking most of JD from view. Clay was growling behind him, both him and Floyd curling closer to John and their ears pressed back in irritation. Bruce gives a humorless chuckle. “Heh. Yeah, we’ve grown up, Bold. We grew up and you’re fucking old now.”

Poppy gasps. “B-Bruce, that’s not nice!” She turns to Bold and smiles nervously. “I’m so sorry-“

The man waves her off. “Don’t fret. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s right after all.” He looks at them again all smugly, leaning on his cane. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

Floyd scoffs. “Not long enough.” He growls, baring his teeth. His claws start coming out and he’s thankful he’s holding John’s prosthetic arm as he feels them scratch the metal.

“Woah, okay, what the hell is up with you guys?” Branch finally steps in. That was so unlike Floyd to say something like that. He’s never seen the older troll that angry before, he’s never seen any of his uncles that angry before.

Bruce huffs. “What’s up is that we’re leaving. Now.” He goes to turn around to start steering his brothers out of the room when he hears Bold chuckle, making them all freeze.

“You all really have changed so much,” He says, his tail swaying side-to-side behind him. John looks up and they manage to lock eyes, Bold smiling sickly as John stares in horror. “Especially you, Johnny Baby.”

John feels sick. He feels like he’s gonna pass out. He feels his legs start giving out as Clay and Floyd rush to hold him up. He feels his body going completely limp and his vision blurs and his chest hurts and he can’t breATHE-

Bruce tackles the old troll, immediately landing brutal hits to the bastards face. He screams between punches, “DON’T TALK TO MY BROTHER!” Bold tries to hit him back, only managing to smack Bruce in the side once with his cane before continuing to get pummeled.

Branch and Poppy jump in frantically to pull him off of the man and the three of them stumble back. Bruce shoves them off and glares at Bold again. He was lying on the ground, groaning and clutching his nose, there were scratches and bruises on his face and he was covered in his own glittery copper blood. “Stay. The FUCK. Away. From John.” Bruce pants and shakes out his hands, flexing his exposed claws. He spits on the ground. “Bastard.” He turns back to his brothers. “Cmon, let’s get out of here.” He lifts JD up bridal style and Clay and Floyd follow him as he starts rushing to the door.

“Wait, hold on!” Branch runs after them, leaving Poppy standing in confused horror at what just happened.

~•~

That’s what I’ll give for now lol

I have like wayyy more written out but I’m mean so 😈

Anyway

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Lmk what y’all think ig

Check out the folks that created these AU’s plz @matmiraculous and Keebsification (idk their tumblr so plz don’t yell at me) both on AO3 where I found them

Later yall

[duhhhhimstypidyall-blog]

Spiraling (Vent/Brain Dump)

TW: mental breakdown, spiraling, ranting, ect.

 !PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT IN A GOOD HEADSPACE!

The concept of time is really fucked when you are experiencing severe dissociation episodes. My entire life I’ve lacked a general awarness of time and don’t seem to have a reliable internal clock like some others. Everything I experience seems to be in polar extremes. Time either moves so painfully slow that it seems like a day will never end or so fast that it seems like I blink and a week has passed. It is even more complicated when it seems to have both characteristics simultaneously even though from a logical stand point it should not be possible. I’m assuming that is why it is so hard for me to comprehend. When I was a kid, all the super exciting things in life always sped by while undesireable experiences seemed to slow everything down. Now it has nothing to do with the surrounding circumstances. Each day I live makes less and less sense to me. The funny thing is every once and a while I will go a few weeks or maybe even a month without giving this whole ordeal a single thought, but it always creeps back in and its been getting alarmingly worse upon each return. Throw sleep deprivation, an eating disorder, and isolation into the mix and I am left with an ugly cocktail of a spiraling psychotic breakdown. One thing people always have to say to someone in a rough mental health patch is that you will get through this and move past it. Although I am not necesarily disagreeing with this statement, it is not giving me any sort of hope, which I am assuming is supposed to be the outcome of the statement. It does not provide hope because even though I always somehow get out of these episodes, I never remember them once thier over. That also means being in it right now, I don’t have a known way of getting out of it because I don’t remember what I did last time to get out. I am not sure that made much sense but thats besides the point. It is so strange to be in this state. I am here enough to know that I am not here which is ironic because again, that contradicts itself. I would compare it as sort of going on autopilot, I am reluctantly getting out of my desk chair and going to work but I could not tell you any of the conversations that I had or even what events from the shifts were on which particular day of the week. I am just all around delirous and checked the fuck out. I am starting to get frustrated again with feeling stuck in a loop with no progress being made and it feels pointless. I know I have so much more to say but I keep zoning out and staring at what I know are my fingers on the keyboard but they sure do not seem entirely connected to me right now. They just look slightly off, its that feeling you get when you see the pictures of those liminal spaces and factually there is nothing immediatly concerning about the photos but you get this gut feeling that there is something off behind the scenes. I must have punched my car again at some point recently because I have nasty bruises on my hand again. If I am being honest I haven’t slept in 2 days and I cannot remember the last time I ate. I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye that are most likely not even there and hearing shit I can assume is not real either. I just wish I did not have to go through this alone. I am a complete looser and a failure, I am in my early 20′s and have NO friends, I live by myself and am only close with my sister out of the family who is unfortunately 3 hours away from me. We are in contact daily over the phone and on social media due to our shared interests but it is not the same as having someone physically in your presence to bring you back down to earth a little bit. I really need a fucking hug, I am so touch starved that if someone were to genuinely embrace me I just know I would immediately burst into tears and hyperventilate through my violent sobbing. I know I am supposed to deserve to be loved and have friends but its hard to believe that when I have nothing to prove otherwise. If I deserved friendship and love wouldn’t I have it? Some of the nastiest and cruel people in the world are allowed those luxuries so why the fuck am I the one that gets it taken away from me. I don’t have anyone to tell my jokes too. I have nobody to play video games with. I have nobody to share my newest plot ideas with. I just want to share the human experience with at least one other person like the rest of the world gets to. It is not fair. I have not done anything in my life that would constitute a punishment as cruel as this. Recently I have been listening to the song Karma by AJR and I feel like it really captures the way I feel about the whole thing. Especially the line, “the universe works in mysterious ways but I’m starting to think it ain’t working for me”. It confuses me because in an abstract way the human experience is following the rules laid out by the universe and in turn recieving either good or bad things based on your compliance. It just seems like I am being expected to follow an entirely different set of rules and rewards but I have no idea what they are and noone will tell me what they are. I come to the universe asking questions because it is just the way that things are supposed to be and thats just how it works, but for some reason I am met with notions of “well not for you though” with no further explainations. What am I doing this for? I do not belong in this timeline, I feel like I got misplaced on accident and that this is not the lifetime that I am supposed to be navigating but I am trapped here until the end of humanity.  

[daeva-agas]

Look, I love ossans, but even I would say this looks really shady and sleazy. Bwahahahahaha. I can’t even show you the other picture because it’s s3x. 

Okay I’m gonna share what the 2-chpater preview looks like. I thought I’ve read a lot of cheesy garbage romances, but I’m still mindblown by the WTF. I guess I’m really actually too vanilla because everything is such a disaster, the only thing keeping me reading is Old Man Love Interest. Otherwise I’d have yeeted by page 5. 

Tagging @stolenvampires and @ayakoiramblings 

Aira Werricks is the daughter of a marquisate family that has fallen on hard times. 10 years prior the kingdom experienced a major financial crisis, and not all the noble families came out unscathed. She doesn’t even own a personal carriage, and had to take the public coaches to travel. She couldn’t afford new dresses and had to constantly refurbish old dresses to reuse.

Aira’s brother Reuben has expressed interest to start a business to restore the family finances, so Aira is using the socialite balls to try to find a sponsor who would loan them a capital. Unfortunately, the Werricks family was well-known to be a huge spendthrift, and so people are wary about loaning them any money.

(This is not a rumour, they really ARE carefree spenders who doesn’t take finances seriously)

Aira has a lot of male friends from other noble families, and one of them, a boy named Hans, is actually somewhat interested in marrying her. She often hangs out with them unchaperoned (because she has none). This, plus her constantly trying to ask for loans, leads to her being rumoured to be sleeping around.

The male lead Bradford Grandville is a rich man who has a really nasty reputation of being a cruel loanshark. The nobles don’t like him because he bought his title, and he shamelessly flirts with married women in a vulgar way. He gets death threats by their husbands all the time, but he still keeps doing it anyway (because reasons that will probably be revealed in later chapters). Basically he looks and acts like a thug, though because Shameless Smut novel Aira does think he is hot in a roguish way. 

Aira overhears that even her friends are saying that her family’s reputation is going to make it difficult for anyone to be willing to loan them anything. As she was leaving, Bradford grabs her and was like “Help me pretend to be my date for a sec”. One of the ladies he had been flirting with is very possessive of him and was chasing him around with a knife. Aira says Nope because this situation is shady as hell, and she doesn’t want her reputation to take another hit.

But again, shameless smut, so he pulls her in a kiss. He did “nicely” use his coat to cover her face so nobody could see her face. After the lady with the knife is gone, he offers to give her a loan as a token of gratitude. But he also throws in some sleazy comments about her reputation for playing around with men. Aira is offended and refused the loan, and ran off.

Bradford goes “inTereStiNg”, though the text implies that he has trust issues about women. 

Every sleazy flirt male lead always needs a stiff and stoic valet, so we’re introduced to Hugo, his trusted attendant. There’s a pile of love letters from madams waiting for Bradford. He makes sleazy comments, but dumps them all.

Hugo super tiredly says “Brad-sama, you really need to settle down and stop this”. 

Bradford goes “Sure, I have someone in mind.” (Aira)

Hugo: “Please tell me she’s not someone else’s wife”

Brad: “Oh no, she’s a debutante.”

Hugo: “That’s 28 years younger than you, I don’t know if this is better or worse”

(For what it’s worth, Aira is 17 and Brad is 45)

At any rate, despite Aira’s refusal Brad approached Marquis Werricks and offered him the loan. The carefree marquis immediately jumped on it upon hearing “no collateral, no deadline”. They immediately start spending money like water and the business is completely forgotten, and only Aira is concerned that this loan sounds hecking shady as hell. No collateral and no deadline is waaayy too good to be true.

Aira’s dad reveals that the loaner is Bradford Grandville, and Aira is immediately even more suspicious. This is someone (supposedly) well known as being an evil loanshark, there’s no way there’s no strings attached. She hails a coach and goes to the Grandville manor. 

The coachman mentions that the townsfolk think that Grandville is a “hero”, but doesn’t elaborate. Aira is naturally like “press X for Super Doubt”. When they arrive, Hugo almost turns her away because she has no appointment, but she insist on waiting so Hugo shows her in. 

While bored waiting, she wanders around and stumbles across the office where Bradford is seeing his guests. Two people come out and mentions that they’re influential representatives of the Trade Union in the kingdoms. Grandville is heckling them over their investments, and apparently if they fail, they can get kicked out of the union. This makes Aira go ??????

As she snoops around further, she hears Bradford talking to one of his guests. This was a Minister of Finance from some kingdom, and Bradford is actually loansharking an entire kingdom. This is where I just go “I give up LOL”.

That also happens to be where the preview ends, and I’m debating whether or not to buy this because they haven’t even brought up the contract marriage at all and the table of contents says there’s only 5 chapters? Unless that’s just the preview table of contents and there’s actually more chapters in the book. 

I’m curious like WTF why is this dude so rich, what did he even do to be this rich??? Also is he secretly a philanthropist??? Why do the commoner citizens love him??? Like, it’s standard “scumbag with eyes for gold, but a heart of gold” trope like Obey Me Mammon but 1 million times sleazier, but like. Still. 

[uwuwriting]

Todoroki, Dabi, Shinsou and Hawks w/ a badass dancer s/o

Request: hello!! may i request hawks dabi n shinsou (shoto if ur feeling generous!!) hcs where their sweet adorable s/o suddenly turns into a badass charismatic dancer when fire ass music plays and shes out there vibin and feelin herself (no not in that way btw😳) - @highest-quality-of-trash​

I legit laugh so hard with theses dancing asks bc I can totally imagine them trying to put their jaw back in place after the witness you throw it back. Oml I love these types of crackhead asks. Hope you like it. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: slightly suggestive here and there

Todoroki Shouto

-You are so shy and he loves it. 

-Legit when you hide behind him and grasp his hand while you are going through a crowded area he just MELTS.

-HE A SIMP FOR YOUR ASS.

-When you sneeze and it’s one of those kitten sneezes he will give you the world.

-Your laugh is his favorite sound and he loves it even more when he is the reason behind your laughter. 

-He knows that he isn’t the most expressive person so he tends to make up for it with cuddles and cute dates. 

-You are his lockscreen. 

-It’s a picture of you cuddled up in his bed wearing his hoodie, fast asleep with the most adorable pout on your face. 

-Whenever he opens his phone he falls in love all over again. 

-You are his little cinnamon roll and he will protect you with his life. 

-So when ‘My Type’ starts playing while yall are hanging out with your class in the dorms he is shocked by how you freeze mid sentence. 

-You immediately lock eyes with Mina and hop off his lap in a flash and start dancing like crazy. 

-The choreography wasn’t perfect, Mina and Uraraka messed up a few and Jiro didn’t know half of the moves. 

-But you??

-You got the whole class shooketh.

-You didn’t miss a beat and got all the moves right.

-Todoroki was like 👀👀👀.

-Bc you kinda shaking your ass at some moves and boy is watching you like a hawk.

-When the lyrics say ‘that’s my type’ you always turn around and wink or look at him.

-Boy got butterflies in his stomach.

-When the song ends and you come to sit back down like nothing happened everyone is looking at you.

- “I learn them from tik tok...”

- “LAST I CHECKED TIK TOK COULDN’T DANCE THAT GOOD!!” 

-Mineta said that.

-Mineta became an ice cube after that comment.

-Todoroki will ask you to dance for him every so often and even decides to learn some dances so he can join you. 

-Wholesome in general but won’t hesitate to turn dirty if you give him the necessary signs. 

Dabi

-We know he’s nasty.

-How he manage to land someone so adorable and sweet as you is beyond the league’s comprehension. 

-They shouldn’t underestimate you because they have seen you in action and dear lord you are terrifying. 

-But alas you are a cinnamon roll around them and absolutely adorable. 

-Most of them had bet that Dabi would have corrupted you at this point and you would have lost your sweetness but they were proven wrong. 

-Even after all this time with him you are still the same cinnamon roll.

-They all love you.

-So when Dabi tells them that you are one hell of a dancer and that you like the most badass songs they laugh at him. 

-You?

-Dirty dancing?

-Twerking?

-Yeah right. 

-So the next time yall are chilling in his room he purposefully set his phone up in a corner and put on ‘Anaconda’

-A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. 

-He should enjoy this. 

-The moment you start bopping your head along side the beat he knows shit is going down. 

-Soon you are full on twerking and doing all kinds of moves that gets him going as well. 

-Once the song ends he wastes no time to throw you on the bed. 

-The video was too ....intense and the league didn’t need to see what happened after your little dancing session. 

-They heard it well enough they didn’t have to see it as well. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-He isn’t an open person and he would want someone who is soft spoken and sweet. 

-His body and soul crave affection and gentleness so it’s not like he would be looking for someone like that because he knows their his type. 

-It just feels right. 

-So when he found you the sweet girl in the hero course while he was training along side you he was smitten. 

-Soon he found the courage to ask you out and now you two are a thing that most of your friends believe will lead to something more. 

-Something that will last well after high school is over. 

-They just know by the way you two look at each other. 

-You are his sweetheart and his adorable little kitten. 

-He would do anything for you. 

-Just like Shouto he has you as his lockscreen. 

-Its a photo pf you on his lap wearing one of his hoodies and doing small ears with your hands.

-An adorable photo he took while gaming, 

-He remembers it so clearly. 

-He was so tired after practice but you were there to cheer him up. 

-You always were. 

-He believed you were so innocent and pure. 

-That is until the song ‘Numb’ came on and you went crazy. 

-You two were studying and you had put on some music from your phone when the song changed to that one. 

-In a flash you were on your feet dancing along with the music moving your body like a professional dancer. 

-He took out his phone once he got out of his trance and started recording you. 

-He made the video his secret wallpaper...*like that Timothe meme*

-Once the song is over he’s so fixated on your ass that you have to shake his shoulder to bring him back to reality. 

-Needless to say that studying is long forgotten and Shinsou has something else to DO at the moment.

Hawks/Keigo Takami

*he looks so dumb here smh*

-He loves your sweet and caring nature. 

-He’s craving for some nurturing and affection since he has never gotten any so having you by his side is a huge upgrade than his previous state. 

-He loves you to the moon and back.

-Has a folder full of photos of you.

-Selfies you had sent him, photos he had taken himself and some silly stuff you two had done. 

-He low-key expected you to be freaky in one way or another. 

-He just didn’t expect it to be dance. 

-It was date night and you had decided to cook dinner.

-You asked him to put on some music and you went back to checking on your meal. 

-Then it happened. 

-It was a classic and an old song at that but you knew the calling of dance when you heard it. 

-’Beautiful Liar’ was a marvelous song and the music video made things even better. 

-Keigo expected you to know the song and sway your hips to the rythem.

-But when you copied Shakira’s every move flawlessly he let his jaw drop to the floor. 

-Drool was starting to drip down his chin as he watched your hips move up and down or how you leaned on the fridge to do that arch-your-back-off-the-wall move. 

-Boy was mesmerized beyond belief. 

-Then the instrumental part came on and you danced to it flawlessly.

-The song was over way too soon and Keigo wanted more. 

-So what did he do?

-He made you to put the food aside and give him a lap dance. 

-Because he dump like dat.

TAG TEAM AY:

@brattyquirks​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (7)

“So! How does it look?” Toshinori asked, with a booming voice and his best hands-on-hips pose to kickstart the endeavor with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.

He wasn’t particularly successful. 

“Daunting. Impossible. Like I’m gonna die of old age before I’m anywhere close to making a change.”

“A little optimism goes a long way, you know?”

“...I may not die before I’ve lugged away some of this.” Midoriya amended tentatively, scanning the extensive length of garbage-filled beach stretching before them. “And… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger?”

“That’s the spirit!” Toshinori gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to make the boy stammer forwards. He walked around the back of the truck and started unloading the few supplies he’d brought.

“Wear these.” Toshinori threw him a pair of work gloves. He hoped he’d eyeballed the size right. “I trust you’re up to date with all your vaccines.”

“Uhm.”

“Hopefully no one’s dumping organic waste in here, but I’ll bring some traps if you see any rats. They won’t solve the problem, but it’s better than letting them scurry around freely.”

Midoriya’s eyes darted between the gloves and the beach with muted horror. “R-Rats?”

“Scared of rats?” Toshinori couldn’t help but tease. “Did I mention that I had to wade through the sewers for half an hour before finding you and the sludge villain the other day?”

Midoriya instantly looked mortified. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault! Don’t apologize!” Toshinori tossed his hands in the air. This kid desperately needed to learn the basic mechanics of humor. “I’m just saying that heroes can’t be squeamish! Rats come with the job, as well as a variety of nasty stuff and filth.”

“Right.” Midoriya followed him as Toshinori, cooler in one hand and bag of papers in the other, sat down on the last steps of the stairs. He picked an egg sandwich for himself and fished a folder out of the bag, opening it on his thighs and starting to read it.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Midoriya was still staring at him, as if awaiting further instructions.

“Well? Have at it!” Toshinori gestured widely at his new playground.

“Oh, uhm, okay.” The kid donned the gloves and took a single step towards the piles before pausing to look at Toshinori again. “I thought you wanted to ask me… stuff.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you can handle working and talking at the same time without building up some stamina first.” Toshinori answered, eyeing the boy’s scrawny frame critically. “We’ll talk while you’ll be taking a break to catch a breather, which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Oh… All right.” Midoriya turned away, his arms hanging limply from hunched shoulders as he muttered to himself.  “...Where do I even start...?”

“From the small things. Working your way up to the heavier objects.” Toshinori explained patiently, then gave him a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’re procrastinating.”

The boy approached the closest stack… and did nothing. Was he ever going to stop waffling and get cracking? “Meanwhile, you’ll just, uh… do your own thing?”

“Surely you don’t need me to guide you through the elaborate process of moving objects from point A to point B, do you?” Maybe the kid detected the hint of annoyance in Toshinori’s voice, because he finally, finally set to grab the closest piece of junk- “...Oh. Okay, that’s not a great start.”

“What?” Midoriya stopped halfway through picking up what was probably the first electric fan ever invented, all the way back in the Iron Age. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Bend your knees, not your back. Otherwise you’re going to- do you really not know this? Isn’t the correct way to lift weights Household Chores 101?”

“Oh, right, I know.” Midoriya rearranged his stance in a way that was less likely to earn him a slipped disk within the next two hours. “Do people really lift things like this though? It’s… a lot harder than the normal way.”

“For your legs, yes. For your back, no. You’ll thank me when you’ll be old enough to realize you aren’t made out of rubber.”

Toshinori munched slowly while he watched the kid carry his first loads to the truck. That act alone seemed to distract Midoriya to an amusing degree, his gaze often flicking to meet Toshinori’s eyes for just a moment before shooting back in front of him with blatant self-consciousness. Toshinori allowed the boy a few minutes of warm-up, just the time for him to finish his sandwich and sip a small cup of apple juice, before deciding to kick things into proper gear.

