#and of course when i was still in school and had to read a whiteboard or powerpoint from afar

[lacefuneral]

i think stede's adorable little milf glasses

(figure 1. stede's adorable little milf glasses)

are not merely reading glasses, but full-blown prescription-grade lenses that he steadily refuses to wear because he had a hard enough time as a (gay) (autistic) child and didn't need the added mockery of needing a device to see in the 18th century, when glasses were not common devices yet

considering how this man deemed it necessary to have an entire LIBRARY on board, his penchant for escapism, and, again his history of being bullied, i think its reasonable to assume that stede has spent most of his life reading. that a lot of that reading, too, occurred by candlelight, and that this has rapidly deteriorated his vision

rather than wear glasses, though, even as an adult, he simply goes through the world with blurry vision, only bringing out his glasses for rare occasions. he doesn't even READ with them on, even though it would greatly help him. he has a mental block about using them, and they often collect dust in a drawer

[flippinpancakes64]

the Cullens with a reader who can't show emotions and finally smiles after 10 years because of something cute the cullens did?

The Cullens when their SO finally smiles

I’m so terrible at making titles I’m sorry guys. Also for all of these scenarios I was envisioning that the reader is a vampire as well so do with that what you will

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He turned you years ago now

And he’s known you for even longer than that

And for all those years, you have never outwardly shown your emotions

The most he gets from you is a furrow of the brows or a slight frown

It frustrated him a LOT at first

He just felt like he could never get through to you

But over the years of reading your mind and picking up on your other cues as to what you’re feeling, he’s learned to be okay

The two of you are sitting in one of your classes in school

Your Spanish teacher is currently talking about basic vocab for the upcoming unit

You two weren’t paying attention, choosing instead to just look at each other, when the teacher calls Edward’s name

“Mr. Cullen, mind telling me what this is called?” She points to the whiteboard that was currently displaying a picture of a shirt

“Camisa.”

“Wrong.”

“What?”

The look on Edward’s face was priceless, a mix between betrayal, mortification, and confusion

“This is a t-shirt, the word is camiseta. I suggest paying more attention next time.”

You wished you had gotten a picture of the snarl on his face

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips as you giggled silently at Edward’s frustration

Instantly, all of his negative emotions were gone

You, the love of his life, the light of his world, the stone statue in his room, was smiling

He was in awe

He knew that he could never forget anything, his memory too perfect for that, but he still tried his best to commit your face to memory as best as he could

You noticed him staring and straightened your face out

He let it go until class was over, but as soon as the bell rang he grabbed you and pulled you into the hallway

“I always knew your face was capable of emotion”

“Nuh uh. My face is actually always permanently stuck like this”

“Liar”

Even if you never smile again, he can finally rest easy knowing what your gorgeous smile looks like

Even if it was at his expense

Alice:

She’s sort of used to not being able to pick up on emotions

Jasper’s always been more focused on not killing people, it’s not often that he’s comfortable enough to laugh

But then again, he shows discomfort on his face

You show nothing

Sure she was a little frustrated by it, but she got over it

Despite that, she loves you, and she loves everything about you

It’s not like this is a dealbreaker or anything

So life moves on

You were turned a couple of years ago by Carlisle, but you and Alice are only now getting married

You wanted to make sure that you could invite your human family without wanting to hurt them

And ten years was plenty time for that

You were currently standing back to back with Alice, the ends of her flowy dress were tickling your ankles

It was time for the first look, and you both were so excited

Carlisle and Esme stood nearby, Rosalie right in front of you two

“Okay, on the count of three, turn to look at each other. One, two, three”

You both whipped around

And before you stood the ethereal Alice

Dressed in a flowy dress with light purple accents, flowery clips in her short hair, and a huge smile on her face

She looked amazing

There were no words in your mind to describe her

So you just smiled

A big, toothy grin as you took in your future wife

You didn’t even get a chance to say anything before you were almost tackled to the ground by Alice

“This is the best wedding gift I could have asked for!!! I saw in a vision that you gave me an amazing gift but I didn’t get to see what it was! Thank you thank you thank you!”

“Alice I didn’t get you a gift?”

You were so confused

“Of course you did, silly. This right here.”