“Running from the truck to the heaps and vice versa would help you gain some endurance too, rather than leisurely strolling back and forth.” Toshinori commented as Midoriya walked past him. 

The kid stopped in his tracks and regarded him with a mix of horror and aversion that vaguely reminded him of death-row inmates when faced with their executioners.

“What?” Toshinori went on, unperturbed. “Are you expecting to get fit without getting tired?”

“No, of course not-”

“Besides, you’ll need to keep a swift pace if you want to clear the whole beach before the admission exam.”

“Wha- All of it?! Before the…” Midoriya sputtered, arms wrapping more tightly around the broken chair he was holding as if that was supporting him instead of the other way around. “Y-You never said…”

“But of course! They don’t do things by half measures in U.A., so why should you?” Toshinori grinned. “Plus Ultra, am I right?” 

Midoriya let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I can do something like that...”

“Depends on how much elbow grease you’re willing to put into it.”

Midoriya’s expression shifted minutely as he caught onto Toshinori’s seriousness. “But… but that’s impossible! No matter how hard I work, I can’t- I can’t move stuff like that!” He griped, pointing at the wrecked husk of a van half-buried under a mound of assorted refuse. “Even if I do my best-”

“And pray tell, what’s your best?” Toshinori stood up and walked to the kid, ditching the whimsical demeanor. If playful cajoling wasn’t enough to stir him, maybe it was time to bust out the big guns. “What’s the heaviest you can lift? The fastest you can run? The hardest you can push yourself? When’s the last time you actually tried your very best, and how did it fall short?”

Toshinori was already well and truly spent for the day, but he let the provocation and drive in his words stoke the fire within him, and it flared. The Symbol of Peace broke out of his diminutive shell among dramatic wisps of steam, ready to bestow his wisdom more effectively than his rickety counterpart ever could.

“Do you know what’s the only way to gauge your limits? Reaching them. And the only way to get stronger?“ Toshinori held out his arm between them, and clenched his fist resolutely. He relished the sensation of unyielding muscles tensing and bulging under his skin, tangible proof of the truth of his assertions. “Gritting your teeth and smashing past them! Little by little, but constantly!”

Midoriya had only witnessed that transformation once, poorly and by accident, and it showed. The chair had slipped from his hands without him even noticing, and now lay forgotten at his feet on the bare sand. The kid was gawking at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, the very picture of spellbound rapture. It was far from an unfamiliar reaction from whoever was graced by the Symbol of Peace’s presence, and yet it was still flattering, every time.

“You’ll never improve if you keep dwelling on what you think you can do now. Focus on what you want to do next. Visualize it as a clear goal. Build an image out of it, and then carve it in reality. If you really want that van to move, then it will move. If you really want this beach to be clear, then it will be. But you have to put your back, sweat and heart into making it happen!”

All Might captivated his one-man audience with the usual effortlessness, boisterous showmanship and honest positivity deeply intertwined in a way that boggled his detractors’ minds, but that felt so natural and appropriate to Toshinori. He’d made an art out of it, down to the rumble of his voice and the firmness of his gestures and the levity of his attitude, the art of highlighting and displaying the very best parts of himself so that they could resonate louder, better, brighter.

“So what will it be, young Midoriya? Will you clean up this place within the next ten months or not?”

“Y-Yes. I will.” That had done the trick. It was obvious from the way Midoriya’s back straightened and his expression toughened. It was obvious from the spark kindled in his eyes, a reflection of Toshinori’s own passion, still lacking in heat but full of potential.

“Then you’d better get down to it!” The hero sealed the deal with a radiant smile and a thumbs up. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

“Yes, sir!” Midoriya picked up the chair and dashed towards the truck to unload it there, then he immediately bounced back down the stairs and towards the nearest heap of waste. Toshinori observed the boy’s next rounds with his unwavering smile and few approving nods that kept the kid a bit lighter on his feet.

How much easier it was for All Might to touch people’s hearts. How much easier to inspire, to reassure, to nurture. How much easier everything was for All Might, really. If only that shining beacon of hope wasn’t shackled by the whims of a withering body, how much richer society at large would be for it. 

Toshinori let out a deep exhale that took more than just air out of him, and the flame settled down to a low glow. He couldn’t hold back a few wet coughs, and he promptly turned his shrunken back on Midoriya’s concerned glance to sit back on the cool steps.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more than motivation to strength training. Right off the bat, Toshinori could tell that Midoriya wasn’t going to last twenty full minutes of workout. He honestly didn’t know that an ostensibly healthy individual could reach the ripe age of fourteen with such poor body awareness. The boy had coordination and balance on par with a toddler’s: he stumbled on his feet, he tripped on sand, he nearly fell off the stairs twice before realizing that trying to climb them while his view was obstructed by the very items he was carrying might be a less than optimal solution. He seemed to be unaware of the existence of entire muscle groups, and Toshinori had to physically get up and mime movements for him to understand how to exert force more efficiently. Not to mention that he needed incessant needling lest his sprints quickly devolved into lax jogs. 

This whole training thing was going to be… an interesting experience, Toshinori could already tell.

Exactly sixteen and a half minutes later, the boy all but collapsed on the stairs beside Toshinori, gasping for air and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

“B-Break?” He pleaded, quite redundantly. 

Toshinori took pity on his plight and pushed the cooler in his direction. “Have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you…” The lack of polite refusal made Toshinori suspect that Midoriya had forgotten to bring his own water. 

“There’s sports drinks and fruit juice in there too. Save the snacks for after you’re finished, food and heavy workouts don’t always agree with each other.” Toshinori had packed food primarily for himself, expecting their after-school meeting to last long enough for him to slot in one or two meals in the meantime, but he had taken care of adding a few extras for the kid. A good idea, because the possibility of Midoriya face planting on the ground halfway through out of sheer exhaustion seemed more and more likely by the minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

“I promised bribes, didn’t I?” 

Midoriya flashed him the tiniest smile, and eagerly drank some water while Toshinori retrieved a small journal and a pen from the other bag. He skimmed through the list of preliminary topics he’d scribbled on the first page under Tsukauchi’s advice, wondering which one he should tackle first.

“All right.” Deciding to follow his instinct in spite of basic common sense, Toshinori decided to begin from the end. “These phone calls of yours. Give me an idea of what they’re like. The last one you had with your father was on April 1st, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. Everything you talked about, as precisely as you can remember it.”

The good thing was that Midoriya’s memory was very accurate, and he was able to recall the whole conversation basically step by step. The less good thing was that said conversation was largely commonplace and unremarkable, consisting of very ordinary small talk and inquiries about school, grades, news, local events-

“Quirks?”

“Mh-hm.” The boy nodded. “We always end up talking about quirks, in one way or another. Quirks and heroes. It’s always been… a common interest.”

“Always, uh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it since… forever, really. I’ve always found quirks fascinating, and he has lots of great insight to offer.”

“I can imagine...” Toshinori mumbled. Asking who had initiated that habit was probably pointless, it sounded like it had started too early in the boy’s life for him to remember - or even to understand if he had been deliberately led to develop that interest. Some intriguing nature-versus-nurture speculations could be made on the matter, but they weren’t likely to aid Tsukauchi’s case. “And in what way do you talk about them?”

“We… analyze them, discuss them. What is known for sure about a certain quirk, what can be deduced from footage and descriptions of its use, what its unmentioned limitations might be, how it could be further developed… You saw my notebook, right? Basically the kind of stuff that’s in there.”

“Wait.” Toshinori blinked. Could he have already stumbled into a treasure trove of All For One-certified information? “You mean that all that’s written in that notebook was dictated by your father?”

The kid almost choked on his next gulp of water, and shot Toshinori an almost offended look. “No! No, no, it’s all stuff I found out on my own! Well, almost all of it, there are some additions of his here and there, but… Uh, I’d say at least 90% of it is mine, and 10% of it is his… Actually, more like 95% and 5%-”

Well, that sounded less promising, but it was still a lead. “So he’s been basically teaching you how to conduct your own quirk analyses?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say teaching. I wish our school teachers were that engaging...” Midoriya let out a small sigh. “But I guess we do go about it a little like with school essays. Research, deadline, discussion and all that…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, every month we decide which heroes or quirks we’re going to talk about the next time - back in March we chose Hawks, Kido and Snatch for last month’s call, for example. During the rest of the month we gather information and draw our conclusions, and then we compare them during the next chat.”

“You’ve got quite the well-oiled routine going on there, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I think it’s just to give me a chance to make my own deductions with a clear head instead of on the fly.” Midoriya scratched said tousled head in embarrassment. “I bet he doesn’t even need to do any research, he’s always on the top of his game. I’ve never been able to, uh… one-up him, you know? He always knows what I’m driving at, and somehow he always brings my hypotheses two or three steps further than where I stop.”

Toshinori answered with a non-committal hum. No surprise there, the man was a living quirk storeroom complete with its own self-congratulatory, sentient database. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not like he’s ever… disappointed or angry or anything, even if I don’t get stuff. He just enjoys chatting, I guess.” That he surely did, Toshinori grimly thought. Way too much. “And I do too. It’s kind of like a game. Or a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah, uh… How can I explain…?” The boy drummed his fingers on the bottle as he collected his thoughts. “Okay, for example: one of the first things dad asked me about Hawks was what shape his wings are, and what I could deduce from that about his flight capabilities. Which was a trick question! I knew it as soon as I heard it, because I’d already figured out the real answer during my research.”

“Ah.” Toshinori blinked. “And… how is that a trick question, exactly?”

“Because Hawks doesn’t actually fly! Not like a bird, at least, so his wing shape doesn’t matter!” Midoriya beamed, and suddenly Toshinori realized that that was the first real, genuine, enthusiastic smile the boy had given him since they’d met. And, without exaggeration, not crying, panicking or grimacing made him look almost like an entirely different person. “He simply can’t! Humans can’t fly even if you stick a pair of wings to them, they’re just too heavy! Other heroes who can fly properly are mostly transformers, like Ryukyu - their whole bodies change when they shift, bone structure and all - but Hawks’ body is entirely human if you exclude his wings.”

Midoriya reached for his backpack and drew out the same charred notebook Toshinori had signed days earlier. An item so vital to the kid’s daily life that he always had it with him, apparently, even more essential than beverages during a workout session. A peculiar, if questionable, trait.

“What Hawks actually does isn’t flying, it’s levitating!” The kid held the notebook open before Toshinori’s eyes on a spread page dedicated to the hero in question. “He uses the second facet of his quirk, the telekinesis that allows him to control his feathers singularly! That also explains his incredible speed, which is completely unjustifiable if you only take into account normal bird flight aerodynamics. His propulsion is powered by his feathers - and each of them is quite speedy and powerful on its own, so it stands to reason that he would be lightning-fast when his wings contain so many of them pushing him in unison!”

Toshinori politely elected to wait for the onslaught of words to subside on its own, although he already suspected that it was a little like standing right under a waterfall and waiting for someone higher up to turn off the faucet.

“That said, that doesn’t explain everything about his quirk… For example, a single feather of his is capable of lifting and transporting an adult person, that has been extensively documented. Yet, he loses the ability to levitate relatively soon after dispatching too many of them - he becomes unable to float even when he still has at least several dozens of them attached to his body. We couldn’t figure out why that happens with the information we have. Maybe it’s harder for him to apply his power to himself, that is often the case for emitters. Maybe it messes with his proprioception, and he can’t control the feathers he hasn’t detached as finely as all the others…”

If there was one thing Toshinori was absolutely certain of at this point, it was that the kid wasn’t short on breath any more. “And this is the part you inferred on your own.”

“Yep! And dad agreed with all of it!” Midoriya’s smile grew even wider. It was astonishing how much it didn’t look like dad’s deranged, shark-like, nightmare-inducing sneer, and Toshinori could only send a quiet thanks to the heavens for that. “This is all guesswork though. Do you… by any chance, do you know if we were on the right track? I’d be really curious to know…”

“Ah, I can’t help you there, kid.” Toshinori felt suddenly on the spot. “I’m not acquainted with Hawks, nor do I know more about his quirk than the average person.”

“Oh, I thought… Since you’re both- I mean, I thought All Might may have met him during the billboard chart events, what with them both being in the top ten.”

“We passed by each other, yes, but we were never properly introduced. He wasn’t particularly interested in rubbing elbows with the old guard, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s his loss, for sure.” Midoriya, funnily enough, pouted. “Pity, I was wondering… Even if he doesn’t fly, he does flap his wings in a way that resembles a bird’s. I wonder if that’s intentional, to mislead opponents and prevent them from figuring out how he actually moves. Or maybe he does it subconsciously…”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know…” Toshinori had never met Hawks on the field either, it wasn’t common for accidents to require more than a single big-name hero to intervene these days. Especially if one of them was the number one, who often showed up first and invariably solved any incident in mere minutes-

Toshinori suddenly came back to himself and almost facepalmed in frustration. Why was he letting himself be interrogated about completely irrelevant hero trivia? He was the one asking questions! God, he was bad at this. “And your father had nothing to contribute about all this?”

“Not about this specifically, but he did raise a point I hadn’t considered.” Midoriya looked up at the sky, once again lost in his very wordy, very deep lucubrations. “Hawks has an astonishing control on his quirk. He can use his telekinesis to move hundreds of feathers at once, to sense his surroundings, he can even harden them and turn them into weapons. He made Fierce Wings into an incredibly versatile ability, and he’s so young too… And yet, there’s no record of him attending any hero school or training facility in Japan, nor abroad. He claims to be self-taught, but… admittedly, it is hard to believe. One would think he must have had some excellent education and tutoring to make it into the top ten when he was only eighteen…”

Toshinori didn’t reply. Midoriya looked back at him when the silence stretched, and whatever he spied on Toshinori’s face made him immediately backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s odd, but, uh… not suspicious per se, nor a sign of anything… weird or bad about him. There are many heroes who, ehr, prefer to keep their personal history private, especially geniuses, and that’s fine! They have all the right to! Same goes for their quirks, it makes total sense-”

Toshinori massaged his left temple slowly. Right, better just nip this topic in the bud before it got irredeemably out of hand. 

He peered again at the notebook in Midoriya’s hands. So All For One had been imparting occasional, amicable quirk analysis lessons to the kid for a good decade, which sounded suspiciously like the kind of knowledge a potential underling or successor might use. On the other hand, Toshinori could think of a million other ways for the Symbol of Fear to instil skills in his son - all of them remarkably more efficient, safe, manageable and ruthless. The whole thing was contradictory in a way that didn’t sit right with Toshinori.

“Mind if I take another look at that?” Toshinori had been in a bit of a rush the first time round, and he’d only taken a cursory glance at the contents of Midoriya’s notes. But if there was a chance of those pages containing words uttered by All For One himself, a more thorough examination was in order.

“Not at all! But, uh…” Midoriya was fast to hand out the item, but his eagerness to assist was even faster to dampen. “Are you going to retain this as evidence too?”

“Mh, I don’t think that will be necessary...” Right, the poor kid’s house had probably been ransacked even further after Toshinori and Tsukauchi’s first pass. No wonder he was worried about losing this prized possession too. “But if it will be, I can make a copy of it for you to keep, so you won’t lose all your, uh, data.”

“Oh, thanks! That would be great!” The kid perked up instantly. He was so easy to please. “Although… I guess I should make a copy of it myself anyway. It’s already kind of… unrecoverable. I could detach the pages with All Might’s sign and preserve those separately, and just photocopy everything else…”

Toshinori’s imagination mercilessly supplied him with the picture of a new addition to Midoriya’s bedroom decor, his five-second poorly-made signature hung to a wall in an elegant frame. He repressed a groan, deliberately neglected to point out that he could simply provide as many new authentic signs as needed, and directed his attention back to the scorched edges of the notebook. “Right… What happened to this thing, anyway? Did someone put it in a toaster?”

Midoriya let out a totally not nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands in a totally not nervous fashion. “Oh, uhm... You know…” Toshinori didn’t, actually, but the kid didn’t elaborate either. 

Well, he was allowed to have a modicum of privacy, still. Toshinori let the issue drop, and nudged the boy with his foot. “You seem well rested. Back to the trash you go.”

Midoriya shuffled to his feet less than enthusiastically, and resumed toiling away at his task. While still checking on him often, ready to poke and prod at the first hint of sluggishness, Toshinori browsed through the kid’s notebook. While the contents were indeed worthy of attention, they were scarce in quantity. It must be rather new, since less than a quarter of the pages had been filled. However, the promise of more material to be discovered made Toshinori withhold his judgement on the matter for the time being.

Once that was done, he continued his perusal of the few files Tsukauchi had already put together about the Midoriya case. Toshinori had practically begged his friend to let him have an active role, any active role in the case: he simply couldn’t bear to twiddle his thumbs until someone else kindly pointed him to All For One’s hideout for another overdue thrashing. He simply needed to be involved, or he’d probably start crawling up walls within a week.

Questioning the kid was pretty much the only suitable occupation for him, currently… Well, it was either that or questioning Mrs. Midoriya, and Toshinori was fairly sure that his brain would leak out of his ears if he heard any more details about All For One’s romantic escapades. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investigative work, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was going to spare no effort to earn some results. If that meant poring over reams of police reports in the hopes of spotting some helpful clue, so be it. At least it would keep him busy, and busy was good, especially in trying times.

He’d applied the same logic to Midoriya, in a sense. The boy seemed the kind of person who’d very easily overthink himself into a negative spiral, even in less dire circumstances than the messy family drama he’d found himself into. It would do him good to focus on a better future, rather than on his depressing present. Giving him a goal to set his sights on would keep him going more smoothly. 

At first Toshinori had thought to motivate him towards his dream career, but it turned out that the boy’s strategy about the admission test was… nebulous at best. Not that he could truly blame him for it: fourteen-year-old Toshinori didn’t exactly have a multi-step plan towards becoming the Symbol of Peace either, one couldn’t help being somewhat scatterbrained at that age. 

The illegal dumping site had been a serendipitous discovery, and cleaning it up was the perfect type of goal to incite the boy towards. It was very obvious and straightforward, and required no intricate planning: he simply needed to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. And the muscle he’d build while doing it would serve him well for heroic purposes too, so it was a win-win on all fronts. Not to mention that some good old physical exertion would help him sleep at night, which he was still struggling with, if the persistent bags under his eyes were of any indication. Toshinori dearly missed the times when that trick still worked on him too, when driving himself to the brink of exhaustion was a guaranteed one-way ticket to restful and regenerative dreamland. Nowadays, if he accumulated even a sliver of excessive fatigue, all he got was… well, fatigue. And a metric ton of unrelenting body pains and lasting debilitation.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly and unremarkably. Midoriya drudged through many rounds of garbage disposal with decreasing energy and verve, but that was to be expected. Toshinori collected more barely relevant and generally useless information, but that was to be expected too. They were both in for the long haul, there was no point in getting upset about it. Eventually the sun started to set, and Toshinori beckoned the boy back to him with a handwave.

“You have more of these?” Toshinori said, tapping his index on the big 13 on the cover of the notebook still on his lap.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you bring them with you next time?”

“All of them?” Midoriya seemed frazzled. 

“If you still have them, yes. Would that be a problem?”

The boy scratched his head as his cheek reddened slightly. “N-No, not a problem, but some of them are really… I finished the first one when I was seven. They aren't just outdated, they’re… ehr, childish. Just doodles and misspelled ramblings.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be grading them.” Not yet, at least. Toshinori smirked at his own private joke. Maybe he should grade them, as a small practice run. “I just want to give a quick read to a few things here and there.”

“O-Okay…”

“Good. Well, I think we can call it a day.” Toshinori rummaged in his cooler to fetch a chocolate energy bar, and tossed it to the exhausted boy. “Catch.”

Despite the warning, Midoriya did not catch, and the snack bumped against his chest and fell to the ground with a sad clack. Reflexes were MIA too, apparently. What a rare specimen of a prospective hero Toshinori had crossed paths with.

“T-Thank you!” Midoriya immediately picked it up, unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth as he hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. Whether it was real hunger or fear of passing as rude, Toshinori couldn’t tell.

The drive to Midoriya’s house was brief. The boy was too tired to chat - as if they hadn’t already had their fill for the day. When they arrived and Midoriya climbed out of the vehicle to be on his way, Toshinori finally addressed one last pressing issue.

“Tomorrow your father is going to call you.”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyes dropped to the ground. Maybe Toshinori should have brought it up sooner. Way to end the meeting on a sour note.

“How are you going to handle that?”

“I’m not.” The boy shrugged. “Mom will tell him I just got my tonsils removed. It's… safer for now. I think.”

Toshinori nodded. “Let’s take a day off then. Even if you can’t speak, he might want to say something to you, and it would be strange for you not to be at home while recovering.”

“Okay.”

He looked so very small, and so very young like that, bathed in the warm hues of sunset, but with no real warmth to his eyes and demeanor. He was too small and too young to be dealing with this shit. No one was old or big enough to deal with any of All For One’s shit, really. Toshinori would have to make sure no one would have to ever again.

“Thank you for your help today. It’s very appreciated, believe me.” Toshinori offered, with his most sincere smile. “Feel free to text me or Tsukauchi if anything comes up, you should be able to reach at least one of us at any hour of day or night.”