And with that she kissed you right on your smiling mouth

Jasper:

He’s sort of similar to you

Whenever he’s out in public, he’s too focused on not letting his urges take over

He doesn’t usually smile at jokes, frown at problems, or just generally emote

But when he’s home and away from temptation, he becomes more himself

Only, you don’t change

You’re the same stonefaced self you always are

It’s not too hard for him to deal with, he can feel your emotions

He knows when you’re happy, sad, angry, scared, everything

But of course, he has always wondered what your smile might look like

If he could sleep, he would dream about it

But he never pushes you

It’s a nice, October day

The trees are orange, yellow, and red. The air smells like honey and hot cocoa, and Jasper’s taking you to a horseback riding farm

He wanted to connect to his roots, and prove to you that he was capable of riding a horse at one point

You were both set up with your own horse

Yours was named Princess because she always carried herself with a certain pride

Jasper’s was called Toothache cause he likes to hit people in the jaw

He insisted on taking the difficult one, he claimed over and over that he would be okay

You and Princess were quick buddies, galloping around the pen with ease

Jasper was still trying to get within five feet of Toothache

He decided to try approaching from behind, seeing if the element of surprise would work

But all that got him was a hoof straight to the jaw

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of your throat, a quick, dry guffaw as you looked on in disbelief

Jasper was almost too preoccupied with his anger at the horse to notice, but he did

In an instant he was next to you, staring deeply into your face which was now lit up with laughter

“Horse be damned, we’re goin home, sugar”

He cuddled you the rest of the night

Rosalie:

She was and is very frustrated at your lack of emotion

She’s not asking you to smile 24/7

But once would be nice

The two of you were out and about

Carlisle needed some more supplies for his home clinic, but his schedule for the week wouldn’t allow him to go get them himself

So he wrote a list for whichever one of his kids wanted to go get them for him

You wanted to do it, and since Rosalie loves you, she decided to go to

That’s how you ended up standing under the awning of a RiteAid as the rain beat harshly against the ground

Originally, you guys were going to wait until the rain stopped to run out to Rosalie’s car

But it’s been 7 minutes (not that you were counting) and it only kept pouring

“Do you want to make a run for it?” You asked

“And get my hair wet? No thanks. We can wait, unless you’re in a rush?”

“No I’m good”

And so you kept waiting

As you were standing there, a car veered into the wet parking lot, tires squealing as it turned the sharp corners

It whipped past the front of the store… and splashed a huge puddle onto you and Rosalie

You stood there shocked for a moment, vaguely registering your newly wet socks, when you heard Rose shriek next to you

“I’m gonna kill that fucking asshole!”

Cue a complete meltdown

She’s yelling about the manner in which she will stalk him, slowly make him paranoid, skin him, and then leave his body for his family to find

All while looking like a wet rat

You can’t help but have a goofy smile on your face, your beautiful wife ranting angrily about some stupid teenager

“Are you laughing at me? I swear to god I’ll skin you too. This is unbelievable!”

Once she’s calmed down later she can’t believe that she missed a once in a lifetime opportunity because she was so angry

A couple kisses should calm her down though

Emmett:

He prides himself on being a pretty funny guy

He cracks jokes all the time

I mean, his speech at Bella and Edward’s wedding was full of jokes and innuendos

His ego gets a little bruised every time you don’t laugh at one of his jokes

He knows that you don’t laugh at anything, but still

He would LOVE to be the exception

But 10+ years and he’s started to lose hope about that

That doesn’t stop him from trying though

You two were walking in the mall, hopping from store to store as you bought everything and Emmett carried it all

Across the aisle, you see two people, a guy and a girl

The guy was wearing one of those alpha wolf t-shirts, the words “mess with the alpha, you get the roar” printed boldly on the back

The girl was wearing galaxy leggings, a shirt with a potato on it, and a cat ear headband

The guy took his fedora off of his head, holding it up so that it covered both his and his girlfriend’s faces while they kissed- for far too long, you might add

As you were standing in complete awe at the sight in front of you, you felt Emmett lean close to your ear

“Don’t wowwy kitten, daddy wiww pwotect you”

You lost it

You let out a loud laugh followed by giggles, doubling over as you clutched your middle

Now it was Emmett’s turn to stand there in shock

“Out of all of the carefully planned out, methodical jokes, pranks, and everything else, you laugh at a Daddy’s Kitten joke?????”

He doesn’t know whether to be happy or angry

Esme:

Again, she’s a little upset that you don’t show how you feel

Mostly she’s just worried that you’re gonna end up being emotionally constipated like Pre-Bella Edward

She does not want to deal with that again

Over the years, she’s gotten both more relaxed and more concerned

More relaxed because she’s come to realize that that’s just how you are

More concerned because you would really think that your SO would show some kind of emotion over the span of so many years

But whatever

She tries not to worry too much

Esme had recently joined a local book club with some of the other moms in their newest town

She loved her little group of friends, it gave her an excuse to leave the house

One of the girls had a birthday coming up, and Esme decided to bake her a cake

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, soft music playing from the radio as Esme floats around the room

All of the ingredients litter the counters, looking out of place in the normally empty kitchen

She’s humming as she’s whisking the eggs and milk together

You’re content just to watch her, making occasional small-talk in between phases of her concentrating

Hours later, it’s finally done

Nothing too extravagant, a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and delicate lettering of the woman’s name on top

Esme’s standing behind her creation with a huge smile on her face, pride obvious in her expression

Only she’s got something else on her face too

A little smear of the chocolate frosting right above her chin

You walk over to her, grabbing her face in your hands

She’s beaming at you, and you can’t help the small smile that makes its way onto your face as you wipe off the frosting

She stares at you for a moment with her mouth open, before she shoots you a loving gaze

“This suits you, darling, you should do it more”

And she kisses that smile right off

Carlisle:

He’s probably the least concerned

He’s met many people over his many years of life

No two people are exactly the same, and some people are really different

You don’t show emotion, that just makes you unique, it makes you you

So he’s not too worried

He questioned you briefly while you were still alive if you had depression or something like that

But after you said no, he let it up

Carlisle is sitting at his home desk, writing some papers for the clinic

He’s stressed, very visibly so

And you know exactly why

A new patient came in not too long ago, a young girl who he told you reminds him a lot of this girl he used to babysit when he was still alive

She’s incredibly ill and no one can figure out why

All of the tests show mixed results, the only concrete knowledge they have is that she’s dying

The dark circles under his eyes are prominent

He hasn’t gone hunting since the girl arrived by ambulance one night over two weeks ago

And before that he hadn’t hunted in a while

His skin is greying, his motions are visibly slower, his reactions more delayed

Even at this state, he’s in better condition than most humans, but this is not the man you know

Which is why you’re here with him

You’ve been trying to convince him to go hunting for a while, to just take a break and rest, but he won’t listen

So you’ve resorted to just hanging out with him

It’s better than nothing after all

But as you look over his shoulder to see what he’s writing, you find that you can’t make anything out

Various letters of English words are mixed in with Greek and Chinese characters, accent marks hover over letters, and the punctuation is all messed up

“Carlisle… is that a new language you made up?”

He stops for a second, sets his pen down, and really looks at what he’s been writing for the last 10 minutes

And then he just starts laughing

And you can’t help but smile too

“Are you finally gonna admit defeat and come relax for a little bit?”

He spins around to face you, fully taking in the smile on your face, before rising to place a kiss on your forehead

“Fine, let’s go cuddle”

Vampire! Bella:

She thinks you’re freaky

She’s always been a bad liar, so she can’t hold back reactions even if she wanted to

You can’t seem to react even if you wanted to

She thinks it’s so weird

She’s tried her hardest over the years to get something-anything out of you, but nada

She’s sort of given up by now

You two are out hunting

She insisted on running all the way to New Mexico to find a cougar, so off you went

You’re running through the trees, dodging branches and leaping over roots as you both follow on the tail of your prey

“Go that way, I’ll go this way, and we’ll trap it”

“Got it” you said, and veered off to the right

You managed to come up on the side of the cougar, pouncing on it and taking it down after a bit of a struggle

Only, you noticed Bella was nowhere to be seen

You left your now dead food behind to go searching for her

All it took was one call of her name for you to hear a response… very very far away

“Where the hell are you?”

“Down here!”

You looked down over the cliff’s edge to see Bella at the bottom

Dirt on her face, twigs in her hair, and her high heeled boots broken

You couldn’t help but laugh

“Really? That’s what it takes you fucking asshole? Me falling off a cliff? Oh, you’re so dead when I get up there!”

So naturally you make a run for it

[hysteria-things]

hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

[cherryrikis]

BETTER LUCK TOMORROW - introduction ! senior project

pairing : nishimura riki x reader

synopsis : after being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you (as well as your friends), were framed for the death of your brother and disappearance of your boyfriend. you all had no hope. no job, no money, none of you were even allowed to graduate. at least, until a stubborn kid on a dance scholarship suddenly acts as your savior, riki helps clear your name all for the sake of a school project.

this episode contains the following : 1.3k wc, brief swearing, mentions of death & mentions of murder/killing, lots of dialogue

previous | masterlist | next

“as you all know, you have a major senior project due by the end of the year for part of your college interviews. this will be worth 90% of your grade and is not optional. any questions to far?” riki’s english teacher read off the whiteboard, before turning to face the class.

she cleared her throat loudly before continuing.