“Okay. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too, kid.” Toshinori watched him until the door of his house closed behind his back, then he drove off.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[katerix]

(How old is New Vegas? And it’s still my fav part! I feel like I need more Raul content even after all these years🥺)

Drink with the living dead

Characters: Raul Tejada x Reader Summary:  Courier and her companion returned to New Vegas after a long wandering to get a drink and gamble, but faced serious inhospitality. Six was not ready to leave her friend behind, so they changed their plans. Warnings: - Words: 2781

***

It was almost half past midday, when a dusty dirty road to New Vegas welcomed the wanderers with just another sandstorm without any declaration of war. Courier’s mirror aviator sunglasses could hardly stand that gusts of winds, so she decided to hide it in the pocket of her jacket until the better times. Six and her ghoul-companion were on foot for nearly five hours, and now the hightower of «Lucky 38» looked huge in contradiction from its look an hour ago.

It was not their first visit to New Vegas, but every time she saw a glowing and sparkling casino’s signs, she was bringing up the idea of going there and wasting an evening gambling and drinking. Just like everyone does. The fact that she spent here some time, passing all the entertaining places by, met with Mr. House and performed several missions for NCR ambassador, but still never took a break to try some of those things, these poor fellows from all Mojave wasteland were arriving for - was a crime by its definition.

Coddling this thought, Courier continued to trudge the nasty weather, until they walked up to the Northern gates of Freeside.

- What’s the plan when we reach Strip, boss? - asked Raul, shaking his dull-green jumpsuit down: it all was full of pervasive grains of sand, as well as the girl’s clothes.

- At first I wanna visit the «Lucky 38» apartment and change the outfit, then go to the bar and win big in the kazino!

- Perfect plan, chief, ironclad like my revolver. - the ghoul was sarcastic as usual, but didn’t evince any sight of disagreement.

When she turned around to continue movement, he added: “Wait, amigo, there's a tuft of straw stuck under your collar.” - and carefully extracted an annoying piece of flora, stuck to during the storm.

“Gracias!” - Six smiled widely and made a fast gesture of gratitude with her hand. Without wasting time, they passed heavy metallic gates.

Freeside met companions with a funky, stinking smell. She still couldn't get used to it. Dusty air seemed to mar the cityscape: it looked much pale and lighter than from the outside. Just fifteen minutes and they’ll reach the destination. The picture couldn’t be called unusual for this time of the day in this part of town: one or two shabby hobos against the dingy walls, kids in wrecked clothes playing a tag-game in the area of the «Mick & Ralph's», random citizens with roving glances, sneaking around, wasting their time in an idle attempts to figure out how to spend their life in this Dump. On the other hand, there are many places where people live even worse: take a look at Westside, for instance.

«What a hopeless sight, - thought the girl. - Hope the Followers are really able to do something about this in the future».

- Something on your mind, boss? - it felt like nothing could hide from Raul’s inquisitive look.

- Just thinking. I find this picture quite dismal, like there’s no tomorrow, and humanity is still doomed. Like there’s no chance to restore life, as it was before.

- When we are on the road again, I’ll tell you about the Football Cup in Mexico, if you like to hear another one “before the Bomb” story. - he obviously picked up on her mood and decided to cheer up the girl, carefully diverting the theme.

- I do. Have you attended it?

- Sure thing. That was a big day. We drove to the capital to see it with our own eyes.

- Sounds pretty good! Let’s not ruin the intrigue.

- You asked.

They passed a small cross-road, which didn't have to be called like that anymore, as it was just one of the ghosts of the past with it’s burned skeletons of cars, left here motionless as evidence of human lost ambitions. The air in this part of the town was stale, despite the fact that they were in the streets, the smell of some broiling meat and spoiled vegetables was sticky like an ant's nectar. Sudden wild cryings and shouts were heard from the nearest dead end. 

One glance was enough to understand that the Kings had cornered swashers, their prey, who were too fucked up and all-fired sure of themselves to attack the town’s main showrunners just a couple of minutes ago. And the Courier was not going to do anything about that: she herself was nearly butchered by one of them, shown up from nowhere. If it was not her loyal companion who dealt with it with one precise shot, she, probably, would be dead by now.

It took more than ten minutes to cover the distance between the East and Strip gates - right now there was no reason to hurry. As they got closer, the protectrons took up their positions immediately. One of them articulated “Move along” with a familiar metallic cold of lifeless voice of his, when companions were passing by.

“Never liked these guys. They are like slow mines: you never know what they do the next second.” - grunted out the Courier, as two of them found themselves on the first line of the Strip between “Lucky 38” and “Gomorrah”.

“Hey, so who is an old one here?” - the ghoul chuckled in response.

She went ahead, so he could never see how her lips slightly bended in a ready-to-laugh smile.

***

Presidential luxe met nomads with a deep, wrapping silence of a broad, gloomy space. This was definitely not the place a person could wish to stay in: walls with, once being gorgeous - now - greasy dark-wine wallpapers were giving an oppressive feeling. Six was happy that they didn’t have to stay here for long. Only to sleep or change the outfit maybe.

She got near to the wardrobe in her room, where the majority of things, accumulated during the long travels, were stored. Took out two dresses, went to the guest-room with a billiards. Raul was civilly waiting for her there.

- What you think? Which one?

He raised up his head, looked from under the sunglasses for several seconds, examining, and answered in a casual tone:

- It’s really up to you, boss. - made a pause, then added, like a little confused: - But I like the pink one. Might look graceful.

- Great! Exactly the one I wanted to pick.

The ghoul just gave her a hesitant nod, wondering if she noticed that detail. Courier went back to her sleeping-room and returned after some minutes, informing: “Ready to go! The next stop is “Ultra-Luxe”, yee-haw!”

***

After a while they were in the street again. All they needed was just to reach the second line of the Strip and pass a hundred meters to the “Ultra-Luxe”. Lots of NCR soldiers were hanging around, goofing off, as long as they had a chance, and indulging in lust in the nearest private clubs. Nothing unexpectable. When they passed by a small group of drunk, barely balancing on their feet big guys, Six suddenly heard a hushed voice from behind her back, addressing his teammates. “Do they let ghouls on the Strip now? Perfect, let’s make it a spooky ghost-town.”

“Yeah. That’s why civilization will start floating away again. Our attempts are meaningless.”

Only just Courier wanted to turn around and shout out something to those sons of a b or event take out a gun and shoot beneath their feet, Raul caught her arm:

- Hey, hey, calm down, that’s okay. NCRs are many here, you know, even for a dashing rider like you, boss. Even with me backing you up. From behind the farthest stone.

- But we can’t simply swallow that shit, Raul!

He just spreaded his hands:

- Fine, then go shoot them and be killed by protectrones because of two drunk idiots. Very helpful, chief. I’ll stay all alone, without my beloved companion but with a protected pride. Thank’s.

Six stood still for some seconds and nodded after that.

- Fine. Whatever.

Then merely continued walking in the direction of the cazino. The ghoul hesitated for a bit. He understood that she was acting out of good intentions and she just wanted to protect her partner, as she was the one who had a right of speech here. And that made his heart melt and he was silently praising her for that, because nobody seemed to do anything like that for him in a while. But picking a fight with these dummies, who fill the streets of Strip like water fills the canyon, was not wise.

“Sorry for that, Niña. I really appreciate what you do. I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You don’t notice, but there are often lots of sidelong looks and hardly heard whisperings along the way. I'm used to it and don’t want it to affect you.” - he tried to lighten things up.

The girl turned her head a bit just for him to see her glance softening.

- Let’s just reach the bar and relax.

*** 

An unexpected trouble struck them further - black line has not ended yet. Courier already picked her place at the bar desk in the distant hall and ordered a glass of whiskey, when a bartendress leaned over and said in a low tone:

“I’m sorry, but here, in “Ultra-Luxe”, we serve only the citizens and guests of the Strip. I’m able to bring a drink only for you, ma’m.”

That was the last drop of her patience. The girl slowly raised her head at the bartendress, ready to blow up, and responded:

- Are you fucking kidding me?

- That’s the rule. I don’t need problems. You can ask any guard or another worker.

She bowed her head and gave a fast hidden glance at her ghoul-companion. He was sitting there next to her and looking straight at his arms crossed on the desk, like he had nothing to do with it. But he, of course, heard every word. His eyes weren't moving, just a finger was slightly knocking the air, producing a rhythm he alone knew. Six couldn’t even imagine what her friend might feel at the moments like that. An anger came upon her.

“Are you all that scumbags here? Keep your drinks for acceptable ones. Ma’m.” - the girl said, getting up from her barstool and heading towards the exit.

Raul stood up without a word and, as he always did, followed Courier. He had mixed emotions. On the one hand he was glad they left that place and that Six is such a kind and loyal partner, but on the other hand he felt a little guilty for himself. After all, it was him who was the reason for such inhospitality in some kind of place. Even now she couldn’t get what she wished for so hard. Her idea of “winning big” in the kazino seemed to be falling apart, as together they won’t be even let to the gambling table. And she, obviously, won’t leave him in the street and have fun on her own, and an old ghoul didn’t want to be a ball and chain.

- Boss? Are you sure we need to leave? Maybe you’d better stay there? And I’d wait for you somewhere else or go back to “Lucky 38”. Fresh air won’t do any harm for my old lungs.

- What are you even talking about? You know, even the best drink worth nothing, if there’s no one to share it with.

- You have a heart of gold, chiff. - these words came fast, in an undertone, as if he was embarrassed, - Well, I saw a small sign in Freeside. I believe we’ve never been in that part of the city before.

- Hope it’s not an «Atomic Wrangler».

- Nope.

- Great! You lead. They passed the ruins, generously spread all over the suburbs, while every their step sounded louder thanks to trash, small pieces of brick and other rubbish. The sun was already going down and the heat was getting less intense.

Finally they reached a small inconspicuous wooden door. Only a little sign next to it represented that place as a bar.

As they entered, nothing changed. There was not much to be changed. There were no crowds of gamblers, no fancy casino machines and no shiny-polished bar desk. Bartender was a man in old ragged clothes, probably in his late fifties. He was slowly wiping cut glasses with a gray dusty piece of fabric full of holes.

When the companions stepped in the room he just looked up at them without raising up his head and got back to his plain, simple activity. There were not many customers besides the two of them. A woman was sleeping on the table in the far corner - her head rested on her arms while her shoulders were calmly going up and down. Another guest settled down at the edge of the bar desk.

“Fancy,” - giggled the girl.

“Ah, let’s get down. Ladies first.” - Raul just waved his hand.

Six made a few steps in the direction of the bar desk and sat down, Raul followed her.

“Barman! Two beers, please”. - she laid some bottle caps in front of him.

The barkeeper took them and then put two opened bottles onto the surface.

“Bon appetit.”

Courier took her bottle up and clinked it loudly with Rauls one. His soft non-blinking sight of half closed eyes was locked on hers, while he made a sip. His heart always went pop when it felt like there were just two of them in the world, though he never showed that.

Raul looked around and suddenly his eyes stopped on a guitar lurked behind the racks.

“Hey, can I…?”

The barman followed ghoul’s gaze and shrugged his shoulders: “This piece of wood? Be my guest.”

In the next second he was on his feet. The courier raised her eyebrows as she almost forgot if she saw him that agile. Raul approached the metal shelves, put aside some garbage and waste paper, then carefully extracted the instrument and blew away the dust.

Six and the bartender were watching him closely. The ghoul got back to his chair, sat down crossing his legs to position the guitar more comfortably. Then pulled the first string to check out the tuning. It was no surprise that it was out of tune, so the next minute Raul spent trying to fix the instrument.

When everything, as he thought, was ready, he played a couple of notes in fingerstyle to flex some life back into his fingers. After nearly 200 years the skill was obviously weakened.

“I didn’t know that you could play the guitar.” - said the girl.

“Sure you didn’t. I never told about that.” - he looked back at her with a little smirk, - “What was the point if there were no music instruments left anyway?”

He laid his right arm down on the body of the guitar, fingers on the cracked wooden surface, and took a deep breath.

At first Courier could hardly hear or see the slightest movement of ghoul's fingers on strings, but soon the sound became more clear. She was sitting there with a bottle in her hand, unable to look away from her companion.

The sound of slow mexican melody floated across the room, filling every corner of the room with itself. The windows were closed with wooden boards from the outside, so the sunlight was trickling down through narrow gaps between them. Warm light was leaving gold-yellow lines on the walls, tables and the bardesk where the Courier and Raul were sitting. She could even see the tiniest specks of dust freeze in the air. The ghouls face was half hidden by a shadow and the sunbeams were highlighting one of his eyes which now looked like a beautiful transparent crystal and his hands all covered with veins and partially with thin skin.

The whole space imbued with peace and calm, even the impenetrable bartender set his glass aside and leaned his head on the hand, listening to the sensual music.

They travelled together for a while now, but never before had Six seen him the way she did now. Something new was arising in her soul.

“Hey chief,” - Raul closed his eyes and slightly threw back his head grinning a little, fingers still dancing over the strings. - ”You’re the best friend and partner one could ever wish for, you know. Thank you for always being on my side.”

“Raul, I’ll never leave my partner in crime behind!” - she chuckled as she felt like something pinned her heart.

The ghoul continued playing the tune without opening his eyes. A grin turned into a soft smile and the feeling of joy span all over him for the first time in a while.

“I’m following you to the world’s end, boss.”

Also, here’s a link to this fanfic on my AO3 (gif is mine \ use credits if repost)

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #12

 Word Count: ~ 2.400

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 12: Secret Santa

December had come around, bringing with it the heaps of snow Hogwarts had been spared from so far. Within days it buried everything in sight under a thick white blanket, transforming the landscape outside into a powdery winter wonderland.

Peeves had took it as his personal assignment to dump a heap of snow on every unsuspecting passer-by from questionable heights until Professor McGonagall publicly threatened to turn him into a Christmas cracker if she saw him with so much as a single snowflake in his unsubstantial hands again.

And as the castle was slowly but surely covered in ornaments and twinkling lights, the festive spirit spread into even the most remote corners of the dungeons.

It had become tradition for the Hufflepuff team to celebrate the holidays in their own way. Even back when Orion hadn’t been captain, the team used to gather after the last practise of the year for a small get-together in the Common Room, including a game of Secret Santa.

Whereas the idea of material gifts had never posed much of an interest to him, Orion couldn’t deny the astounding effect the game had on the rest of the team. The excitement of receiving a present from someone unknown positively electrified his friends. Consulting the ones closest to your assigned person for a suitable gift never failed to knit their team closer together.

So he had just continued entertaining this ritual after he had stepped up into his position. Especially this year, they could do with a little bit of festive unison.

The snowfall had increased again just as they were wrapping up their last manoeuvres. Everyone practically jumped off their broomsticks to retreat into the comforting warmth and light of the Common Room.  

McNully was already waiting for them as they entered through the narrow passageway, a trail of melted snow dragging on behind them. A small jute pouch adorned with an embroidered Christmas Tree rested on his lap. Fully immersed in the festive spirit, he was sporting a particularly nasty sweater picturing a badger dancing with a raven instead of his usual white shirt and tie. His golden snitch was still pinned to his chest, however.  

He wiggled his eyebrows in anticipation as they all got changed into their yellow and black team sweaters and settled down around him. A pot of hot chocolate was passed around, the warm smell spreading in the Common Room as each player poured themselves a cup, glad for something to put their freezing hands around.

McNully reached into the pouch and started mixing up the slips of parchment he had prepared in advance while reminding them of the rules.

“It is time for our annual Christmas draw, ladies and gentlemen! As we have some new faces to join in on the fun this year,” he inclined his head towards Everett, “I will present to you the rules once again.”

Orion shook his head with a chuckle. Murphy McNully, forever the presenter.

“Everyone is to draw a name of another member of the team. You have time until Christmas Day to buy, craft or create a suitable present for your assigned person. You may not reveal your identity to them unless they guess correctly. You are not to reveal your draw to another person unless your un-festive mind can’t think of anything to gift and needs creative assistance. If you fail to deliver on your task, I will brand you a Christmas troll and announce it publicly on your next friendly.”

Orion bit back a laugh at Murphy’s newest addition to the rules. His friend took the holidays very seriously.

They all took their turn lining up and dove their hands into the pouch, pulling out a neatly folded piece of parchment. The reactions to the names written on them ranged from relief over confusion to horror when it was a particularly difficult person to find a gift for. Orion found it fascinating to observe.

Laughter erupting from one of the armchairs drew his attention. Skye slumped in it while Lizzie was sitting on the floor with her back against the yellow armrest. Lucy had just showed her parchment to them, looking more chagrined than anything. Upon reading what was written on it, Skye had whispered something to them, prompting the girls to burst into laughter.

“You are not supposed to show who you got just yet!” Murphy scolded the girls. Spreading Christmas joy was a very serious business to him.

“Sorry!” Lizzie tried to appease him while still shaking from suppressed laughter. “Just go on!” Skye muttered something into her ear, drawing another set of giggles from her.

With an indignant huff Murphy returned to monitor the drawing while Orion quietly observed the scene. There were still some stray snowflakes hanging in her hair which was curling around her face as it dried in the warm air of the room. Her cheeks had turned red from laughing at Skye’s joke, a smile lingering on her lips, reaching up into her eyes.

He hadn’t seen Lizzie as carefree since what had happened back at the concert a few weeks prior. Everyone but McNully had left Hogsmeade soon after she had suddenly disappeared. They had found her in the Common Room, curled up in front of the fireplace, nose buried in a book and Mouse snuggled up on her lap. She had retreated to her dorm almost immediately after their arrival.

Neither of them had mentioned what had happened with so much as even a word. It wasn’t like Orion had a problem with that. He wasn’t entirely sure himself in what direction they had set their steps that day, or why he couldn’t get a hold of the reason everything had gone out of hand. It was like smoke, evading his grasp as soon as he tried to set his mind on unravelling what had taken place between them.

But he had noticed how Lizzie had started avoiding his company. Where she had been perfectly comfortable around him before, she now made sure someone was with her at all times, positively clinging to Skye when they had practise or her friend Rowan during their tutoring lessons.

It was this change of atmosphere Orion felt truly sorry about. He considered his friends his family and Lizzie actively seeking her distance from him unsettled him more than he cared to admit. It had never been his intention to cross a line. Like  a fool, he had let himself get carried away in the spur of the moment. He should have known better by now.

He missed chatting with her in the greenhouse the most. Lizzie was one of the few people seeing beyond him being the captain of the Hufflepuff team. She was actually listening to what he had to say. Instead of tuning out when she didn’t understand his point, she gave his words a thought until she had figured it out.  

As much as he longed to equilibrate their friendship again, he would have never forced her to talk to him if she clearly did not wish to do so.

Perhaps it was a good thing the Christmas break was so close. For the first time in years Orion was glad almost everyone was returning home for the holidays. Having the Common Room mostly to himself was the perfect occasion to take a step back and regain the balance he had been struggling to maintain as of late.

He wasn’t the only one watching the chuckling group of girls, however.

Everett seemed to be oddly interested in their conversation as well, his intense gaze trailing Lizzie’s every movement. Sensing Orion’s attention shifting to him, he suddenly perked his head up. His grey eyes narrowed as they made contact with Orion, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air between them.

Orion had no interest in a fight with him, so he merely held his gaze with level eyes. It took Everett a moment, but eventually, he broke the contact and turned away.

“Why is he looking at you like that?” McNully had finished monitoring the draw and came over to him. Everyone else was chatting excitedly about gift ideas and the upcoming break by now.

Orion’s eyes followed Everett as he got up and strutted over to the boys sharing their dorm. Maybe choosing him for the team had not been the wisest decision after all.

“People with strong characters like him often feel the inherent need to establish a hierarchy between them and others they deem a threat to their dominance,” Orion responded, half lost in thought.

“A threat, you?” McNully chortled.

He had to smile at his poor choice of words. “While I may not portray a dominant character, as captain I do fill the most prominent position in this team,” he explained his meaning. “I consider every one of us a vital piece of the greater picture and I find rivalries within our team to be unfortunate; we should always strive for unison. Because without unison, how can we reach a common goal?”

McNully stared after their roommate, silently calculating. “Whatever this is about, if he happened to have drawn your name, I’d like to inform you that there is the small possibility of 9.2 % that a present from him might be really unpleasant.”

His face suddenly lit up again and he shoved the almost empty pouch in Orion’s face. “Speaking of which, there’s only you and I left now.”

Not being half as enthusiastic as his friend, Orion waved him on. “Go ahead, I’ll take the last one.”

McNully pulled one of the two remaining slips of parchment out of the bag. A grin spread on his face when he read the name written on it. “Oh, that’s a tough one,” he mused, grey eyes sparkling. “Brilliant! I like a good challenge.”

He upended the pouch into his hand and handed the last parchment to Orion; he always took the one that was left.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile as he read the name written on it. Apparently, the universe had his own twisted sense of humour.

“Who’d you get to make you grin like that?”

Skye had suddenly appeared by his side, craning her head to catch a glimpse of the piece of paper between Orion’s fingers. He shifted his arm slightly to block her view and folded it up again.

“Skye, are you coming? We need to finish that Charms essay before the library closes,” Lizzie called over to her friend. She had gotten to her feet, her hand resting only lightly on the back of the armchair. She seemed very eager to leave the scene.

“Go ahead if you don’t want to wait, I’ll catch up to you.”

Lizzie hesitated for a moment before stepping back towards the group. She rubbed her hands against her arm and joined them, albeit subtly standing as far away from Orion as possible without it looking suspicious. He noticed it anyway.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment as she caught him looking at her and she immediately dropped her gaze, suddenly very invested in pulling on a loose thread at the hem of her sweater.

Skye tried to use his distraction to her advantage. With a quick movement she attempted to snatch the piece of parchment he was still holding between his index and his middle finger out of his hand.