“late work will not be accepted, because you have until may 25 to get this project submitted. everyone should know which college they plan on attending, or applying to by now. a google slides format must be be at least 25 slides, and a word doc should be at least 10 pages.”

jungwon quoted the teacher, explaining to riki what’s expected of them after he realized riki hadn’t been paying attention.

“how the hell did you remember all she said? and- why are you even here.. you’re like, a freshman in college.” riki noticed, with a visible look of confusion on his face.

“sophomore, actually. and i’m here for volunteer work! we have finals too you know. i was telling you and sunoo about this last week, but it’s for my social thought class!-” jungwon explained with a smile, only for it to drop as he was cut off .“yeah yeah okay. so what kind of topic am i supposed to pick?” riki asked before crumpling up a random paper into a ball, tossing it in jungwons direction.

jungwon let out a sigh. “riki, you really need to do better. if you can’t improve how you act, that impact will show on my grade as well. and that won’t be good for either of us.” he said as he took the paper ball, unfolding it to reveal riki’s report card from last quarter. it wasn’t too bad really, mainly straight a and b minuses. but the biggest issue, was behavior and participation.

“how would your grade tanking be bad on me? i still have until fall before i start going to ucla.”

“i really don’t know how you got in.” jungwon shook his head.

“dance scholarship. duh.” “nishimura riki! you have 7 more minutes to determine your main topic. i recommend that you use your time more wisely.” the teacher called out from her desk.

“okay seriously, now we have to focus. what topics are you interested in?” jungwon asked, as he pulled his notebook out.

“well, i like dancing. i can research the history on different dance styles.” riki shrugged, loosely putting an idea out there.

“that’s actually not that bad, especially as a dance major. let’s sit on that idea for a bit in case anything else comes up. what else do you like?” jungwon hummed while briefly scribbling a few notes in.

“i don’t even get why i still have to do this stupid assignment when i already heard back from ucla. if anything it’s a waste of my time, because this only benefits the kids who haven’t heard back yet.” riki complained.

“well,” jungwon chuckled. “the start of the fall semester is still a while from now, anything can change by then. they’re still gonna be looking at your final report card and all that. this is just to determine that your slot in that school is ensured. i think the you from freshman year would be proud to see you improve.”

but of course, he wasn’t listening. riki was hyper focused on his computer. at least until the last sentence stuck out to him.

“say that again?” riki questioned, making sure he heard jungwon right.

“the you from three years ago would be proud if you improved?” he repeated an improvised version, with a raised brow.

riki chewed on the bottom of his pen, before hastily writing something down on jungwon’s notebook.

“you.. you want to solve heeseung and jay’s case..?” jungwon stuttered as he read the notes. “how is this even related to what i said? is it because you were a freshman when it happened?”

“do you really believe yn was capable of killing them? i mean honestly, won. we grew up with her. she was heeseung’s little sister.” riki insisted, ignoring jungwon’s previous questions.

“i couldn’t believe it either, because there was no way it could’ve been her. but there was a lot of evidence that said otherwise.” jungwon informed, moving the notebook back onto his desk.

“also, don’t get mad when i say this. but, do you think the reason why you’ve been so fixated on yn being innocent is because you never got over your crush on her from middle school?”

“hey! shut the fuck up dude.” riki hissed, slapping the older boy on the back of his head. “and she was someone we were close to, a 17 year old at the time. it just isn’t likely.”

“age doesn’t mean anything. 35% of murders in america were committed by people ranging between 17 and 21. and, 28% of murders are committed by a relative or acquaintance. chances are low but not zero.” a girl butt in from behind the them. riki whipped his head back to see who it was, only to wish he never turned around.

minji kim. a pain in the original friend groups ass since elementary school.

the two stared at her with two completely different expressions. riki looked minji up and down with a frown, while jungwon just blinked slowly with wide eyes.

“what? do you seriously not remember me?” she scoffed.

“no trust me, we do, minji.” riki huffed before turning back around.

“we’re just wondering how you know that, is all.” jungwon hummed.

“my brother is a police officer now. i’m sure if you didn’t know who he was, one of your other friends might.” she snickered.

minjae kim. he is minji’s brother and one of the officers who handled the heeseung-jay case, aka one of the officers responsible for the arrests of yn and a few others. riki would know, because he attended the court hearing.

“minji, what topic have you selected?” the teacher asked as she briefly looked up from the computer screen.

“i will be making a slideshow on the history of ballet.” she answered with a proud smile. oh how riki just wanted to wipe that look off her face.

“and.. finally. riki and jungwon?”

"me and jungwon will investigate the lee siblings case, from 3 years ago." and the teachers face fell.

"riki, i don't know if this is a good topic write on. you still have time to change your mind-"

"no. this is what i want to do. i want to solve the murder of heeseung lee, and the disappearance of jay park." riki cut off the teacher with determination.

and the class went silent.

"there's nothing to solve! yn lee killed her own brother, and her own boyfriend. case closed." minji said. but remember, her brother was one of the officers who testified against yn. of course, her opinion on the topic was just as biased as riki’s or jungwon’s could be.

"shut up minji, your brother got demoted for a reason. and, you didn't know yn." jungwon waved off.

"you may have known heeseung but that doesn't mean you know her. and i know enough about yn lee to see that shes a cold hearted killer." "enough!" the teacher interrupted.

"fine. riki and jungwon, you may pursue this case. but we have to set some boundaries. first off, you may use any public sources or personal connections. secondly, when contacting any sources like publishers or officers, do not push the limit. if they say certain answers to questions are confidential, then respect that. third and foremost, absolutely do NOT contact the lees or the parks. leave any involved families out of this, especially now that miss yn lee is out of juvie."

she teacher sighed in slight relief as she saw jungwon and riki nodding in agreement.

but what she didn’t see, was how their fingers were crossed behind their backs.

taglist ! @jiiyen @prettiestgirlontheplanet @hannicorpse @wonsboo @murazbae @stilesks @soobinbunnie5 @blvengene @r1kification @gyuvision @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @who-tf-soddhi @mmurazz @jaemified @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @heartheejake @hoonsdrnkdzd

not proofread

[jackiepackiee]

How bout 16!stormbringer chuuya x reader where reader is one of the targets that veralines tryna kill and him and adam have to save them but their in school so adam and chuuya have to like follow them around all day and make sure nothing happens.

𝟣𝟨!𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒱𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝒜𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 / 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

Will DIE so he doesn’t lose you

Wanted to state that first, I mean he’d go full corruption on the city and have his power overwhelm him if it means you’re safe

Especially now, since your death would be caused by him (not his fault, but would think it was)

Things also depend on if he’s already lost the flags or not

If he hasn’t?

Well he isn’t fully aware of the threat

He also isn’t aware of the pain

But if they’ve passed…

He knows how quickly the king of assassins will strike

And with the pain of losing his only friends all at once, he’s like a guard dog.

And if Verlaine is a bitch and sends his own spies or small assassins?

Chuuya will OBLITERATE them

He can’t very well kill Verlaine that quickly

But, he can fight him off

And keep him off your trail

Originally found out by a threat by Verlaine

Some cryptic letter in French left on your pillow

(He broke into your house, left a note, and left, all undetected. What’s scarier?)

You couldn’t read it, so you skipped on up to your favorite person, Chuuya, and asked him to translate it (even if you can read French, the letter made absolutely no sense. Riddles and mentions of names you don’t know)

His eyes stilled, no longer moving left to right as they had when he was engaged by the writing. Their usual light tone when he was with you had disappeared.

“Chuu? What’s wrong, you look…”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. You know what, I probably left this at your house last weekend… Don’t you have school? How about I walk you?”

He loved walking with you, a great start to his day. But today’s motives were different. He needed to make sure you were safe.

“Okay! Wait… who is that?!”

It’s… well it’s Adam. Maybe he could get some practice in on explaining confusing situations with you now?

“Hello, I’m Adam. I’m for Europole-“

“Shut up!.. Sorry bout him… let’s get you to school.”

Every time you questioned who the man with you was, Chuuya changed the topic

You knew Chuuya was a mafioso, but knowing Adam would make you ask too many questions

When you finally got to school, he was annoyed

He hadn’t planned this far and didn’t know what to do for your safety

Human version of “fuck it, we ball” and goes inside the school

“Yes, I’m a new student. Chuuya… And this is my dad, Adam.”

Gets let it?!? You don’t mind, of course

“What the fuck is trigonometry?”

“You ask like I know…”

“You’re the actual student.”

“You’re the one who chose to be here.”