“You are not supposed to know!” McNully shooed her away as Orion tucked the paper into the pocket of his pants.

“Don’t violate the rules, Skye Parkin, I’m warning you!” McNully scowled at her. “Lucy shouldn’t have shown you her parchment either. What was so funny about it anyway?”

Skye stuck her tongue out at him. “Of course, now you want to know.” She snickered again. “Lucy got Everett and has no idea what to get him. I told her maybe a braincell or two wouldn’t hurt.”

Orion tried to suppress his grin in vain, while even Lizzie started giggling again. Everett really didn’t seem to be the most popular member of their team.

“This is not what this game is about!” Murphy scolded, but he was grinning at Skye’s suggestion all the same. “Don’t ruin the Christmas spirit with your bad jokes.”

They were the only ones left in front of the fireplace. The other members of their team had one after the other filed away, now minding their own business. Skye sat down on the armrest of the sofa, resting her feet on the cushions.

“Speaking of Christmas, what are your plans this year?”

“I’m with my mum and grandma of course ,” Murphy told them while pointedly pushing Skye’s feet off the seat again. “Orion is going stay at the castle, I presume?”

Orion inclined his head. He always stayed at Hogwarts if he could.

“I’ll be with my family as well,” Lizzie added to the conversation. “We haven’t had a family Christmas for two years in a row now. My parents have been visiting my brother Jacob in the States.”

“I remember; you were at Weasley’s place for the past two years, weren’t you?” Skye mused. “That was when you and him- “

“Exactly; I’m really looking forward to being home for a bit,” Lizzie shut her friend up hurriedly.

Orion could see her cheeks blush slightly. He wondered why she was so intent on silencing Skye.

“It’ll be great to spend a bit of time with my family,” she quickly continued, brushing over Skye’s protest. “I’ll probably meet Penny some time as well; her family doesn’t live far from us.”

Skye had stopped protesting at her words; a sad expression shone in her eyes. The relationship between her and Penny was still strained, as far as Orion was aware.

He watched the girls chatter on about Christmas in silence. He saw Skye lean in to Lizzie. Although he didn’t mean to overhear their conversation, Skye was talking too loudly for him not to hear her words.

“You’re meeting Penny?” she asked silently. “Do you think you could talk to her on my behalf? Things are still so weird and I just want this to be over with,” she pleaded.

Lizzie shrugged. “Sure, I can try.”

“Smashing!”

Orion was still thinking about Skye’s request after the girls had left for the library and he and McNully had started a round of Wizards Chess. The Christmas break came at exactly the right time. It was an opportunity to look at things from a healthy distance and to get things back to order.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was desperately in need of it.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.3 - Young Yunichika

3. THIRD TOUCH

Okay maybe I’ll try doing the dialects after all. Stop me if it gets too cringe or something.

Also Yori-chan’s voice is deep

Previous || Index || Next

The next day boys’ volleyball team could use the gym was Friday. Kuroba nonchalantly confirmed that on the notice board he hadn’t looked at in a long time. And so, after school on that day, as he was paying attention to Haijima’s movements, Haijima carried his bags over his shoulder and left the classroom as soon as he finished cleaning, as though he had been waiting impatiently. Kuroba also hurriedly pulled out his bag from his locker and was about to tail him, but…

“Hold on a minute. You’re going home? You’re the one on trash duty today.”

A girl from his class blocked his path and foisted two eighteen-litre drums that were used as the classroom’s trash cans onto him. To go to the garbage dump at the back of the school, he had to change into his outdoor shoes at the entrance and go outside once, which was somewhat of a bother. Plus, it was this season.

He lost a lot of time as he ran to the garbage dump and back while grumbling about the cold. Even though he had planned to follow Haijima closely after school and observe all of his actions, his plan went awry immediately. No, it’s not really a mission that needed to be carried out exactly as planned, it was just an idea to kill time——.

“You’re into some boring stuff, huh.”

He felt a sense of competitiveness, wanting to see just what kind of “non-boring stuff” Haijima, who had stated that, was doing.

Today it was the girls’ basketball team and boys’ volleyball team that used each half of the gym. As soon as he pushed open the heavy deep-blue metal doors and peeked inside,

“Dash!” “Yes!” “Next!” “Yes!”

He ended up poking his head into the middle of a flurry of enthusiastic girls’ voices.

Girls’ basketball was a major faction in girls’ athletic department, rivalling girls’ volleyball. At a quick glance, there were about twenty members in the club. It seemed that they had just finish doing dashes and were about to move onto practicing with the ball.

But at the same time, when he looked closely at the other side of the green partition net down the middle, that side of the court hadn’t even finish setting up, much less doing warm-ups.

Next to the pole used for volleyball, Haijima was putting up the net. He was wearing plain black trainers, black shorts with a florescent stripe, and long black underpants that went all the way to his ankles. Are his sneakers Mizuno? They were probably full-fledged volleyball shoes. All of them seemed quite well-worn. It might be prejudice, but he found it irritating how refined and stylish he looked, like a middle schooler from the city. But he could tolerate it because he didn’t have an idol-like face. He could see that his fingers on both hands that were tying the net’s cords were also taped today. His thumb, index finger and middle finger on both hands were taped from their tip, covering the nail, to just above the second joint.

After finishing putting up the net by himself, Haijima started running around the court. He finally started warming up much later than girls’ basketball. Along the lines, at a fixed pace, his gaze slightly lowered…by himself… Kuroba unconsciously held his breath as he watched him come and go from the other side of the metal doors.

Finishing the light jog that mixed in side stepping or something like that, he stretched carefully before pushing the cage of balls towards the end line of one end of the court. It seemed that he was going to practice serving. The line at the back end of the court was the end line.

In six-people volleyball, each position rotated clockwise once every time the team commits a side out (gaining the right to serve), the person who came to the back right became the server. The area behind the end line was the service zone (the place where you can serve). Though imperfectly, Kuroba was a member of the volleyball team, so he was at least taught the basics.

He put the ball in his left hand, extended his arm straight before him to eye level, and stayed still for a beat. His perfectly still form was incredibly cool. He threw the ball up slightly forward with a swing of his arm and a snap of his wrist—how high was his toss? That’s right, don’t position yourself too far back from the line, he thought—he ran forward to chase after the ball and jumped, and then hit the ball with his left hand that tossed it.

A jump serve! He was surprised. He thought there were few middle schoolers who could do a jump serve unless they were a national tournament-class player.

From a high hitting position, the ball was driven in with enough force to bend his body backwards, but it was slightly too low and got caught on the net before dropping down to his own side of the court.

However, it didn’t matter to Kuroba whether it went over or not. He was entranced, feeling like he was shown something very high level. A jump serve was like spiking a ball in a serve, an offensive serve that flew into the opponent’s court with the most force. Even none of his senpais had hit one before, so this was the first time he saw one in person. Amazing, so cool…He unconsciously leaned out from behind the doors and strained his eyes to see the next one better.

Haijima himself didn’t seem pleased that it didn’t go over, and he took out the next ball from the cage while glaring at the net with a petulant face. It seemed that he planned on fetching the balls all at once after using up the balls in the cage. After all, he was “alone.”

It happened when Haijima took the serve stance once again.

“Hey hey, transfer student!”

A voice came from the neighbouring court over the partition net. He was pretty sure she was the head of girls’ basketball who was in the same class as Itoko. The other members were scattered along the wall with their towels in hand, taking a breather. With an aura of blatant annoyance rising from him, Haijima put down his left hand that holding the ball.

Basically, they were telling him to hand over the court. Come to think of it, there was no reason for the other clubs to considerately leave the spot for boys’ volleyball open, which had been neglected until now. He can easily imagine the tacit understanding that “the day we’re next to boys’ volleyball is the day we can use the whole court.” But then one day, Haijima suddenly appeared and, without even a word to his neighbors, set up the net and started practicing by himself with a face like it’s natural…The other clubs, who were under the impression that they could also use the whole court today as well stared at that with unaccepting faces…He could picture that in his mind so vividly he couldn’t bear standing there a second longer.

“You’re by yourself today too? As you can see, we’re packed like sardines over here. If you’re gonna do it by yourself, wouldn’t it be better to just do it in a corner?”

At some point, everyone from girls’ basketball gathered in front of the partition net to put pressure on Haijima.

“Hey, if you’re just playing around by yourself, then isn’t it better to go do it in a corner?” “We can practice more efficiently if we can use two courts.” “I think it’s fair if we divide the surface area according to number of members.” The group was pressing clamorously.  It was more like a group of ferocious girls than girls’ basketball. The image of a deer in Nara Park being surrounded by a herd of female African lions came to mind, but if he said that aloud, girls’ basketball would almost certainly strangle him.

Even though Kuroba was completely terrified just by looking, Haijima didn’t recoil in the slightest. He bent his chin slightly and glowered at the confronting group with narrowed eyes, as though looking down on them. Being able to take that shameless attitude in this atmosphere—are his nerves as thick as sewage pipes? No, maybe he was lacking the nerves to read the air in the first place. Yeah, I feel like that’s the case, judging by his attitude from the first day he transferred here until now.

“I can’t practice without having one side of the court. The number of people doesn’t matter. If you don’t have enough space to practice, talk with your advisor. I’m just using my rightful privilege.”

That voice, which was by no means loud but reached the ears across the space, and his standard Japanese that sounded haughty and cold compared to the local dialect, silenced the girls’ basketball club. Their complaining voices became muffled and weak, as though the volume of a TV was turned down, but they looked at each other with unaccepting faces, saying, “What’s with this kid, gives me nasty vibes…” “Why’s he actin' so high and mighty…?”

Ugh, Kuroba groaned inside his head. This was the first time he heard Haijima say a rather decently long line, but perhaps his likability wouldn’t go down yet if he didn’t speak… A sound argument was a sound argument, but the way he said it was too awful in any case.

“Hey, ya ain’t got any complaints if he ain’t alone, right?”

Even he was surprised at himself for stepping out from behind the doors and calling out to them. The girls’ basketball team looked back all at once and he flinched inwardly, but outwardly throwing out his chest to try not to give into the pressure.

“S-sorry for bein’ late…”

Even so, his face froze and his voice trailed off.

“Ain’t that Kuroba Yuni?” “Oh, Itoko’s cousin?” “Was he in boys’ volleyball?” Girls’ basketball was buzzing amongst themselves, but the one who was the most surprised might be Haijima. His brows were knitted together and he looked extremely bewildered, his face seeming to say “What the hell are you doing?”　What the hell am I doing, you ask…What the hell am I doing?

He was actually told that.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“What the hell are you doing?”

Haijima stood facing the net from court end, dribbling a ball in his left hand. The ball that bounced off the floor settled into his hand like it was sticking to it. Kuroba sat cross-legged courtside and set his bag aside. A ball had rolled within reach, so he stretched his hand and pulled it in. This might be the first time he touched a volleyball in a while. It felt somewhat ticklish.

On the other half of the court, girls’ basketball had resumed practice. He could feel the vibrations of the wild dribbling, like venting anger that had no outlet, through his bottom. Even though the gym floor was always fluffy with dustballs, it was clean now, as though it was mopped before practice. By himself…? He must have taken the time before practice started.

“I just came here to watch. The stuff I do gets called boring, so I thought you must be doin’ somethin’ fun over here. But I didn’t come here to rescue you. That was just because I felt like it. It’s not about you, it’s just that twenty against one is unfair.”

“It’s still not very reassuring even if it’s twenty against two.”

“You’re not cute at all, you know. You’ll lose friends by saying stuff like that.”

The ball that was rhythmically going back and forth between Haijima’s palm and the floor viciously hit his toes and flew in an unexpected direction. …Hmm? Was he agitated just now?

With a sour face, Haijima took out another ball from the cage. After lightly bouncing the ball, he placed his left hand on it and extended his arm directly in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and stared intensely at the point beyond the ball. The rite of mental concentration was not long. It was about a second in time. He turned it with one hand and released a high set. Chasing his own set, he ran three steps, sank his knees deeply and jumped. Nimbly warping his body like it was a bow made of supple wood, he bent himself into the “ku” character and at the same time, swung his left hand with all his strength. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure he held the chalk in his left hand when writing on the board in class as well.

When the ball was precisely caught in the air and a hearty “bam” sound burst out, Kuroba let out a cheer. This time, it was a sharp serve that passed over the net and pierced into the other end of the opposing court. Oh. He might not be that agitated after all.

“That was amazing! You can do jump serves! I only saw those on TV.”

He imitated him by tossing up the ball in his hand and hitting it, but he didn’t feel like he could hit it like Haijima at all. Even though he praised him honestly, Haijima didn’t even look flattered in the least.

“I did nothing but this for three weeks, so I’d be in despair if I didn’t get even a little better. Also, I still can’t use it in a game unless I increase my accuracy more.”

“Only serves? Why?”

He got glared at when he asked that without thinking. He was just told by Yorimichi that his tendency for asking questions was annoying.

“It’s the only thing you can do with just one person.”

“Oh...” Kuroba was speechless after letting that out.

Haijima was doing this because he wanted to, so there was no reason for him to feel guilty, but he still did. Mopping the floor, putting up the net, warming up all by himself…then, practicing serves, using up all the balls in the cage and fetching them, and then doing serves again, all by himself…putting down the net, cleaning up, and then going home by himself. “What you’re doing seems fun.” ——It can’t be fun at all. What’s more, if he was doing it alone, then he was constantly being pressured to give up his spot by the neighboring court.

He rewound the conversation in his head and played it. “It’s still not very reassuring even if it’s twenty against two.”

He put the ball on the floor and used it like a prop to stand up.

“…I don’t have a jersey, but I can join you if you want. I came all the way here, and I don’t have any plans with Yori-chan today. I suck, though. I might not make a good practice partner. If it’s better for you to do it alone, then I won’t come again.”

While bending and stretching in place of warming up, he piled on the extra words like excuses. His ears were subconsciously prepared for another “What the hell are you doing?” When he finally did some back-bending exercises, he peeked at Haijima’s face as he got back up. No doubt, he’s looking down on me—

Haijima was looking at him with his narrow eyes opened so widely that it made him wonder if that was as far as they could go. He could see something wet at the back of his eyes—Huh, was he crying? I didn’t say anything bad, though? I was confused for a moment, but no—?

It was light. There was a feverish light glittering in his eyes, which you couldn’t feel something like temperature from as they were obstructed by the lens of his glasses. Like an elementary school boy who got excited about the moving life-sized Tyrannosaurus robot at the dinosaur museum he visited for the first time.

“Wh-what the…”

It was so different from his impression of him until now that it felt somewhat creepy.

“Wait. I’m getting my contacts.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’ve been by myself after all, so I’ve actually been slacking. Also…”

He thought Haijima had turned towards the door, but he stopped for a moment and turned back, then pointed at Kuroba’s face, who was standing in place with his enthusiasm dampened. He left with high-handed words.

“The way you warm up is no good at all. We’ll have to start over from stretching. Wait here.”

Previous || Index || Next

[unsettledink]

Kinktober Day 25

No Lies

Prompt: Makeup

Word Count: 4803

Summary: Peter’s secret, shameful little fantasy— well, it isn’t any worse than Tony’s.

If Peter wants to make him cry, Tony will be more than happy to oblige.

(humiliation, crying, self loathing, slut shaming, emotional sadism, aftercare, Peter’s trying out new things)

*

Peter tells him about it in a hushed little whisper, a confession, curled up in Tony’s arms. Doesn’t look away from Tony’s chest, like he’s ashamed, soft and stuttering.

“It’s almost more like a picture in my head than a whole action?” Peter says. “This one image: MJ looking up at me, crying, and it’s made her makeup go all messy, smudged purple and grey around her eyes like a bruise and her lipstick smeared, these dark lines down her cheek.” He shivers. “And I know— I know she’s crying because I’ve done something to hurt her, because I’ve said some awful things, really mean, untrue things. I know it and I don’t feel bad about, I feel really, uh. Really turned on.” 

He tucks himself a little closer, resting his forehead against Tony’s chest. “Sometimes,” he says in a tiny voice, muffled, “that’s it, that’s enough that I come. But not always, and the rest of it— I just. She doesn’t say no or fight, but she doesn’t like it and I do stuff anyway. I don’t— I don’t know why I think those things. What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, no,” Tony says, tipping Peter’s chin back. “Nothing’s wrong with you, baby. You’re not bad or weird or anything wrong.”

“I don’t want to hurt her!” Peter says. “I don’t even like the thought of it any other time, and it’d be awful if she cried. It doesn’t even make any sense anyway, MJ barely ever wears any makeup, especially not like that.”

“It’s not about reality, that sort of thing,” Tony tells him. “Fantasies just throw things together sometimes, stuff you didn’t think would be appealing. Anything can be hot, to someone.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Peter says. “I never would, I know she’d look at me like— I’m never going to tell her, especially not now, but I did ask her once if she’d wear some makeup for sex? I thought— maybe it was just the messiness?” He bites his lip. “She didn’t want to, and I couldn’t really explain why, so we just… didn’t. It felt bad. I kinda wish I hadn’t told you.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me. It doesn’t tend to end well, keeping those bottled up and hidden,” Tony says. “You know I like some strange stuff.”

“It’s not the same,” Peter mutters.

“It is,” Tony says, kissing Peter’s forehead. They stay curled up like that, Peter still tense under Tony’s hands. “Is— is it MJ specific?” Tony asks, carefully.

“What?”

“Do you only ever have that sort of fantasy about MJ?” Tony tries. “Or is the fact that it’s MJ what makes it hot?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Peter says. “I’ve kinda had stuff like it before I was interested in MJ, so. It’s not just her.” He’s quiet while Tony thinks. “Does that make it better or worse?” and he’s gotten all quiet and miserable sounding again. 

“Neither,” Tony says, firmly. “It just makes it easier.”

*

When Tony’s gotten everything together—when he’s thought it through, as much as he can, planned things out—he sits Peter down.

“I have… a surprise for you,” he tells Peter. “Hopefully something you’ll like. Maybe not, maybe it won’t work at all, but then again if it does—”

“Tony,” Peter says. “Go back, you’re pulling a me.” Tony snorts. 

Dumps the bag next to him on the bed between them, makeup tumbling out.  

Peter stares at it. “What—” he says, and then seems to lose his words. He touches one of the tubes of lipstick with the tip of his finger.

“It won’t bite,” Tony says, which gets him a glare. “So, you said this wasn’t MJ specific, right?”

“It— what?” Peter says. “Are you— you’d wear it? For me? For this crazy thing? Seriously, that’s not— uh.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve worn it,” Tony says. “What?” he adds when Peter frowns at him. “It was the eighties, okay? Everyone was doing it. It’s more that I don’t know if it will work for you if it’s me.”

“It would work,” Peter says, dazedly, which is a great sign. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I can’t— how would I even make you cry, I don’t want to say those things to you! Even if they didn’t work on you, cause why would they? You’re all—” and he waves his hands, like that’s supposed to mean something.

“All that?” Tony says, grinning.

“Ugh, I mean, all put together and confident and stuff,” Peter says, and he should know by now how much of that is surface level. 

“You could make me cry,” Tony tells him. “Wouldn’t even have to be that mean, just hit certain spots the right way. And it helps if I’m sort of… in the right mindset. It’s—” Okay, he hasn’t brought this up with Peter yet, because Peter hasn’t really shown much interest in this sort of thing aside from this one little fantasy. 

“I don’t mind being treated like that,” Tony says. “Under the right circumstances, I can even, well. Like it. Or, not like it, but enjoy it. Get off to it, at least.” Peter’s staring at him, wide eyed. “You’re not the only freak here,” Tony says.

“You’re not a freak,” Peter says immediately. “But— really? You could? You do?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “I can tell you what would work best for the… intended effect, on me. And if that isn’t working, you can always get some tears out of me with a good face fucking.”

Peter blushes, but Tony knows he would like that. Both of them would. 

“We won’t mess around with any sort of consent stuff, okay?” Tony says. “If I say stop or no or anything like that, you can be sure it means exactly that. I don’t want you worrying about that for this. Not this time.” Peter nods, because they’ve talked about this, vaguely, before. 

“Just—” Tony hesitates, because this is the only part he’s not sure of. He doesn’t want to freak Peter out. “If it works really well, I might take a while to stop, even after you have? I can get… overwrought. Get so caught up it’s not easy to snap out of it and stop feeling like that. Do you understand that?”

“I think so,” Peter says. “I need to be patient?”

“Yeah, but as much— don’t freak out and start thinking you’ve done something wrong, or broken me. All I need is time and something to cling to and it’ll pass.” 

“Okay,” Peter says. “I think I can do that.” 

Tony gestures at the makeup spread out between them. “Then why don’t you pick out a few things.” 

*

Peter just stares when Tony comes out of the bathroom. 

Stares and stares and stares, completely frozen. “I know I look good,” Tony says, “but come on kid, don’t you want to do something about it?”

“I— oh my god, Tony,” Peter says, almost a whisper, shocked. “You— you look really—”

Tony walks up to him while he’s still stammering his way through that; kisses him on the cheek, leaving a perfect red lip print. “I look really what?”

Peter swallows. “Really hot,” he says, finally. “You look really, really hot. Way better than I imagined.” 

“So it’s working for you?”

“Yes,” Peter says, nodding. “So working.” 

“Okay, baby,” Tony tells him, “you know what you want, and you know what I will take.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asks yet again. “Completely sure?”

“Completely sure,” Tony says, and sinks down on his knees. “Make me cry.”

“Oh god,” Peter whispers. He touches Tony’s face gently, his fingers trailing over his cheeks, the faint blush tinting them; across his eyelids, the dark purple black smokey eye Tony spent longer than he should have on; slowly catching his lips, dragging the bottom one down, the cheap dark red probably already smearing.

Peter kisses him, a soft touch. Pulls back and makes a face. “Ick,” he says. “Tastes gross.”

Tony mock pouts, a little teasing. “You don’t like it?”

There’s a hesitation, Peter’s hand coming back to press against Tony’s lips. “No,” he says, and it’s still a lot uncertain, worried. “I— I don’t. It makes you look like a joke. Like a— a freak.”

It’s amazing how hard that hits Tony, even though he expected every word. Even though he knows Peter doesn’t mean a syllable of it. He still feels his face heat, and the smile drops off his face. “It does?” he says.

Peter’s hand is still on his face; he’s tense, nervous, and his grip is a little too tight. “It makes you look like a whore,” he says, looking almost shocked at himself for saying it. He presses his thumb hard against Tony’s lips, rubbing it over them. “A cheap one,” Peter says. “The kind that you don’t even have to pay because they’d do it all for free. You’d— you’d do it all free, every single gross, filthy, obscene thing I could think of. Wouldn’t you?”

It’s as much the dull pain of Peter’s hand as the words that make Tony’s eyes sting, the corners a little wet. But the words— “I would,” Tony says, quietly, staring up at Peter. 

“You’re a slut,” Peter says, and Tony shudders. Peter jolts, pulling his hand from Tony’s chin and looking down at him, trying to figure it out. It was a good shudder, as good as it could be from being called a name like that, but Peter probably doesn’t quite believe it even though Tony told him. “It’s disgusting,” Peter says, carefully, watching him.

And a moment later, soft and startled; “Oh.” 

Peter tips Tony’s head back and looks down his body instead. “You’re hard,” he says. “You— you really do like this,” and it’s still soft, surprised. “You like me calling you a slut,” he says.

Tony drops his eyes, feeling that first flutter of shame in his stomach. “Oh,” Peter says again. “You like it,” and it’s sharp this time, twisted into something unkind, in a way he wasn’t sure Peter could do.

“Peter,” Tony whispers.

“That’s— you’re disgusting,” Peter says. “You know that, right? Under everything, you’re just a nasty whore.”

Tony sucks in a breath, his chest tight, his cock twitching. Holy shit, he didn’t think Peter really had it in him. 

He doesn’t look up, but Peter’s hand is on his face, forcing him to. “Say it,” Peter says, a little softer. “Tell me that you know it’s true.” He rubs his thumb over Tony’s lips, onto his cheek; Tony can feel the lipstick smearing, the stiff tackiness of it on his skin. 

“I know it,” Tony says. “I know I’m just— just a whore,” and there’s some truth to it, under everything. All he has, is, has been for sale at one point or another. That sick feeling spreads, grows.

Peter’s silent for a moment, spreading the lipstick further. “It’s the only reason anyone wants you,” he says, distantly, cool. “You’re only good for sex, aren’t you.”

It hits, hard, and even though Tony told Peter to say it like that, to tell him no one wanted him, it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels that shame rise, squirmy. “I’m good at other things,” he whispers.

“Are you really?” Peter says. “Are you good enough at any of those things for people to want you?” and the answer is no, Tony knows it’s no. He holds his breath, fighting back the start of tears. “Maybe they want your money,” Peter adds, “or your name, or the things you make for them, but you’re useless for anything else. They don’t want you. I mean, look at you,” so sharp and disappointed that it does it, it sends Tony hurtling into that awful sick feeling, feeling it close around him. 

“Oh,” Peter says, and then both his hands are on Tony’s face, cupping his cheeks. Brushing at the first tears slipping down his cheeks, probably not enough to make anything run yet. “Look at you,” softer but still mocking. “Look at how easily you cry, over just a few words. Just a little name calling. Just because no one wants you.”

They come faster, because Tony knows there’s some truth to it. No one wants him, wants whatever is hiding behind the Tony Stark™ that he wraps around himself every day, just like the Iron Man armor. 

“No one wants you,” Peter says. “Look at me!” Tony opens his eyes, tears sticking his eyelashes together, melting the mascara. “No one wants you,” Peter repeats, looking straight at him, into him, laid bare. “If you could see yourself, you’d know it’s true. Who would want that?”

“No one’s going to love you,” he adds, thumbs rubbing over Tony’s cheeks, coming away with pale shimmer on them. ‘Everyone knows you don’t deserve it. Look at all the things you’ve done— who could ever forgive you for that?” 

Tony moans, his eyes closing again, and god, he is sick, isn’t he, that this has him wanting to curl up and sob, has him wanting to grab his cock and get off right this second. “Please,” he gasps.

“Please what?” Peter says. “Please want you? Love you? Forgive you? Why should I?” Tony shakes his head, frantically, and reaches for his cock. “Oh, I see,” Peter says. “Please let you touch yourself, like the sick freak you are for getting off on this? Uh, no. Ew. You’re pathetic.”

“Peter,” Tony says, “baby, I—”

Peter leans down, his face close to Tony’s and Tony stares at him, blurred with tears. “You are pathetic,” he says. “Just a sad old man that’s desperate enough to hit on a teenager, like some sort of creep. Hoping that maybe I’d be stupid enough to love you when no one else would.”

God, it’s true; it’s everything he’s denied when it’s an accusation thrown at him, but like this? The simple fact of it stated so simply? “You’re right,” Tony says, “you’re right, you are, I’m pathetic.”

“That’s right,” Peter agrees, sounding almost breathless. He brushes the backs of his fingers under Tony’s eye, pulls them away with black smeared across them. “What a mess you are. Finally the outside matches the inside.” 

“Peter, Peter please,” Tony whispers. “I’m good at something, you said I’m good at something, let me do that for you.”

“I don’t know if I want something as disgusting as you anywhere near me,” Peter says, and Tony could almost believe it. Almost does, because that’s a thought that runs this his head every day; how could Peter want this for real?

“Please, let me try,” Tony says. “Let me, I want— I’m not good for anything else, you said it. Use me for what I can do, anything I can do.”

Peter shoves his leg between Tony’s knees, his shin bumping into Tony’s cock. Tony jerks at the touch, gasps. “If you like it so much,” Peter says, “then you should find it easy to rub off on me like this, like some sort of mindless animal.”

“Oh god,” Tony manages, and Peter’s hand is in his hair, tugging back his head. Peter’s cock is at his mouth, against his lips and sliding in so easily when Tony parts them. Finally, he thinks, finally, he can show Peter he’s good at something, he’s worth keeping around. 

Peter thrusts into his mouth, a few short strokes, and then shoves Tony down on it as far as he can. 

Tony chokes almost instantly, gagging hard around the width of him, eyes tearing up even more. Gasps wetly when Peter withdraws, and then moans and gags again a second later. Peter’s not giving him a chance to adjust, to relax enough for this to be easy, just keeps fucking deep into Tony’s throat and waiting for him to gag before he stops holding him in place. 

“Is this what you call good?” Peter says. He holds Tony on his cock longer that time, long enough Tony starts fighting it, choking and gagging so hard he’s afraid he might throw up. Lets Tony go, finally, Tony jerking back hard enough he almost goes over. “Is it?” Peter asks. “Because it seemed more like you were too busy rubbing off on me to focus on the more important part of this.” 

Shit, he had, at least somewhat, without even realizing it; Peter’s leg is wet with precome.

“So you’re not even good at that,” Peter says. “There really isn’t anything you have to offer,” and he pulls his cock all the way out of Tony’s mouth, stroking it. 

“Please,” Tony says, “I can do better, I can, please let me.”

“Beg harder,” Peter says.

Tony does, he tries, watching Peter jerk himself off as Tony begs to be able to suck him again, to offer him anything; tells Peter he could fuck Tony, could use him, could hurt him, anything at all. 

“The only thing you’re good for is looking at,” Peter says, “shit, Tony— I’m— oh,” and he’s coming, Tony jerking and closing his eyes as it hits his face, hot and thick over the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks, on his eyelashes. 

“Oh my god,” Peter says after a moment, a sharp slide from the tone he's been using. “Uh— fuck. You— finish off, finish getting off on me like that. I want to see you come looking all messed up, come just from rubbing off; I thought I was the horny teenager here, but you’re a slut.”

It’s not hard, it’s not hard at all to rut against Peter’s leg and come as fast as he can, not if he thinks about how Peter must be looking at him, at what he must be seeing, everything smeared and running and come on Tony’s face and tears— and Peter had said he was good for looking at, had said that and now he was looking, christ. 

He jerks, folding forward as he comes hard enough for his head to smack into Peter’s hip, getting his mess all over Peter. Peter pushes his head back, ignoring the way Tony’s still shivering, hips moving. “I want to see you,” he says, catching Tony’s neck, holding him there. Tony shivers, a sharp spike through his head at it; he doesn’t want, doesn’t like Peter’s hand there, doesn’t— 

Peter’s hand shifts, sliding more to cup his face, and Tony leans into it. Keeps his eyes closed as Peter tilts his head up, getting a better look probably. He feels cold, a little numb even, but those things aren’t really related. There’s a deep black blankness in his head, a hollow space that could be filled with anything at all; little whispers of thoughts skittering across it. 

Thoughts that he is everything Peter said. Who’s he really kidding, pretending as hard as he can that he’s redeemable, that he can make up for the things he’s done by saving a few people, doing a little good? Everything he attempts is immediately outweighed by the next disaster on his head. Everything he touches ends up twisted, ends up hurting people before he can make it stop. 

No one wants him, and he knows that’s too true. Has seen what happens when he stops trying, the silence that becomes the default, people just grateful he’s gone. Has seen that they’re better off without him around. Not Peter, some part of his head tries to insist. Peter’s not like that. 

Because Peter’s able to love anyone, he thinks, even someone like me, and that’s not a good thing. 

And— it’s true that he used to be good at sex, able to offer that at least, but he’s getting old. He’s getting older by the minute, and more tired, and what he has to offer now isn’t a piece on what he used to. 

Peter’s hands move on his face; when Tony cracks his eyes open, he finds Peter on his level, kneeling in front of him and staring. He’s still flushed, still looking a little dazed. “Holy shit, Tony,” Peter says, trailing his fingers along Tony’s face, through the mess, the tears still dripping down Tony’s cheeks. “That was insane, you look amazing,” and his voice is softer, higher, back to the way he normally sounds after sex. Not that flat, distant way he’d been talking to Tony. 

“That was so much better—hotter—than anything I could have imagined,” Peter whispers. Traces Tony’s lips, his hand dropping to rest under Tony’s chin, and kisses him. It’s soft, gentle; Tony doesn’t deserve that sort of thing, but he closes his eyes again and leans into it. It’s almost too much when Peter kisses him again and again, all along his jaw and his cheek, the tip of his nose, feather light on his eyelids. 

Peter sighs after a while, pulling back. “I guess we’d better get you cleaned up,” he says. “Uh— can you like, get up and walk around and stuff?” Tony nods and lets Peter pull him up, opening his eyes just enough to keep from running into anything as Peter tugs him along. 

He leans against the counter once they’re there, pressing his hands flat against it and trying to gather himself together while Peter does something over there, digging around. He can’t stop crying, this stupid, helpless sort of crying, nearly silent but choking him all the same, tears just dripping from his face constantly. It’s pathetic. He looks up, and— and sees himself. 

The mirror doesn’t lie, he thinks. He really is pathetic. Look at him. Red eyed and red faced, come spattered across his cheek and nose and brow. The shadow around his eyes has spread, diffused and smudged until it looks like he has two black eyes, and the mascara has run all down his cheeks, grey streaks that are rubbed away at points, where Peter’s wiped them away. His lips would have been red regardless, darkened just from the blowjob, but the lipstick makes it more obscene, the way it’s smeared, like a streak of blood along his chin and jaw. 

And all of it cut through with tear tracks, wet and messy and gross, he’s so fucking gross, god. 

“Here,” Peter says, “let’s just— Tony? Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck. He has— he has to pull it together. Has to not freak Peter out, not make Peter think he did something wrong; Tony told him, told him to say no one wanted Tony, that he wasn’t good for anything, he told him to. 

Peter hops up on the counter next to him, his legs swinging. “Tony,” he says, and Tony looks over at him. He doesn’t know what to say. It doesn’t seem to matter; Peter pulls at him gently until Tony takes a few steps to the side, until he’s between Peter’s legs. One of them hooks behind Tony, heel catching on the back of his thigh and holding him in place. 

“You were so hot like that,” Peter says, tilting Tony’s head up. He’s got a washcloth that’s warm and soft and feels ridiculously good when he wipes at Tony’s face. “I was kind of worried I wouldn’t like it? Or it would feel weird? Or— or I’d feel bad, feel too bad and not be able to do it.” He dabs the corner of it around Tony’s eyes, delicate. “But I didn’t, I— you liked it, I could actually tell you liked it and that was crazy hot, that made me feel so good— that I could make you feel good saying those things, doing those things was just. I don’t even know, Tony.”

He leans over to rinse out the washcloth, rewet it, and Tony puts his hands on Peter’s thighs. Peter looks at him, a stutter of a pause. Wipes Tony’s mouth, all that red gone, and kisses him. He kisses Tony like it’s all he wants in the world, slow, soft little kisses that go deeper, go hungry before Peter gentles them again. Tony leans into it, helplessly, wanting. 

“You’re still crying,” Peter says, softly. Tony nods. “I know, you said it’s okay,” Peter says, “but— it is?”

Tony nods again, unable to explain more right this second. He feels sick and hollowed out, and he doesn’t hate it. He folds, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder and curling as close to him as he can, starting to shudder as the tears come faster, harder. 

“Oh,” Peter says, “oh god, Tony—” His arms come up around Tony, holding him tightly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, this is— we’re okay. It’s okay if you need this, just… um, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Shit shit shit— he’s asking a lot from Peter here, he tried to warn Peter but this, he’s not prepared for this. “Sorry,” he manages, just a whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter says. “Please don’t be sorry, cause then I’ll have to be sorry and neither of us need to be, right?” He turns his head a little, kissing Tony’s neck. “You made this not something I need to feel sorry for, I think? I don’t feel as much like a bad person as I thought I would, so— so you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I don’t mind you crying. I mean, I mind it cause I don’t really want to make you cry, but it’s okay if you do. And you said you would so…”

He trails off, and yeah, that’s Peter, that’s Peter right down to the core, he knows Peter.

“You know what,” Peter says. “This is not the best place for this. Here, just let me—” He tips Tony back, sliding off the counter. Gets a hand around Tony’s waist and one under his ass and lifts him up like it’s nothing, Tony grabbing at Peter’s shoulders. Jesus, that’s hot. 

Peter takes him to bed. Dumps him in it and crawls in after him, curling up with Tony tucked close. “This is better,” he says. “Totally better. Right?”

Tony nods. The tears are slowing a little, and that blankness is starting to fade around the edges, leaving him exhausted more than anything. He wants to hold onto Peter and hide and sleep for a week. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Peter says. He’s got one hand in Tony’s hair, smoothing through it gently. “I can’t believe you made that happen for me,” he says. “You turned it into something even better and I— I can’t even start to thank you enough for that, Tony. It’s crazy how you keep making things happen for me.”

Maybe he’s not just good for sex. “Good for something, then,” he mumbles— fuck, no, he knows that’s not all he’s good for. He does.

“Good for a lot of things,” Peter says. “Uh. Hey, you know— you know I didn’t really mean any of that, don’t you? Like one hundred thousand percent don’t actually think any of those things. It’s all bullshit, that you can’t be redeemed or wanted or loved.” He touches Tony’s cheek, soft, following a tear track down. “I love you.”

The other times he’s done this, most of them said something like that. Not all of them; he’d made the mistake of trying it with a few people who really did believe every horrible thing they said about Tony. He’d thought maybe that would be better, more real, but it was worse. But most of them have tried to reassure him after that they didn’t really mean it. 

Most of them—okay, all of them—he hadn’t quite ever believed. Maybe they didn’t mean everything they said, maybe they only believed one tiny part of it, but Tony knows he’s an aching void underneath it all. People know, they see when you play like that. 

“You know,” he tells Peter. “I’ve done this before, the humiliation part at least. And I always wondered, after, how much they meant. How much they believed, regardless of what they said. But— god, Peter. I believe you.”

“Good,” Peter says, fiercely. “Because it’s true.”

“I know,” Tony says, and he does. He actually does. “It’s— different, doing it with someone you know it’s all words for. With someone I trust as much as I apparently trust you. You— you say it different.”

“Tony—”

“Shhh,” Tony says. “It’s not something to really talk about now; I’m still too fucked up to say things right. Tomorrow, alright?”

Peter slides closer, tangling his legs with Tony’s, and kisses him. “Alright,” he says after. “Later.” Lets Tony burrow against him and settle, drift, completely safe for once. 

“You really are insanely hot when you’re messy and crying though,” Peter whispers after a bit, and Tony— Tony believes that too. 

He thinks he’d believe anything Peter told him.

[ifeedhimimmobile]

Hi. I need to talk about some things...

I thought I’d take a little bit to talk about why I left.  A lot of it was due to mental health so buckle up.

When I returned the first couple times, I got a lot of messages I didn’t like. I feel like the most obvious of those are dick pictures because how much I talked about not liking them on my blog. Those didn’t bother me as much because I could get rid of them with a simple block; however, I feel like it’s time for me to open about some of the other ones because I don’t think I’ve talked about them before. I’ve received many messages that were people trying to bully me into being their feeder. I got a lot of messages on the lines of:  “I don’t think your feedee is gaining fast enough. You say he has *insert a health issue here* and that’s preventing you from making him gain faster. Why don’t you just dump him and make me fatter instead?” Most of the time, I just ignored those people or tried to change the subject, but I’m fucking tired of it now. Why the hell would anyone try to stoop so fucking low to pick out every assumed flaw of my relationship and try to convince me to break up my relationship of ..what...almost 5 years now?...just because they think they can just prance in and get with me by trying to trash talk the feedee side of my man. I have talked many times on my blog about wanting to propose to my feedee. I have a lot of things in common with him, love his personality, and will care for him to the best of my ability, even if that means putting our fetish on the back burner so he can get better. Maybe I’m not a “real feeder” for doing that because I’m not shoving gainer shake down his throat despite him talking about being in so much pain that we might have to go to the ER. And I’m sorry if anyone that follows me feels that way about the situation. I’d rather take it slow, help him get better in between gaining instead of rushing in, having him in pain the entire time and he only lives to see 400 lb. I’m mostly saying this to the people that have tried to make me break up with my feedee. There were many friends I left on this site that were understanding of it all and I regret going silent for so long to those people because of the assholes that DMed me. I tried advertise my discord server here to let some of those people still interact with me, but as those assholes crept in and immediately flooded my DMs on discord also I decided it was best to stop reblogging the link because I was on the verge of leaving the Feederism community completely. --This is where I need to insert a warning because ED and self-harming topics ahead-- I also had issues with my self-esteem. Around the time I left, there were a few images that kept circling were as the feedee gets fatter, the feeder gets dangerously thin. It hit me hard and I started having eating disorder thoughts again and I started to self-harm more. My feedee saw me self-harm and he’d make me promise to not do it again and I would...but some nights I’d go off in another room while he was sleeping and do it anyway and try to hide it from him until either he would notice or I’d cave in and admit what I was doing. I’d self-harm for many reasons, mostly revolving around those images I mentioned, hurtful DMs revolving around how fat I was getting despite me being the feeder, or the other DMs I mentioned earlier. I didn’t want to let my ED take hold, so I used self-harming to try to cope because in my mind that was a “healthier” way to cope with it all; which it absolutely isn’t. I felt like I wasn’t worthy to be a feeder and I wasn’t good enough or sexy enough. I’d binge eat in guilt and instead of throwing up, like I used to do, I’d self-harm instead. It was nasty. I didn’t tell my boyfriend until around a little over a month ago I was having ED thoughts again because it started to impact me so much that I was wanting to throw up after every meal but would stop myself from doing it because I didn’t want to get into that cycle again. Then it turned into I didn’t enjoy going out with him on the occasional date that involved food because I didn’t want to feel guilty for eating. I’d eat very little, come up with excuses over it. I started skipping meals when he was at work so he wouldn’t see what I was doing to myself. I don’t particularly hate my body anymore but the food eating guilt is still there. On a brighter side, I have stopped self-harming for a few months so I don’t use that to cope anymore.  --- Where am I now, you might be asking? Will I return completely this time? I don’t know. As I mentioned before, those messages kept me away as well as some of the stuff mentioned in the warning section.  I moved. It was sudden and forceful. I work full-time now at a shitty job McDonald’s. I’m probably going to be quitting Starbucks because they aren’t liking how long my absence has been due to having to move so suddenly. I’m just looking forward to moving away from this place we’ve moved temporarily so I can focus on getting a better job until me and my feedee work on opening the cyber cafe we’ve been planning on opening. I also don’t know if I’ll fully return because I run a pretty big discord server and I’ve been trying to make sure I’m more active in it instead of just lurking and doing admin type jobs. Besides those life updates, still have a cat, I update with pictures of my feedee sometimes on my server, and right when I was making plans to schedule a vacation for the bf proposal covid crashed in and ruined my plans. But life goes on.  Feel free to send asks about anything. I’ll answer. 