Adam buts in. “Trigonometry is the study of-“

When you get to science class, it’s your lucky day that you have physics

He is amazed by gravity, seeing how his ability works in a scientific way

Definitely shows off, making the whiteboard marker fly across the room

“So that’s why I can lift heavy stuff? I wonder…”

Also definitely got yelled at cause the teacher thought he threw it

Chuuya definitely tells Adam to shut up at least every other minute

When you get to literature class, hope you aren’t reading a book on the human condition

Or anything with relationships of the family kind

Quickly gets reminded of Verlaine, and remembers why he is there

Holds you hand tight

“It’s not weird, I just… my hands are cold, that’s all” “Most teenagers who hold hands are involved in romantic-“ “Shut up Adam!”

It’s finally your last class and he’s nervous

On one side, he doesn’t have to worry about you surrounded by so many others

On the other side, it’s gonna be more difficult to protect you when he just has you and Adam without the cover of a whole student body

So, he takes you to his apartment

It’s… dull

He makes Adam watch the door, and you to his bedroom

Helps with your homework to try and ease any creeping ideas in your mind that this is all suspicious

Even if he isn’t any help, like at all

Sleepover!

Overall, you’re surviving

No fucking way that he’s losing you

Not you, never you

[thebestbookshelf]

Keefitz fluff/happy/comfort headcanons? :D

Fitz is the token baker, Keefe is the token artists. While Fitz bakes Keefe draws him except he gets very distracted very fast from the fact the Fitz is moving at lightning speed putting all the ingredients into the bowl.

Keefe always wants to pour the ingredients (not measure he learned very quickly when Fitz was teaching him that he was terrible at that) but Fitz has a strict no disaster blondes in the kitchen when he is baking rule (this includes Sophie) and it’s posted on a sign on the door which Keefe pretends he can’t read.

So of course Keefe tries to sneak in and pour the ingredients in secret. He fails every time. Fitz protects the bowl with his life and takes baking very seriously. He considers asking Ro to guard the door from Keefe.

One time Keefe insisted Fitz let him draw and made him stand still while the cake was baking. They were focusing so hard (for once I totally headcannon Keefe as ADHD) that they didn’t notice the timer go off and the cake started to burn and make a mess in the oven. This in turn started the smoke alarm which freaked them out so bad. (Sophie is very proud she had no involvement in the disaster)

Since that incident Fitz paces next to the oven while the cake bakes and Keefe uses that time to info dump about whatever he’s hyperfixated on and it’s nice bonding time. Fitz just listens to Keefe ramble on and on about the most random things and he likes hearing new facts.

Before they know it the cake is made and Fitz as always lets Keefe choose the slice he wants first. Then as they eat they decide which of their friends get which slice. It’s very important discussion. (You know how in primary school you would give the dirtiest whiteboard to the person you didn’t like, it’s basically that but with the ugliest slice of cake)

I feel like I went completely off topic from the ask idk sorry about that

[weloveakechi]

As Dreamers Do Chapter 4

This chapter comes to you a day early! I might switch things up a bit from Saturdays to Fridays for posting just because I tend to have a bit more free time those days, but we'll see!

Previous Chapter | Chapter 1 | AO3

~

It is during class the next day that Goro’s phone begins to buzz. He’s spent most of the day ignoring the teacher’s rambling to plot out his schedule for the next few days in his mind, he has cases to finish up, Kurusu to research, the doctor to look into, a few interviews to prep for, and of course Shido’s newest demands to look forward to. It is a muddled kind of plotting as his mind is catching up from a near all nighter the evening before. Despite everything, school work did indeed need to be finished on time, and he'd left quite the pile of it to stew for far too long.

That had gone so long into the night he’d been left with dark bags this morning under his eyes, forcing him to alter his makeup routine to something more covering than normal to hide the exhaustion obvious on his features. He likes to think he’s rather good at makeup, and has grown expert in hiding what he doesn’t want others to see about him, like signs of exhaustion or bruises from poorly executed trips to the Metaverse. 

His third cup of coffee keeps his eyes open and mind churning, because of this he’s aware enough to know his phone going off in the middle of the school day is a bad sign. He scratches off the faint hope of squeezing in a nap today and scoops his phone from his pocket as surreptitiously as he can. 

His stomach gurgles uncomfortably when he sees the reminder he’d set flash back up at him, cream from the coffee curdling in distress. He’s been so distracted by Kurusu and his whole deal that he had almost forgotten about the target he has to deal with by the end of the day. Briefly he wonders if he can feign illness to sneak out and get a head start.  Even as the teacher’s voice goes on about some aspect of the English canon and how it’s important to even Japanese students, he decides he can’t, he needs to keep things as normal as possible, for his image. He can’t just be seen cutting class like that.   

The phone is halfway back to being tucked into the nook in his desk when it buzzes again, thankfully still in his palm and not rattling against the wood. All thoughts of checking it flee from his mind when he hears his name from his teacher. 