[yupitsfinnhudson]

Daddy Squared

Who: Alexis St. James and Finn Hudson - @alexis-st-james ft Freddie and Brando St James

When: 23rd of December 2020

Where: The St James house in Sunny California

What: Finn meets Alexis’ Dads and sees her room.

Warnings: None? The St James Dads being obnoxious

Finn was looking a little bit pale in the back seat of the car worrying about meeting Alexis’ Dads. He knew they weren’t together but he still really wanted to make a good impression on them, and to make sure that Alexis had a good time if possible. He knew that she didn’t really like visiting her family, so he gave her his best smile. “Ready Miss?” He asked. “I think all the gifts will just about fit through the door.” It wasn't something she would have normally done, but Alexis knew her dads well enough that the 'joke' about dragging her for some canapes on Christmas wasn't really them teasing at all, and sometimes it was easier to just accept than to argue about it and cause more issues. But she still felt sick, the only comfort she had was Finn next to her. They finally pulled up to the house, and she let out a small smile. "As I'll ever be. They're magpies, hopefully the shiny stuff will keep them distracted from personal questions." She said, getting out and grabbing a couple of bags. Staying here for a couple of nights, from the 23rd to Christmas Eve, meant they had their overnight bags, as well as gifts for her fathers of both her and Felix, as well as things for the staff, cats, dogs and anything else currently living in the home. She knew Finn would insist to the driver to carry the load, which he really shouldn't, but she didn't concern herself with that just yet, just pushing open the large front door and letting herself into the modern architecture nightmare of her childhood home, the entrance hall covered in various greeting cards from friends and neighbours of her dads. "Just dump things there, the housekeeper will sort it out," She instructed to Finn where her own bags lay. "You still have time to run, you know." Finn nodded at her words. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to.” The boy responded, reaching out to squeeze her hand and give her a smile. “I’ll be there the whole time I promise!” He told her, and then blushed because obviously she knew that. It wasn’t like he was going to drop her off at her Dads and then leave. He hid his embarrassment as he got out of the car by grabbing the majority of their bags out of the car. The house itself was extremely impressive, and he couldn’t help but be a bit wide eyed as he made his way up the drive. “Oh.. wow.” He said quietly mostly to himself. He nodded a little when she said that he could dump the bag. “Are you sure.. you don’t want me to take them up the stairs?” He asked gazing guilty at their things. “I don’t want to run Miss.. I want to meet your family.” Alexis nodded as enthusiastically as she could, though Finn was really underestimating her dads and their interrogation techniques. She watched with interest as Finn entered the house for the first time, knowing he was trying to keep his cool about the way it looked, but was excited to be here. She resisted rolling her eyes at his offer. "Finn, that's their job," She said, cringing at how suddenly elitist she sounded, "We have staff to do that for us, we pay them for that. You're a guest, your job is to relax." She then added, hoping that sounded a little better, knowing it probably done. His sincerity in wanting to meet her family almost made her want to jump him right there and then, but instead she just smiled. "Well, brace yourself," She teased, "They're probably out at the pool, but I'll give you a quick tour until we get to them. This is, uh, the entrance hall. And I'm sure they buy a majority of these cards and write them out themselves to look popular," She added as a joke, "but like it's where we put our coats and bags and shoes and the staff neatly put them away. Would you like to see the kitchen, we can get ourselves a drink?" Finn blushed bright red when she told that it was the people’s job. “Sorry.” He said sheepishly. “I just wanted to be helpful.” He explained not wanting to seem like a total dunce, quickly trying to get away from the bags like they had a bad smell about them. He went to hold her hand and then stopped himself because he wasn’t sure. “Oh I’d really like a tour! I’m looking forward to seeing everything!” Finn told her, gazing around at the house his eyes going very wide at the sight of all the cards. “Who are they all from?” He asked inspecting the cards with excitement. He took off his shoes immediately when she mentioned that this was where they put their shoes. Thinking of Caroles new carpets and how important it was that they stay nice. “I would really like to see the kitchen.. Do you have one of those fridges that gives you ice cubes?” Finn asked. "I know," Alexis said softly, though the feeling of taking him against the glass and marble walls hadn't faded quickly. "A tour you shall get." She promised instead. "Uh, just our neighbours, friends and stuff. Will Ferrell," She said, picking up a card with a frown on her face, "Terrible taste," She put it back before picking up a few more. "Reese Witherspoon and family, Kris Kardashian...oh, Bruce Willis sent this one." She said, waving it in front of Finn for a second, momentarily forgetting about his interest in the actor. She smirked at him removing his shoes, her own heeled boots staying firmly on her feet, "Yes, we have one of those ice cubes. Stay being good for me, and I might let you push the button all by yourself." She teased, leading him through the open plan area. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if she knew that it wasn’t normal to just like have a Christmas card from a random A Lister in your house. Once his family had gotten a card from the local radio station after he’d entered a contest and they’d be so over excited that they’d all taken a picture with it. When she waved the Bruce Willis card, Finns eyes went very wide again and he started to shuffle over to the thing as if it were some kind of precious jewel. “The real Bruce Willis?” He asked, inspecting the signature on the inside of the card. “Like Die Hard.. and Looper Bruce Willis?” Finn nodded excitedly at the idea of getting to do his own ice cubes. “I’ll be very good Miss Alexis... does it have more than one setting?” He asked, following after her like an eager puppy. She laughed at his wide-eyed enthusiasm. "Do you know of any other Bruce Willis'?" She asked rhetorically. It was strange, being back home....well, her childhood house. It was weird to even think that this open plan space with glass, marble and harsh corners was somewhere to raise your kids. Maybe it was partly the reason her, Felix and Jesse never had much of a childhood. "I think so? Definitely a crushed ice setting, but I don't know about anything else." Alexis paused as they entered the kitchen, hearing eager footsteps come in from the patio.

"Lex!" Freddie announced, charming Hollywood smile on his face, water glistening of his bare chest, tight swim trunks being the only thing to cover his modesty. "We are so glad you came!"

"Lexi!" Brando had come jogging in then, still a handsome man despite the years of the rich and famous party lifestyle. "Look at you! More and more gorgeous everyday, don't even need to go under the knife like that wretch of a mother of yours!" He and Freddie laughed, Alexis stood there with a tight smile on her face. "Is it true Felix is in the Swiss Alps this year....stuck in with the Motta heir too?"

"It'll be really good if they end up together," Freddie agreed, reaching for a bottle of water, "I think it'll wipe whatever evil smirk is off your mom's face as well...oh." He paused, as if noticing Finn for the first time, and Alexis fought every instinct to grab his hand and run upstairs with him. "This must be your guest."

"Yes," Alexis finally said, "Frederick, Brennan," She said, addressing them with their full, real names, "This is Finn Hudson. A friend of mine, he'll be spending this evening with us." Finn was still thinking very deeply about the ice when the two men appeared, they were like something out a movie. Like Alexis he almost didn’t believe that they existed in the real world. They screamed the Hollywood movies that he had loved so much as a kid, and the red carpets that Odette poured over and he felt shyer than ever. Knowing from years of experience on both he and Sawyers part that he could hardly hide himself he simply moved behind Alexis a little. Afraid that anything that he said would make him sound as small town and unremarkable as he felt in this grand house standing next to all these beautiful people. He could imagine Fauna here with her cheerleader smile and long extensions, or Sawyer who always had something intelligent to say. But he.. he didn’t feel like he belonged at all.  He didn’t know what a regular Alp was, let alone what made them Swiss.

He felt their eyes turn to him and he flushed trying not to swallow. “Hi Sir... Sir.” He said dryly. “You have a really nice house.. thank you for letting me come over.” His words came out thickly and he flushed an even deeper shade of red. All Alexis wanted to do was shield Finn away, take him upstairs and just vibe and do nothing. Instead, she just watched carefully as her dads drank Finn in, and she made herself stand just slightly taller, as if to hide him. Freddie grinned at Finn's introduction. "Of course, a friend of Lex's is a friend of ours." He said, "Are you two planning on joining us in the pool?"

"It really is a wonderful day for a dip," Brando agreed, "You both look so hot and flustered, you especially, Mr. Hudson." He pointed directly to Finn as he leaned on the counter.

"We've literally just got here," Alexis said, "can we have a moment to fucking breathe, maybe?" It was possibly the most LA she sounded in front of Finn, her nasty streak she had been trying to hide leaping out the moment she laid eyes on her dad. "We're going to have a drink and I'm giving him a tour." She then added, with a careful smile.

"Lex has always had quite the temper," Freddie said with a laugh to Finn, "if you're in luck, either me or Brando will piss her off so much we end up plunged in the pool!" He observed Alexis, who clearly bristled under his gaze. "So much like her mother, sometimes. And Felix is like me, of course." He added, glancing at Brando for confirmation, who nodded whole-heartedly. "And Jess...Jesse...the pool boy?"

"Definitely the pool boy," Brando agreed, "Very cocky. So, Lex, shall we get our mixologist to make some signature St. James Cocktails. Finn, you drink right? You're a drinker?" He asked, as if implying he knew something about the Hudson family. Finn was surprised by the immediate invitation to join them in the pool, he hoped that it meant that he’d made a good impression by the way that he was standing alone. Blinking a little bit when they said they looked hot and bothered, hoping that wasn’t like Hollywood code for calling him smelly and trying to subtly sniff himself to see if he needed to sneak off to put some spray on. “We don’t have our swimming costumes on right now.” He explained as if trying to make them understand why Alexis wouldn’t want to go in the pool. His eyebrows shot up at a little when they mentioned that Alexis might push them in, and then laughed because he assumed it must be a joke. The conversation moved fast and suddenly they were talking about Alexis mother again, who he knew was kind of mean. So he didn’t really think they should be making comparisons. “I mean yeah.. I drink.. not like.. a lot. Just for fun.” He flushed uncomfortably, unsure if Brando was getting at something. “And never like if I’m taking care of Miss Alexis... just for fun.” He confirmed again. Alexis tried not to let her face soften at Finn's excuse to the decline the swimming invitation, too guarded around her fathers to show the version of her she was working on for Finn. Instead she just scoffed instead at her dads suggestions, hoping Finn knew she was somewhat just putting on a show. Doing what was best done in the Hollywood Hils - pretending. Acting. "We'll go in the pool in our own time." She answered curtly, "But sure, cocktails sound good. Surprise us." It came out more like an order than she intended to, but anything to play the part of the uninterested, bitchy daughter.

"My my, yes Miss Alexis," Brando mocked, curtseying. "You better watch out, Finn, she's a bossy boots that one." He called out before heading back out to the pool area. Alexis waited for a second, wondering if another comparison to that cunt of a woman who birthed her would follow, relieved that it didn't. Freddie stood there a moment, and she recognised the softness under his sharp features, aged by time and the unhealthy lifestyle that came with fame.

"What?" She barked at him. Freddie held his hands up in surrender.

"Nothing, hon-- Lex," He said, catching himself in time, glancing at Finn for a moment, before back to Alexis, who just stared him down, to answer the unasked question in the air. No, he doesn't know. Do not bring that era up, her sharp blue eyes said. "So, Finn, bet this is a massive change of scenery for you? Been up to anything fun since landing here? When I first arrived in Los Angeles, the City of Angels, the first thing I did was Hollywood Boulevard. I've been obsessed with acting since I was a kid, and I was desperate to see all the names of the greats." He laughed, it faltering when Alexis raised her eyebrows at him. "I have a habit of talking too much, probably why this one doesn't talk enough." He teased. Finn definitely felt like he was missing something from the conversation that Alexis and her Dads were having. He’d started to see a range of moods from Alexis and none of them matched up with the version he was seeing of her now. He supposed people always acted differently around their parents, but this whole conversation sort of reminded him of a sitcom and he found himself sort of waiting for the laugh track.

“Thank you Mr St James... I will um.. watch out.” Finn responded giving the man a very awkward salute. In high school he’d known exactly what to do to impress people’s Dads, you got their daughters home on time and you promised you didn’t drink and you didn’t do drugs. But now these Dads were offering him drinks, and Alexis didn’t live with them. He had no idea how he was supposed to impress. He liked when Freddie spoke, he knew better what to do with this enthusiastic talk. “It’s a big change of scenery for sure Sir.. I’m from Ohio so it’s less like stars and more corn fields. I really wanted to see all the stuff from Die Hard and like the sights..” He explained. “Miss Alexis said.. you auditioned for Die Hard and I think that’s pretty much the coolest thing I ever heard in my whole life. It’s an honour to meet you on two accounts... I also.. um talk.” He looked at Alexis nervous hoping he wasn’t saying the wrong thing. Alexis was conflicted in watching Freddie and Finn interact. A part of her wanted to claw her dad's face off for being soo slimingly charismatic, for managing to put Finn under his spell so easily, but another part of her was happy that they were getting along. That Finn was being his sweet self, and Freddie was actually putting the effort in. She hated her complicated feelings towards her parents, thinking back to when she met Carole, and how normal her interactions with her kids and step-kids seemed, a far cry to what was currently happening in the kitchen. She nodded as enthusiastically when Finn looked back at her, as if asking permission. "Between you two, will Brennan and I ever get a word in at the dinner table?" She joked, wondering if she forced herself to look like she was at ease, it'd put Finn to ease.

"You know he hates his given name, Lex. Ugh, I remember when you were like this big," Freddie dropped his hands to his hips, "Daddy this, Daddy that, I missed that. But yes, Finn, I auditioned but sadly no match for Bruce Willis. But they've been other parts, and I'm currently a recurring villain on that trashy Netflix show, based off the comics?" He asked the younger pair, as if it would jog his memory. "But we adore a talker in this house. But maybe you'll need to save your breath for something else?" He winked at Alexis, who wrinkled her nose in disgust. Ignoring that, she took Finn's hand.

"I'm going to show Finn the rest of the house." She said, back to monotone. "We'll come down to the pool in a minute, okay?" Finn listened attentively to the man in front of him, though a part of him was just studying to see any part of Alexis in him. He knew that she had a somewhat complicated relationship with her parents, but he was curious would he see striking similarities between the two. He didn’t really see any immediately, he also didn’t really see Alexis in the house. There was no sign of her in the white walls and weird furniture. Even though Freddie had just talked about when she was small, Finn couldn’t imagine a child here. “I bet you were so cute when you were little.” He said more to Alexis than to her Dad. “I like thinking of you with little pigtails.”

“I mean I think it’s so cool that you were even in the room Sir.. like you saw the script before anyone else.” Finn told him truthfully. “Wow on Netflix..? I watch a lot of Netflix so I’ll look out for it.” He added sincerely, though his eyes went a little wider when Freddie made what he thought might be some kind of sexual reference. “Yeah I’m really looking forward to seeing the fridge.” He chatted, and then realised that it might sound weird and busied himself staring at the top of Alexis’ head and letting her lead him on. Hoping that he hadn’t made a bad first impression. Alexis didn't want to crush Finn's expectations of her childhood, wanting to let him imagine a little girl in this ostentatious house, playing with dolls, hair up in pigtails, being a little princess people expected that Alexis St. James was in her formative years. Before she could deny the pigtails, Freddie jumped in. "Oh she looked so cute, whilst you two are....getting acquainted, I'll see if I can get the old albums out." He said, "Man I've been waiting to do this. Alexis never brings people home."

"That's enough of that," Alexis interjected, biting back a smile and laugh at Finn's eagerness for the fridge, giving him an extra second as they passed it, passed the grand art, the obnoxious Christmas tree in the centre of the house, and up the stairs to where Alexis' bedroom was. She opened the door, greeted by more white walls and marble floor, the large Queen sized bed in a soft grey duvet, the entire room as if straight out of some catalogue. It had been like this for as long as the Domme could remember, the only personal touches being her and Finn's bags on the floor. She stared at the closet, wondering if the contents of her letter was true, but decided to focus on that later. "This is my room, bathroom is through there, balcony just there." She instructed him, moving to sit on the bed, soft but unfamiliar. Finn grinned when Freddie mentioned the albums, Carole had spent enough time showing Alexis every picture of him and Sawyer covered in ice cream and in his pants that he felt like he was owed this little piece of her upbringing. “Please.. I’d really love to see Miss Alexis as a kid.” He responded, though he noted that this was one of a few times that her father had referenced that she never brought people to meet them. He continued to stare wide eyed at everything that she had to show him, barely being able to believe that houses like this existed. Let alone find a rational for why anyone would ever need any of the ugly furniture that lined the rooms.

Her room was less ugly, but it was weirdly unsatisfying. Deep down he knew that he wouldn’t find the same den of teenage and childhood comfort that she’d been able to see in his room. Because she wasn’t the type of person who liked cowboy wallpaper and checked sheets. But he had expected to find a little more of her, to be able to picture her as anything other than how she looked now. But his snooping came up with almost nothing. “It’s uh.. very roomy.” Was all he could think of to say. A part of Alexis wondered if Finn expected what most people expected when trying to figure out her teenage years. Was her room as goth as her style? Band posters hastily taped over black walls, candles and over Hollywood styled Satanic decor on her dressing table? Or maybe a more Pinterest girly Cheerleader type, school flags hung above her bed, photos pegged on fairy lights across the bare walls. Everyone was always disappointing, because her room was just boring. Beautiful but boring. It was how she always liked things, but she had more personal touches in her room at Devereux. The silk sheets still grey, yes, but only because it was a good duvet colour. But she had little soft cushions she had bought, the Kuromi stuffie Fauna bought her as a welcoming present to the school perched comfortably in the middle. Little photo frames and trinkets lined her nightstands and drawers. The LA house was completely different. “Yes, roomy,” She agreed, “are you disappointed?” Finn looked at her. “Not disappointed...” He responded not wanting her to be sad, and hoping that his face hadn’t betrayed him too completely. “Surprised... and a little um.” He looked around at the impenetrable space, with its soft greys and whites. He wanted to see her in the walls and follow her footsteps over these floorboards and he just couldn’t.  “I mean I guess a little.. I was sorta hoping your room would be a bit like my room.. and I’d sorta find out more about you. This place is like nice, very nice, like James Bonds room or something.. but I don’t know.. I don’t.. it doesn’t really feel like you.” Finn shrugged. “Well the you that I sorta know.” Despite the raised eyebrow at the mention of James Bond, Alexis' face softened when Finn explained his expectations. She never really had a space that was more of a reflection of who she was, but she wanted that now, even if it was just to show Finn something. A little thought popped into her head as he spoke, and she pushed it down for now, to discover once he was finished. "I haven't lived here in a very long time," She admitted, "Not properly. This place is a very nice house, but it's not my home. If you want, we can think of this as spending the night in an Air Bnb." She stood, cupping his cheek, momentarily forgetting their friendship pact. "I'm sorry," She said again, sincerely, "But maybe we'll make my room back in Devereux more roomy when we're back?" She suggested, patting his face gently, heading into her bathroom, smiling at the mirror. The stickers were still there, that she had collected over the years, cheerleading and love-hearts and dated quotes, decorating the reflective glass. She popped her head back out, smiling at Finn, glad that he wouldn't be too disappointed after all. "I mean, this might make it up to you?" Finn listened intently, his cheeks flushing delicately as she touched him. He knew he needed to tone down his feelings for her in case he scared her off again when he had promised to be her friend, but it was so hard when he liked her so much. “Please don’t be sorry.. it’s your room, you can keep it just how you like it.” He promised with a soft nod. “Your version of like you.. might be all this very like zen stuff.” He was used to the idea that people were in some ways more than one person, like they were different people when they were with different people and that wasn’t always a bad thing. His train of thought was interrupted by her words, and he followed her through into the bathroom. His face breaking into a smile at the stickers, this he supposed was exactly what he’d been looking for. “This is cute.” He told her with his signature goofy smile. “You should get some of these for your binders.” He teased. “Or are they all Gucci?” A version of Alexis. The cheerleader dwelled on that for a moment or two, wondering if she could imagine, or remember, a version of her who enjoyed living in here. With all this shitty furniture and interior design. Sometimes Finn surprised her with his different points of view on things, and she felt bad that she was surprised, and she wondered if she would ever not feel guilty for that day after Thanksgiving. She couldn't help but smile, her genuine, cute, soft one reserved only for people in her closest of circles, when he lit up at the stickers. "Haha," She said, rolling her eyes at his teasing but the smile didn't slip to indicate she was fine with his teasing. "I mean, you probably can get designer stickers, but nothing beats the dollar store, you know?" She said, "Maybe we'll get some before we head back to school to decorate all my binders together." She took a deep breath at how quiet and still the bathroom was for a moment, wishing they could stay here forever, when she heard someone calling their names. "You know, they're not gonna stop badgering until they get you into that pool," She said, and with a poke of his abs, added, "and I can't blame them, really, for wanting to see you shirtless." He wanted so badly to lean in and kiss her smiling lips especially when she was looking at him this softly, Finn had learned to save each and every single one when they crossed her face. Instead he just returned the expression the best that he could and then went back to staring at the mirror in front of them. "When I was a kid I was obsessed with collecting these little animal stickers that you got free in cereal, I stuck them all over the toy box in me and Sawyers room. They were those like puffy kind, used to sort of annoy Sawyer because I always stuck them at a weird angle." Finn remembered. "Yeah, I'm sure we can get some mega cool ones from like a gas station or something." He agreed, and then flushed at the idea of them wanting to see him without a shirt. "I mean I don't really know why.. everyone we've seen since we got here has had more of a beach body than me." He laughed awkwardly. Alexis couldn’t believe a mere few a months ago a part of her would have been annoyed at Finn sharing little anecdotes of his past, because now she wanted to indulge in nothing but his childhood stories, drink up the earnest look on his face, just consume herself fully. “I mean it’s the sticker law that they need to be slightly crooked,” She said with assurance, though she of course imagined Sawyer as some stuck up control freak, just younger. “Well that’s our goal, find some gas station stickers.” She said, stepping away from him to stop her punctuating her sentence with a kiss. “You have a great body, Finn,” Alexis told him, “they just like to be reminded of what it was for them like twenty years ago, that’s all.” Finn nodded feeling that was more than a fair statement. “Definitely. It gives them um character.” He decided and then bent down to look for the bag that had his swimming trunks in. Nervous as he was he wanted to make sure he found his nice swimming shorts and not something embarrassing like his ones with sharks with sunglasses. “I mean they still look pretty good now. No offence.” He told her as he located the nice red ones that Carole had bought him for college. “I do like swimming.” Finn confirmed quite seriously because he didn’t want her to think that he was complaining as he changed his bottoms. As they headed back into the main room, she couldn't help but glance over at the closet again, deciding to deal with whatever nasty surprise her mom had in store for her, later. "Yeah, they could look a lot worse, I guess." She mused, smiling softly at Finn's use of 'no offence' because he never really could say anything offensive. Especially not in this house. "Good, we have a nice pool." She said, going through her own case for her bikini. Alexis wasn't planning on swimming, but it was too hot out for her to sit around in proper clothing when everyone else was in their swimwear. "Remember, Finn, you can say no at any time to anything." She told him when they were both dressed, and she was bracing herself to open the bedroom door. "Drinks, tours, foods, anything, okay? They can be....overbearing." It wasn't the word she wanted to use, but it was the one she decided to settle on for now. Finn couldn’t stop himself from admiring her in the bikini just a little. They had after all almost had sex the other day, so she mustn’t mind that he still wanted her in the sexual sense. She looked good, good enough he had to look away for fear of visibly showing appreciation. “Okay Miss Alexis.. I’ll remember.” He promised though Finn wasn’t sure that he should say no to things. His Mom had always taught him that being polite was the most important thing. He was nervous as she opened the bedroom door though, trying to think of all the things he shouldn’t say as they made their way down to the pool. “Okay then,” She said, reaching out and taking Finn’s hand, his presence being a constant calming influence on her. She felt grounded near Finn, and no matter the state of their relationship, she knew he’d be there for her when things got shaky. She opened the door, leading Finn down the long way to the pool, sharing factoids about the house and various features the architect and her dads were proud of. She knew they would want to give Finn the tour themselves, but the petty part of herself was glad she took that from them.

“Finally!” Brando announced from where he was sprawled on his hammock, a bright, fruity drink in a novelty glass shaped like a palm tree sloshing around in his hand dangerously. “What took you two lovebirds so long?”

“Brando, behave,” Freddie lectured, “Mai Tais?” He then offered the pair, “Lex, you remember Carlos right?” The man gestured to the man at the exaggerated tiki bar. He didn’t seem that much older than Alexis or Finn, but he was muscled and tanned, with a pretty boy face. Exactly her dads’ type.

“Not really,” Alexis admitted. Freddie frowned.

“You do but it’s okay, I know you like to show off in front of your friends,” He said, turning back to Finn. “So, Finn, you’re also a Devereux student, that’s very exciting. Did your parents attend? That’s where I met Alexis’ mother. Back then it was all the upper crust, as they say.” Finn took her hand easily, and then had to stop himself from pressing a kiss against her hair. It wasn’t his place, even if he thought that it might take some of the obvious tension out of her shoulders. He wasn’t really sure what she was nervous about other than the fact that her Dads seemed to pick their furniture from a bad sc-fi movie set. They’d both seemed pretty nice to him, especially Freddie. He listened along to the talk that Alexis was giving him before giving both of her Dads a wave as they arrived at the pool. At the offer of the drink he smiled cheerfully. “Thank you Sir! You have really cool cups!” He said honestly really liking the whole palm tree theme.

He gave Carlos a wave too, unsure if he should introduce himself. But when Alexis said she didn’t know the other man he decided not to. Freddie’s question made him blush a little. “Yeah it’s really pretty cool there, I’d never been anywhere that had like so much sunshine before.. but I’d never been to LA either. Oh um no my parents didn’t attend, we actually got a scholarship. Fauna.. got one first and then she suggested that we apply. Me and my siblings.. and step siblings. There’s six of us.” Alexis tried to swallow down her conflicting feelings at just how much Finn was trying with her dads, and how much they had toned back their crazy. Truthfully in the last couple of years, Alexis supposed they hadn't been as insane as they had in the past, and they knew her experience in Ohio shaped things, and perhaps they felt a bit guilty for just letting her go wherever, insteading of leading her to Devereux sooner. And playing nice with her and Finn during their visit was their way of making up for it. And truthfully, she wasn't as worried about Finn now he had settled. He still looked out of place somewhat in the house, but he was standing taller, looking happier, and he did look extremely handsome in his swim-trunks, after all.

"Yeah, Sawyer and Fae are Finn's biological siblings, Evan, Odette and Kurt are his step ones." Alexis said, "Very crowded house during Thanksgiving." She teased, bumping him slightly, resiting to give him a kiss on the cheek as she took the drink from her dad, "I'm gonna go sit by the pool," She announced, finally trusting Freddie to be alone with him.

"God I always wanted a big family, poor Odette though, let's hope she's a sweet little peach, at this rate I believe all Odette's are pure evil," Freddie paused, flashing Finn a smile, "That's my ex-wife's name. Odette. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know, Alexis scarcely talks about her mom. You'd think I was the one to birth her."

"And you look great, babe." Brando agreed, pressing a kiss to his husband's mouth, coming up to the bar for a top up, "I was a scholarship student, Finn. It means you're wanted, when you're a scholarship student. Not at Devereux, I was in Arkansas and ran to LA the first chance I got. Planning on ever living out here?"

Alexis watched from where she was perched on a lounger with interest, half scared but half curious what else Freddie would reveal, and if it would scare Finn away. Probably not, but being here put her more on the cautious side. "It was nice though, her being at Thanksgiving with my family." Finn interjected his cheeks going just a little bit red, wanting her fathers to know that she'd been very welcome there and not like shunted into a corner or anything. "My Mom was really happy to have her, and obviously Fauna was too or she's a little bit like overwhelmed by all of us.. you know because she's really small.. Oh have you met Fauna?" He flushed a deeper shade of red as Alexis kissed him on the cheek and then stared at his drink for a minute to process.

"I like being in a big family, because there's lots of people to take care of everyone you know.. Odette is alright, she's a bit different from my other siblings because like.. she's more sensitive I guess. She's into violin." Finn agreed, feeling a bit bad when they brought up Alexis' Mom. He knew that she didn't really like to talk about her family at all, but of course he wasn't going to say that to Freddie. "I um.. I know her name. But yeah I don't think she likes to talk about her, but that's okay.. I don't want to make her unhappy." The submissive explained taking a long drink of the drink in his hand. "Oh cool, scholarship bros!" Finn said without thinking and then hoped that Brando didn't take it offensively. "Oh yeah.. I'd love to move out here.. it's so sunny and there's like a lot of cool things to eat." "We've met Fauna," Freddie ensured, "London, last year I think...Lex can you confirm?" He called over to where his daughter lounged. She gave him a snarky thumbs up in response. "I'm glad your parents accepted her into  the fold, though it is surprising she celebrated it this year. She's normally very anti-Holiday."

"We're honestly surprised she came home for Christmas. First time in two years maybe?" Brando questioned, staring at his husband in confusion, who shrugged. "Anyway, a violin player! How exciting! I could have been first chair in my orchestra back in school." He explained. Freddie couldn't help but snort.

"In your dreams, babe," Freddie said, bumping him. "Speaking of cool things to eat, Finn, as our guest of honour, you can pick this evening's meal. Is there anything you wanted to try that Lex hasn't showed you yet?" He glanced back over to Alexis, attempting to summon her over with a wave. She stared at him for a moment, before turning back. Whatever they needed her for, could wait five minutes. "Well, guess you're the only one choosing." He said with his trademark charismatic smile, as if not totally embarrassed by his daughter. Finn thought he knew why Alexis was anti holiday usually, but this definitely wasn’t the audience of people that you told about that. Because he was pretty sure it was less to do with the holidays themselves and more about not wanting to spend them with her family. “Well it’s hard to be anti-holiday when it’s around my family. We take everything pretty seriously, every decoration is a treasure.” Finn replied diplomatically. “That’s cool Sir.” He said, taking a drink of his drink. Unsure if he should laugh along with Freddie or take things seriously and thus chose neither, instead just giving himself more liquid courage.

“Uh... I mean I wanted to try and in and out.. but like I don’t expect you guys to want to eat that.” He said, going back on his own suggestion almost immediately after he said it. Burgers weren’t sophisticated or stylish like the house that he was standing in. “I’m sure you guys know what’s good to eat around here way better than I do.” He tried instead. “I eat basically everything so.. it’s not really a problem.” leather daddy08/02/2021 Truly it was driving Alexis mad that she couldn't quite hear the conversation a few feet away and, even though she absolutely trusted everyone involved, her curiosity had taken over and she found herself back at Finn's side, elbows grazing his. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?" She asked them, a coy smile on her face.

"Not at all Lex, refill?" Brando asked, raising his own glass at her as if emitting some type of signal. She merely nodded, it was Christmas after all.

"We're just talking about In 'n' Out, you haven't taken him there?" Freddie asked, "It's the best, truly Finn." He said, and Alexis felt her stomach churn at just how naturally well the two seemed to gel togethe.

"You want that?" She confirmed to Finn, the sharp gaze she had firmly placed on her features since arriving at the house softening, "Because we can, please don't expect us to only be eating caviar and lobster dipped in gold."

"That'd be a good course for our wedding anniversary though." Freddie chimed in with a laugh, "So, In 'n' Out? Brando, baby, will you go sort it? You've barely done anything all day."

"Yes, Sir," Brando said with a playful roll of his eyes, "Bossiness is a St. James trait, Finn. It's how they all got away with being Dominants." He joked, before heading inside momentarily.

"Come, sit with me," Alexis said, and even she could feel herself be amused at how she instantly proved her dad's point, but she really wanted to relax, and couldn't unless Finn was right by her side at all times here. Finn looked a little confused when Alexis asked if she was interrupting anything, because he really didn't know how she could interrupt when she was so clearly the star of the show. "You could never interrupt." He responded honestly. He also panicked a little when Freddie questioned her not having taken him to In And Out, he didn't want her to think she had to do anything. "Oh it's okay.. I mean I do want to eat it but like it's not a big deal." He tried to defend, feeling like he almost couldn't keep everyone happy at the same time.

The submissive nodded at the bossiness comment and then blushed, hoping that Alexis hadn't seen. Usually he might have said something about bossiness being sexy but he didn't want to call her sexy in front of her Dads because that would be weird. "Haha.." Was all he managed and then was very grateful when she suggested that he come and sit next to her, following along and plonking himself down eagerly. Alexis wondered if anything Finn thought about her had shifted, since meeting her dads, wondering if it was a bad idea to bring him at all. Their tentative friendship had just gotten back on track, and she was, admittedly, scared that bringing him here had just ruined everything. Those were the thoughts going through her mind as she observed him, the California sun bouncing off his skin, showing off a few freckles that dusted his shoulders, his long-ish hair pushed back, and she couldn't help herself from drifting towards his abs, and then his shorts, glad for the massive sunglasses she was wearing, snapping her eyes back up to his face. "You good?" She asked him, "At any point you feel uncomfortable we can just leave, if you want." Finn was just staring out at the wide landscape, marvelling at the difference from his own hometown. He'd always thought that there was something beautiful in the view of Ohio cornfields that he'd grown up with, but this was on another level that could never compete. Honestly he couldn't imagine how Alexis had ever managed to leave this behind. Her question startled him, and he looked up as though he'd been asleep for a long time, eyes wide and suddenly alert. "Oh um.. no.. I'm good.. it's nice here. Your folks are nice." He said honestly, trying to work out why she was asking him the question, did she not want him anymore, was he doing something wrong? Alexis didn't know whether to believe him when he mentioned that her parents were nice but she didn't press on it, just studied him instead. Lately she was finding it difficult to do anything but stare at him, struggling with her feelings a little bit. She wanted him, badly, in more ways than just sex, and the hopeful part of her she was letting live longer than five minutes was ensuring her when they headed back to Devereux for New Year's they'd be more than this awkward stage of friendship. "I'm glad you like it here," She told him honestly, in the soft voice she reserved for just him, that she didn't let anyone else here. She reached out to take his hand because it was the only way of touching him that seemed appropriate. "I don't think I've said thank you for agreeing to come with me." Finn watched her watching him and wondered what was on her mind, he could tell that she was trying to gage something from him but he didn’t know what. “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t, it looks like... just amazing. Like seeing so many palm trees in real life is crazy.” The football player admitted. “It’s literally no trouble at all Miss... you’ve brought me to one of the coolest places on earth and let me stay with you for Christmas.. I should be thanking you.. so um thank you!” The submissive rambled, raising his hands in an odd sort of surrender motion as he tried to wrap his head around the idea that she thought she had to thank him for coming to LA. Alexis thought about her plan for the rest of the Christmas break, what she conjured up when Finn first agreed to come with her to LA for the holiday. He was too good for her, in every way she could think of, and it wasn't the first time on this trip she thought about whether or not to go through with asking him to take things to to next level. Because she didn't deserve him, but then, as she reached out stroke his cheek, an almost subconcious action, Alexis thought that maybe she deserved to be selfish for once. "I really glad you like it here," She told him honestly, "And you really don't need to thank me, really, you're the one who came here and willingly met my dads." She said, lips twitching at the hint of a smile. Another idea popped into her head, and she sat up a bit. "Wanna go take a nap? I can get them to bring our burgers up to my room and we can eat in bed. We're going to need all the energy for their festivities later tonight, that's all." Finn still really didn't understand why she thought that she needed to thank him for coming with her, he was excited that he got to meet her parents and see where it was that she had grown up. But he didn't argue with her, instead he just nodded along with her suggestion. "A nap sounds really good right about now.. there's something about the heat out here that makes me sleepy." He agreed, standing up and offering her his hand before leading her towards that strange grey bedroom, happy that she seemed to be enjoying herself at least a little.

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: Guess Who’s Coming to the Wedding?

Okay, we’ve got past the pilot, the show has been greenlit, and it’s time for our first Dorothy-centric episode. Bea Arthur gets to flex her acting muscles, and we meet one of the show’s best recurring characters: Stan Zbornak.

Picture It...

The episode opens with Dorothy anticipating the arrival of her daughter Kate, who’s bringing along a boyfriend. When Kate arrives, she drops the bomb that she and her doctor boyfriend, Dennis, are getting married. Dorothy, while thrilled, balks at Kate’s plan to elope to the Bahamas.

DOROTHY: You are not getting married on an island by a priest wearing clamdiggers and a Harry Belafonte shirt.

Kate reminds her that the main reason she and Dennis are eloping is the animosity between Dorothy and her ex-husband Stan, who divorced her and ran off to Hawaii with a stewardess after 38 years of marriage. Dorothy offers to keep the peace with Stan in exchange for throwing Kate a wedding in Miami.

Dorothy calls Stan to invite him to the wedding, and manages to keep her cool, as when he attends he’ll be “close enough to kill.” Rose and Blanche laugh at this but swiftly realize she’s not exactly joking.

The next day, the Girls are working on wedding prep while Dorothy complains about Stan. Kate arrives with Dennis, who makes an excellent impression on Dorothy and Sophia, though they are a bit weirded out to discover his specialty is podiatry. Dorothy happily welcomes Dennis into the family and he promises Kate will never want for everything.

SOPHIA: And maybe one of your children will be a real doctor!

But the good times cannot last. The day of the wedding, Dorothy answers a ring of the bell to see Stan, and immediately slams the door in his face. Get used to me saying that, by the way.

Stan rings again and manages to cross the threshold this time. He greets the ladies and Kate, who’s in her wedding dress. He needles Dorothy enough that she loses her composure, and, when Kate and Stan leave for the church, almost refuses to attend her own daughter’s wedding. Rose and Blanche convince her to hold it together, and say they’ll keep an eye on her.

After the wedding, Stan continues to push Dorothy’s buttons. Blanche helps Dorothy keep from exploding by sacrificing the bones in her hand. Later, Sophia finds Dorothy sulking in her bedroom and tells her that, if she’s so angry at Stan, she should tell him rather than let it continue to upset her.

DOROTHY: “Anger is like a piece of shredded wheat?”

SOPHIA: You want poetry, you listen to Neil Diamond. You want good advice, you listen to your mother.

Later, after seeing Kate and Dennis off on their honeymoon, Dorothy asks to speak to Stan. Once alone with her ex-husband, she unleashes all of her frustration over his treatment of her during their divorce, ripping off his toupee to make her point. I can’t really sum it up. You have to see it to really get it (and marvel at Bea Arthur’s performance):

She ends by telling Stan goodbye, like she wasn’t able to when he walked out. Stan leaves, and the girls go to comfort Dorothy. She says she feels better, but that she does have one souvenir of their encounter: Stan’s toupee.

“Of course I’m right. You think I got this old by being stupid?”

Considering this is only the second episode, I think it’s amazing how GG immediately shows a more nuanced, complex handling of emotional issues than many other sitcoms I’ve seen. In just about every other show I’ve ever seen, Dorothy as the wronged woman would be the absolute center of sympathy and the whole show would probably be an extension of the final diatribe she gives Stan. I’m not saying that would be bad, just a bit self-righteous, no? I’m fairly certain that was the exact plot of the pilot episode of Designing Women.

Instead the show adopts a bit of a tough love attitude. The show is on Dorothy’s side, but her making the occasion all about her and how she feels is portrayed as a bad thing. Blanche, Rose, and Sophia make it clear that, while they love and sympathize with Dorothy, they aren’t going to let her self-pity ruin Kate’s wedding. Sophia even tells her she’s acting like a jerk. “You’re not the first woman to be dumped by her husband.”

You could argue (and I’m sure many who’ve been in Dorothy’s position would have a point) that this is diminishing how Dorothy feels, which is probably still pretty raw. But their pushing is ultimately good for Dorothy, as it encourages her to deal with her feelings on her terms.

I don’t know if it dates the episode that Dorothy manages to scramble a full-blown wedding for Kate within a week, but the fact that Stan is able to make plans to fly from Hawaii in a few days on the spot does feel a little 80s -- kind of like the opening scene in Die Hard where John McClane open-carries a sidearm on a plane. It just makes you say “Well, there was certainly a time when this was plausible.”

Similarly, it’s maybe a little odd that Kate’s getting married to man she’s known for six months to a man neither of her parents have met. Again, maybe that’s something that only feels odd today, but whatever, it’s in service to the plot. Still, all the parts where Dorothy showers praise on Dennis, not to mention the part where she says she’ll kill Dennis if he doesn’t take care of Kate, feel rather awkward given what happens next season. We’ll get to that episode when it happens.

Herb Edelman is great as Stan, but watching this episode, it’s amazing that this nasty, spiteful character who keeps making digs at Dorothy in spite of her doing nothing wrong would eventually become the likable goofball we know from the rest of the series. I’m not mad about it, because him being so terrible in this episode is what makes Dorothy’s speech such a powerful one, but if you watch this one back to back with, for example, “If At Last You Do Succeed,” it’s like watching two completely different characters.

I concede that an explanation for this could be that Stan’s had several years to change by the time of the latter. But Stan’s pivot from villain to a likable recurring character is still pretty jarring. Again, I think it’s a change for the better, but it was worth pointing out.

Also, I’m not sure how, but the episode already trips up its own continuity. In the pilot, it established that Dorothy and Stan were married for 38 years, having been married after Dorothy became pregnant, and they divorced two years ago. Kate is Dorothy’s only known child at this point, and she certainly doesn’t look 40 (her actress, Lisa Jane Persky, was 30 when the episode aired). We meet Michael Zbornak later in the series, but he’s even younger. Dorothy should really already have children-in-law and grandchildren by this point. But hey, then we wouldn’t have this episode.

I’m still working out a rating system for the episode, so for now, let’s say... 4 cheesecake slices out of 5? Dorothy’s speech alone bumps it up by a point if nothing else.

Favorite Part of the Episode:

ROSE: I don’t know what I would have done if Charlie had suddenly paid a visit. SOPHIA: He’s dead. You would have fainted.

[chaniters]

And the winner is...

Next part of @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac series. 

Complex stories take a long time to plan!!!

Another hospital scene... 

Spoilers ahead for Rebirth

Previous part is here:  8 https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/188183225024/blood-in-the-water

__________________________

Hospitals. Wards. Infirmaries. 

You hate them all.

Too sterile. Too familiar. 

Yet here you are, mind full of guilt, sitting by the bed, waiting for him to wake up. Your hand goes absently to the plate where the cookies are, fetching one two. 

Idle time is another one of your pet peeves, and thus you brought something to work on. The decryption programs you brought on your phone are top-notch coming directly from the farm and should work on anything, but the Loan Shark’s data-rod on Elyise has proved impervious so far. Still, you’re not giving up and there are a few more tricks to try. 

You’re almost sure it’s not an American encryption protocol, which only raises more questions as to the true extent of Hollow Ground’s connections. Whatever the case, they didn’t want this file to be seen which is all the more compelling reason to break in and see what’s inside.