“Akechi, why don’t you tell the class what this says, and who said it.” Goro looks up to see his teacher pointing at the whiteboard. There a line of English has been written. 

Goro’s brows knit for a moment as he scans the line, “With every day, and from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and the intellectual, I thus drew steadily nearer to the truth, by whose partial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck: that man is not truly one, but truly two.” He reads, tone and intonation perfect, “It is from Robert Lewis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde .” 

It is a familiar work, they’d been required to read it the previous year and write a lengthy essay on the author and narrative comparing it with a chosen work of Japanese fiction. Goro had not hated the story. 

“Excellent!” The praise comes a moment before his teacher turns to the rest of the class, already focused on the lecture again, “Robert Lewis Stevenson known well for his adventure fiction has works that have been adapted—”

He risks another glance down at his phone, convinced he’s safe from further scrutiny for the moment. Kurusu’s name belongs to the newest message, making Goro frown. What does he want?

Oh. It takes a moment but memory floods back, they were going to meet today to discuss the Metaverse in more detail. His plate is truly overflowing. With his mission at the forefront of Goro’s mind, his own decision regarding this meeting is easy. Kurusu can wait. After all, it's not like he’s going to just jump back into the Metaverse for no reason. He doesn’t know how, nor does he have a Persona. 

Goro: Apologies, something has come up, I won’t be able to keep our meeting today. Why don’t we reschedule for tomorrow?  

He sends the message without even reading the one Kurusu sent, and turns his attention back to class, mind racing with thoughts about how to deal with the upcoming target.

The trip to Mementos ends up being long and arduous, but he finds his target at last and can head home, all free time eaten up while he'd been in the Metaverse. His body aches with exhaustion and all Goro wants is to skip school for the next few days to sleep to hide from the world. Instead, he takes a long shower, then digs out a fresh set of clothes to set out for the next morning’s interview. Then, he falls into bed, stomach gurgling almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. He considers prying himself up to find something to eat, and decides against it. The shoot is at a local café, and Goro will be expected to eat at least something during the interview with…he can’t remember the woman’s name. Some host known for her cooking, he thinks. Or maybe how she rates restaurants? He’s too tired to care. 

He curls in on himself and squeezes his eyes shut, praying the next day goes better than this one.

~

“Ah! Akechi-kun, glad you made it.” Koji Sato says, arms held out to give him an air hug the same way he always does. 

He’s dressed in his usual style, thin glasses perched over a sharp nose to reveal even sharper blue eyes. His suit is immaculate and professional, it’s opened just enough it lends an air of youth to his fifty years, and almost makes one forget the salt and pepper tone to his short dark curls. 

Goro’s public smile is already in place as he allows the man to wave his arms around him, not touching, “Sato-san, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

His agent tuts and gives him a wink, “Come now, Akechi-kun, of course I was going to be here! Kana-chan is a must see!” 

What he means, is that he’s hoping to snag her as a client if she doesn’t already have an actual agent. She does in fact have an internet show rating restaurants, and while she’s fairly new, she’s a rising star who might still be too fresh to have found proper representation yet.

Kana-chan, turns out to be both very sweet and in need of an agent. A win for both Goro and Sato. What’s even better, is that they are treated to a breakfast that’s quite good, and quickly fills the gnawing hole in his stomach. It’s easy enough after that for the two to fill their time with chatter about their favorite cafes, coffee styles, and even breakfast dishes. 

It’s the best interview he’s had so far, even though he hates to talk about food like this. Why he’d let Sato talk him into starting the food blog, Goro has no idea. There’s just about a hundred other things he could have done. But he will admit, the cutesy sweets themed posts have done a lot in getting his face out there. Almost better than the case he’s solved have. The interview with Kana-chan will be just one more boost to his reputation. 

As he’s getting ready to leave, Kato pats his back, bright smile on his face, “Great job today! I’ll send over the link to the video when it’s up so you can have a look, but I think this one’ll be a real winner.”

Goro nods, “I agree, thank you for setting this up.” 

“Of course, of course! Anything for my rising star. Now, the best way to build off of this is you pushing a few new posts. I’m going to send a couple similar cafes your way, make sure you hit them up in the next week or two alright?”

The urge to roll his eyes is strong, but he resists it. Kato has a terrible habit of telling him things he already knows like he’s still new at this. Goro’s only got roughly a year under his belt but it’s been a good year, and he learns fast. He doesn’t need to be treated like a newbie. 