You keep on trying though, each new variation of your protocols failing after a short while with a monotonous beep from the phone and the sound of crunchy chocolate cookies the only things letting you keep track of time. 

At least that’s so until…

“Are you going to leave some for me, jerk?”

You put down your phone, looking at him. His eyes are open, and he looks pale. Pale, but awake. 

The immediate wave of relief is so strong you feel you’re about to lose it. But you force yourself to keep it together.

“If you think you’re going to get one of MY cookies, you’re awfully mistaken. It’s going to be baby food from now on for you Marsha!” 

“Baby food? Yuck. I’m out of here!” he says trying to move up before stopping with a pained expression. The movement makes his mods go off, sending a zap towards the machine he’s attached to, which turns off and then reboots

“Watch it sparkles! Those things take a lot to reconnect if you break them... “ you sigh while  “You’re might be patched up but you’re still wounded.  Better get used to it too, you’ve got some horizontal time ahead of you”

“Ugh. Ook…  Maybe I’ll rest for a little bit after all” he relents. 

“That’s how things are going to be from now on. You’re staying there as long as you have to ”

“Who made you boss again?”

“Your mom. Also, she promised more cookies if I stop you from doing anything stupid”

“So you sold me out for chocolate chips?”

“They’re really good,” you say taking another. “Really really good” you add with your mouth full.

You monster…” he says with the hint of a smile.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. So, how long have you been awake?”

“Not sure. Didn’t notice you were in the room at first.”

“Do you know where you are?” you ask “Or what day it is?”

He ponders hard for a few moments examining the surroundings before answering “... The HQ?”

“That’s right. We’re at the infirmary”

“How long I was out though.”

“I’d say about two days, give or take.

“That’s insane. Where are the others?”

“Asleep I guess? It’s 3:00 am”

“Whaa… what are you doing here so late then?” he says narrowing his gaze, making you feel a bit uncomfortable. “I thought you hated hospitals...”

“I do. But I’ve managed so far” 

“Didn’t know you cared that much about me”. Bullseye, he got you there. 

“Don’t flatter yourself” you grunt. “It’s bold of you to assume I’ve got a life outside the hero gig anyways,” you say deflecting. “And this isn’t really a big deal. I get free food. And this is just part of your base, not a real -real- hospital anyways... I mean I could do this for any wounded ally” you add averting your gaze. The snort tells you he didn’t buy into that. 

It was a really bad lie, you’re usually better at this, of course, he knows you wouldn’t get into a hospital -even an infirmary- for just anyone. Well almost anyone, you know that now. Are you losing your touch? If you blush right now you’ll have to just kill yourself right here.

“Look, I’m taking turns with your mom, ok? That’s all! It’s really no big deal.” you sigh. “She left at midnight to get some sleep. She’ll be back in the morning.”

“So you met her?  can’t believe I missed that! What did she even say?”

“Oh uh… Not much… really. She seemed to like me I think?” In fact, she said a lot to you. About how Ricardo keeps talking about you and how he’s lucky to have such a good friend that you’d offer to stay for so long… and a whole LOAD of other stuff about Ortega that you didn’t know. “How are you feeling?”

“My chest hurts like hell. But I’m good at keeping up appearances,” he says with another pained smile. His voice sounds tired. Damn him and his unreadable mind… you couldn’t tell it hurt like that.

“Let’s fix that,” you say as you raise from the seat and start fiddling and adjusting the drips attached to his arm.

“Hey hey hey… What are you doing?” he asks nervously as he watches.

“Increasing the painkiller dosage?” you explain matter-of-factly

“But shouldn’t my doctor do that?”

“Fuck him”

“That’s a bit harsh”

You turn to look at him “He took you off painkillers because your sponsors bribed him so they can get a full diagnostic of your mods by the morning. They seem to think the drugs would mess that test’s accuracy.”

“... that does sound like something they’d do, the jerks...” he sighs. “What did you do?”

 “I dealt with it.”

“Dealt with it how?”

“I had him confess what he did, and then killed him”

He looks at you wide-eyed for a few seconds. Wow, he actually believes you could do that.

“Of course I didn’t kill him you asshole! That was a joke. He’ll come back eventually when it’s time to check up on you. I just gave him a time-out”

“Oooh…  It’s just you don’t tell that many jokes. And you were pretty convincing for a moment there. Did I tell you that you look very serious most of the time?”

“Idiot” you groan sitting reassuming your adjustments as he watches, a bit more relaxed now. “By the way I know what I’m doing. I’ve got training as a nurse”

“Really? Maybe I should hire you to do this more regularly. Didn’t know you had medical training”

“That’s me. Big box of surprises. Sadly, you couldn’t afford me,” you say with a smirk. He just snorts, which makes him hurt again. He’s an Idiot and you should probably stop telling him jokes. 

“Ok, doc… Can we move on to the part where you tell me how bad it is?” he says looking at his chest. “Or do we need the real doc for that?”

“Nah, I can do that… It’s really bad right now” you start “Nasty cuts. You went into intensive care, but you’re off now, your surgery was a complete success with no organ damage or permanent injuries. You still had blood transfusions twice from two of your cousins who were here when they brought you.  You’re going to have some new interesting scars. Overall, the consensus is that you’re going to be wearing your Charge suit as soon as they can spit you out of here. Your sponsors have prepared some media things for you while you recover, so you don’t lose the limelight, so you can expect cameras up your nose when they realize you’re awake.”

“Well that’s just…” he starts before trailing off.

“Grotesque? Horrible?”

“Business as usual really…” he says taking in a deep breath. 

“I’ll scare them off too if you want. Shouldn’t be hard.”

“How about I hire you to be my personal spook instead?”

“You don’t need to pay me for that,” you say as you finish adjusting the dosage “Also, you should be feeling better in a bit, and if you don’t we can go for a stronger dosage... Or I can even get the asshole to give you something stronger”

“Thanks, Awan” 

“It ‘s ok,” you say taking your seat again.

His gaze runs around the empty room, the dark corridor outside, and the digital clock by the bed. 3:17 AM. It’s pretty obvious it’s only the two of you right now. 

“Thanks for staying Awan. I know how much you hate hospitals”

“I do hate them a lot. But I told you it’s nothing”

“Not everyone would do this”

“I bet a lot of people would…”

“Nope. Only a really good friend would. “Would you be mad if I told you you’re my best friend ?”

“Wha…? Now you’re just being ridiculous…”

“Because you are my best friend. You know that right?”

“I...” you say averting your gaze. Fuck, you’re going to blush. You rub your face before looking back. 

“Oh. Now you’re mad” he grins. 

“You’re my best friend too, ok?… “ You’re staring right at him, the words somehow escaping your lips very quickly before you can take them back. Shitshitshitshit...Why does this keep happening around him?

He opens his mouth about to say something, before he simply closes it again, giving you a fond smirk before patting your hand next to the bed. He says nothing and neither do you.

It takes a while before he breaks the silence again. 

“Is Elyise alright?” he asks suddenly worried. 

“She’s fine.”

“I just had this feeling of… Did something happen to her?”

“I told you she’s fine. See for yourself” you say with a half-smile turning on the TV. “The news is still raging on about her”

Sure enough the news report show a picture of her at the large screen behind the reporter, with the headlines “Exclusive interview, Elyse”  She’s giving an interview, photo flashes showering her as she answers questions about her relationship with Ortega -which she deflects with some mistery -  and the mess that happened at the docks -which she also deflects-. You’ve got to discuss both of those with Ortega too.

Then a reporter asks her about the death of her mother… she breaks, starts tearing up… one of her PR guys says the interview is over and takes her away. The media is loving her, even if that breaks her apart. 

“Don’t you love Los Diablos Quality TV?” you ask sarcastically. 

“Ugh. That’s my life. I gave her a few hints but you can never be ready for questions like that.”

“What’s the deal between you two?” you ask curiously

“Ehrm… well, we talked a lot after that mess in Sunken Town… She was really sad and needed someone to dump it all on, and I kind of was there, so we started talking about losing parents… And her story was out of this world. We talked all night, and then I was going to go back home and she wanted me to stay and one thing led to another and…”

“Oh” 

“It’s not like that! I mean… Ugh… Crap, I guess it is like that.?

“Sound like it is” 

“But then our PR’s got involved and they loved it. They wanted to make a whole story arch about it, and I was going to say no, but she asked me to do it? I mean she said we should do it, you know, to get headlines”

“So there’s nothing serious going on?”

“Ehrm…” he seems a bit confused by the question. “I don’t know? No? Yes? Maybe?”

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s just me asking” 

“Yeah, I know. Truth is, I’ve got no idea. Never met anyone who’s lost as much as her. The things she endured… And I’d like to help her but I’m not sure if she’s in the right place now.  I guess we’ll have to see where it goes? You know how these things go with other heroes…”

You nod as if you knew what he was talking about, which you don’t. 

“Now with thy dumpster fire love life out of the way… could you….”

“Could I what?”

“Remind me how did I fuck up so bad as to end up here?”

“You don’t remember?” 

“Nope.”

“Not even…?”

“Not a clue pal. Nada.” Crap. “I guess it had to do with the docks mess that Elyise talked about?” 

“It does. What’s the last thing you recall?” you ask

“I think we were at some sort of event, right?”

“... yeah, we were. Hauswald fundraiser for their new facility. Reaper hosted it...That’s when it all started going downhill. You seriously don’t remember a thing after that?”

“Hmm... I think some of it’s coming back… but it’s blurry... “ he goes silent.

“Alright, I’ll try to keep it short…”

“Why? You told me I’m not going anywhere”

“... you just... listen”

___________________________

Hauswald Foundation Charity fundraiser dinner.

 Dodge to the left to avoid the punch… flip away from the kick… 

One of them thinks he has the advantage and attempts to trip you, but you time your jump correctly, and he misses. THey’re all off balance… Now’s the time to take the offensive! 

Leaping forward onto your three attackers, you grapple them all in your arms, lifting them as they scream in surprise before you slam them forward with all your strength. 

Excellent, you tell yourself as the three kids fall off onto the bouncy castle, giggling as they try to stand up and jump. The other kids cheer at you. They really love your Sidestep persona. You’re tempted to jump in yourself, but you’ve been using the bouncy castle far too long and some of the parents are starting to give you side-eye. Stupid rules say the castle is just for kids… Oh well, better quit while you’re ahead.

“Good try, you almost got me there!” You say behind your mask. You didn’t know what to expect when Ricardo asked you to make an appearance with the Hauswald kids, but now all you want to do is keep playing with them. They had this playground built so the permanent residents could spend time with their kids until the new facilities are built.  It doesn’t help that chronologically speaking, you’re probably not too far apart from their current age. 

The thought makes you ponder on how would it have been to have a normal childhood like them and the whole experience suddenly becomes both sad and alien. You only wish you could have…-

“Wow. You’re amazing with kids! What other secrets do you have?” Anathema says interrupting your thoughts.

“I’m a genetically modified monster created in a lab as a weapon designed to pass as a human and take over the world,” you say because the truth is often the better lie. You wave your arms in front of you, walking slowly to Annie, as a monster would. 

“I knew it. You’re one of them eeeevil Snake-people!”

“Ha! We prefer the term Sneeple. We’re not anything like snakes!. We just happen to be poisonous” you grin under the mask. 

“Sneeple” the children laugh pointing at you.  

“Oh no! You’ve got me!” you cry out. “But I will not go down easily! Prepare to feel my poisonous bite Anathema!”

“I’ll defeat the Sneeple guys!” Anathema says doing a slow-motion mock-punch at you. 

You fake a suitable slow-motion fall, and they all laugh it up. 

“Good job,” Anathema says offering a hand

“Giving it a 101%” you chuckle as you take his hand and he lifts you up.

“You should have kids of your own one day man. You’d be great at it”

“Let’s go back into the ceremony,” you say quickly. “I think we made our appearance long enough already,” you’re ignoring his comment and hoping he won’t ever mention anything as scary and confusing as that ever again. 

“Can’t wait for the big awards to be over?” 

“That’s the plan, I’m not staying a second longer than I have to”

“Man you could really use some decent PR for a change, get some sort of message to your fans. There’s a magazine saying you’re secretly a Japanese ninja, coming out all the way from Kyoto in search of the murderer of your father. It’s nuts. You should get closer to the people and get a real story going...”

“Hell no, no one’s getting closer to me. Also, I happen to like that story. I think I’ll sprinkle some Japanese when I talk in public from now on...”

“Wait, you speak Japanese?!”

“Of course I do. Now If only I could find my father’s killer…”

“You asshole!” he snorts following you back inside.” 

___________________________

“And without further ado, we move on to the event of the night,” Reaper says holding the mic with his good hand. He’s in a wheelchair, still with a cast arm, but the combination of an impossibly expensive Tuxedo being worn by a talking skeleton oddly makes him both look distinguished and larger than life. In an eldritch kind of way that is. His mind’s different, there’s a fire in it that you didn’t notice before. Fire. Like the Hospital burning. It’s not really very surprising that he’d get a whole new passion for rebuilding what he loves. 

“We hand over the Hauswald awards to those who have contributed the most in our fight against the epidemic of death that threatens our great nation!” he announces. “The panel of judges has spoken,” he says motioning to a group of people sitting on a large table by the podium, famous all of them, reporters, politicians, artists, writers, and philosophers founding members of the Hauswald along with Reaper himself. While the founder is dead, Amanda Hauswald, his only daughter is right there too, a young blockbuster actress in her 20’s that’s set to play Elyise in her upcoming film. She rises from her chair, adjusting her gorgeous silver velvet gown and climbs to the stage, to pass several envelopes to Reaper.

Reaper thanks her, and prepares to announce the winners. 

“Are you going to eat at all?” Ortega asks beside you, wearing his own white suit.

“The mask stays on”

“You could just lift up the lower part a bit” Anathema comments from the other side.

“The mask stays on” you repeat.

“But these are amazing!!” he says motioning to his plate

“That’s why I brought this,” you say tapping a large piece of Tupperware full of everything you could gather from the reception up to this point.

“You didn’t just bring that to…” Ortega looks at you appalled “You can’t… you can’t do that at  events like this!”

“Just watch me,” you say defiantly. “The mask stays on, and I take my food-to-go” You’re sick of being starved every time you get dragged into something like this. The only compromise you made was letting Anathema add last-minute bowtie to your suit, which looks oddly fitting for the occasion.

“Unbelievable… fine... Just keep it out of sight, and if anyone asks, I don’t know you” Ortega says giving up. 

“I still think someone leaked,” Steel tells Sentinel, from the other end of the table.”

“With half the police being corrupt, it’s not that hard for the Loan Shark to get leaks about us coming to arrest him anyways” Sentinel shoots back. “Or are you saying that one of us gave the raid away on purpose?”

Steel looks at you briefly, before answering. 

“No, no I didn’t mean that… But perhaps if we kept the intel only to the inner team, we could avoid it all spreading and…”

“Let it go, it’s not against you” Annie whispers “He just angry and It could have been anyone. Like Sentinel said, half the police’s on Hollow Ground’s payroll.”

“I know… I just wish he’d trust me a bit at least” you whisper back. “I was the one who came with the ledgers in the first place”

“I’ll remind him”

“Don’t. Let it be, it’s ok” you say looking at the other tables. The raid to arrest Lewie was a bust, he had been tipped off and the office had been whipped clean. Not even a trace of the furniture and the walls had been repainted. And his safe was gone. 

Your attention derails towards Elyise. She’s watching Reaper’s delivery from another table along with her own crew, investigators, photographers, and publicists. After the events with Mother, she’s become the main torchbearer to the Hauswald, possibly overshadowing Reaper himself, and the public relationship with Charge shun even more light over her rising star. Reaper’s provided her every resource, both in her hero duties and with an endless media bombardment that’s working to get her ahead in the hero-game fast. She doesn’t seem thrilled about her life being used and exposed this way, but you can’t really blame Reaper. She’s the perfect poster-child to lead the fight against the madness of loose hero-drugs trough the country, and he knows it. 

Reaper goes to announce awards for artists, media representatives, film-makers, and others. Right after regular every-day hero award, he moves on to the main event of the night. 

The hero awards. 

The Hauswald offers one of the most coveted awards for those who care about that kind of thing. This is the main reason Ortega insisted you be here if the Rangers win, he wants you to share it with them if they win, and he somehow managed to verbally outmaneuver you into coming along. Truth is everyone expects Elyise to win this year, but Ortega’s still hoping for a new trophy. 

The man must control some form of witchcraft to get you agreeing to come to something like this. Or perhaps you’re finding it harder and harder to look for excuses to keep your distance from him. The thought makes you shiver under your suit.

He takes pause as he reads the contents of the last envelope.

“Oh boy… Really?” he says, a boney hand rubbing his face. He looks back at the judges as if to double-check. They all nod at him, and he turns back to the audience. “ Well, this is going to be controversial. Alright, Light up the contenders!” he asks the organizers. 

Ortega stands straight, as Steel frowns when the lights come upon your table. Something similar is happening to your left, where Captain Glory and the Phoenix Rangers are also getting ready in case they win. Elyise’s not on her table surprisingly. You can see her walking to the side, having what looks like a really nasty discussion over her phone. That’d odd… 

One of her team took her chair, waiting to receive the Award for her if she happens to win. 

It takes forever before Reaper finally speaks, probably trying to be theatrical. 

“I am proud to announce the winner of this year’s award of the Hauswald, an individual who’s done more than anyone else to stop the scourge of power drugs. Someone who took it up to themselves to fight back against the endless spiral of death the corporations bring upon our beloved West Coast…”

You can see Ortega’s fists clenching as he looks completely tense. Captain Glory seems just as tense when Aurora takes his left hand, startling him before he smiles at her. They’re such a darn cute couple… 

You end up staring at Ortega’s hand, so close to yours. You can’t stop thinking about how his suit fits him like a glove and how he looks so darn…

You force your gaze to look elsewhere as fast as you can. 

Elyise’s standing by the sidelines, her phone discussion seems worsening and she looks really mad now. There are some stray thoughts coming from her. Someone wants her to do something… and she won’t have it. You can feel her anger. She feels... Threatened by something… ?

“Sadly, the winner couldn’t join us here for the event, but If they are listening, we hope this serves as the recognition they deserve, even if some of us don’t personally condone their methods of fighting the drug epidemic...” he goes on, prompting confusion through the room. 

“... the winner goes by many names, but lately, media has settled on one, and it’s rather a grim one, but then again, I can’t seriously call anyone out on those grounds”

Laughs at the joke… and suspense.

“This hero has single-handedly stopped the largest rings of drug dealers throughout the city! Thanks to them, hero-drug deaths have gone to their lower point in a decade! The award goes to … 

You can see Ortega biting his lip, and CAptain Glory inching at the tip of his seat.

“...Catastrofiend!”

There is a brief moment of silence amongst the crowd before everyone starts voicing their minds. Elyise looks at the stage confused,  she’s clearly not been paying attention at all and trying to catch up. 

“You can’t award a murderer!!!” someone cries out. 

“Shut up, he cleaned up the corporation’s mess in less than a month!” someone counters. The voices start getting heated from there, with two defined sides forming very quickly around the new vigilante, booing and cheering going over one another.  

Captain Glory and his team stand up at unison and start making for the door. 

“We’re leaving too,” Ortega says standing up, as does Anathema realizing the party’s over.

___________________________________

Rangers HQ, infirmary, present time.

“WHAT?!” Ortega looks at you confused. “They gave the prize to that murderer?!” 

“You know that’s the exact thing you said  after we got through the door” 

“Was Reaper out of his mind?”

“Ehh.. he was kind of all fired up, but out of his mind? No. Besides, he didn’t decide, the Hauswald board did. They’ regularly keep tabs on the price of the drugs, and when you crunch the numbers, there’s no question about it, the Catastrofiend killings have really put them on the run. They had graphs to prove it, not that anyone was hearing. Hero Drugs are almost impossible to buy in Los Diablos right now.

“But Catastrofiend’s… massacring people on the streets…!”

“Well, you know what they think of dealers at the Hauswald, especially after the old facility got burned down. They’re not even people to them anymore. And it’s been on the media since… a lot of people in the police force are speaking about how the Catastrofiend’s helping their job more than the rangers or anyone else in fact. Even the governor flirted with the idea of a pardon”

“That’s insane… What do they expect us to do? Start shooting dealers on the streets now? That award should’ve been Elyise’s”

“Rumor is that was the idea, but the board changed it without telling Reaper… They didn’t want to be seen as just pandering to whomever he chose. And perhaps they’re seeing Catastrofiend as the new Reaper”

“Yeah, back when he wasn’t suitable for kids.”

“Yeah,” you say leaning back on your chair.

He takes a few moments to digest it before speaking again. 

“I guess there’s more to the story? Or did Captain Glory and I start a brawl at the exit and that got me decked here?”

“Oh no. Those… “ you say drawing a circle with your finger chest. “... those came later. We got a call right after the event.”

“What was it?”

“Anonymous caller reported there was a huge shootout ongoing at the docks. They gave enough details to match what we found on the Loan Shark’s ledgers.”

“They found him? That’s great, so he didn’t escape after all!” he says. “Wait… so the Loan Shark did this?” he asks looking at his chest again “Fucking Lewie...”

“Lewie didn’t do this.”

“What? Then who?”

“We weren’t the first to arrive...” 

“They tipped him off again?”

“Catastrofiend was already there when we arrived,” you say grimacing. 

He stays silent, your words sinking in slowly. 

“Go on,” he says in the end.

________________________

My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.