Still he smiles, “Sure. Have you found someone who wants to talk about some of my cases yet?” He adds, wishing his agent would get on that rather than be so into building up his heartthrob image. 

Sato nods so hard his glasses almost fall off his face, with a finger he slips them back up his nose, “I’ve got a couple bites, but what you really need is something big! I know you’ve been focused on those shutdown cases, but what about something with a little more, I don’t know? Pizzazz?” 

“Sato-san, we’ve been over this. I can’t just drop what I’m working on. That wouldn’t be very professional of me, would it?” Goro’s tone is patient, like he hasn't gone over all this before with the man. But Sato is insistent when he gets something in his head. It's part of what makes him a good agent, and part of what makes Goro want to wring his neck sometimes. 

He often wonders if Koji Sato has any idea of the scope of the conspiracy he’s stumbled into. Shido had only brought him in when they realized the public’s perception of Goro let him delve further into Mementos, and thus reach deeper targets. So it stands to reason he might not have any other connection to things beyond just being hired by Shido.  It would be less exhausting if he were aware of just why Goro had to keep on the Shutdown cases, and not drop everything to…he doesn’t know become some kind of idol just for his looks alone. He’s not complaining too much, Sato is an excellent agent, he just sometimes has different ideas of where he thinks he can make Goro shine than either Goro or Shido want him to focus on. 

“Oh I understand, but if something spicy does come up, don’t hesitate to jump on it. The public loves sensation, Akechi-kun.” 

Goro manages to extract himself from the conversation with a tight smile and a promise to be on the lookout for anything ‘sensational’. Then it’s off to school to finish out his day there. 

He actually manages to make it to the last lesson of the school day before anything disastrous happens. 

There is a twinge of anxiety in his chest as his phone starts to buzz, the rhythm indicating a phone call. It is most likely from Shido, the man is ruthless when it comes to failure, and Goro’s been waiting on this call like a ticking time bomb since he and Kurusu stumbled out of Mementos the other day. Still, he doesn’t want, nor have time for an onslaught of demands right now. 

When he does look down at it, Kurusu’s name reads on the screen. Why is he calling? Before Goro can puzzle it out, his teacher calls on the class's attention. 

Even as Goro tries to focus on an assignment being handed out his phone goes off again, this time in short bursts indicating a text has come through. He sucks in a stilling breath and ignores it, pointedly taking notes on what he’s expected to turn in at the next class. 

Three more texts come in back to back. Goro feels them in his teeth.  

He’s sure that if he doesn’t send some kind of response Kurusu will be walking through the classroom door in the next few minutes. 

Without looking his fingers flash across the screen:

Goro: In class, give me 20. 

The buzzing ceases.

The moment class is out, he ducks away brushing off one girl’s attempts to corner him over something that sounds suspiciously like the start of a confession. His attempt at a polite ‘Pardon me’ most certainly comes off as rude especially as it’s tossed over his shoulder as he ducks around a clump of boys talking about basketball. 

Once he’s outside, pressed up against the brick in a secluded part of the courtyard where teens think they can get away with smoking, he takes a look at the messages. 

Kurusu: Thought you might not be in class today. We need to set a time to meet.

Kurusu: A lot has happened.

Kurusu: Like Metaverse stuff.

Kurusu: Don’t ignore these like yesterday, please.

He scrolls back up to read Kurusu’s message from the day before.

Kurusu: I just entered the Metaverse on accident, and took someone with me. Call me, I need to talk to you about it.

Well shit . Kurusu had ended up in the Metaverse after all, and dragged another person along with him. It’s fine, he can deal with this, at least he hopes he can. 

He’s flicked out of messages and into his contacts to call Kurusu when his phone rings, Shido’s name lighting it up like a beacon of chaos. The universe really has it out for Goro, like it’s decided now is the best time to play some grand prank. He absolutely cannot let this go to voicemail. 

“Yes?” He picks up, hoping he doesn’t sound as strung out as he’s suddenly feeling. 

“Your next few days are booked.” Shido starts, and Goro only just bites back a swear, “Inform the school you’ll be out.” 

His free hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase, the smooth handle pressing into his palm, but he keeps his tone neutral, “Might I ask what will have me so busy?” 

Shido’s voice is clipped, “I’ve had to agree to a number of extra deals in order to cover for your failure with that engineer. This fallout is your responsibility.”

Pain radiates up Goro’s ear from how tightly he’s clenched his jaw. He forces himself to loosen it and say, “Of course.”

He says it in his most unaffected of voices, like he doesn’t care at all that he’s about to lose days to this. That Shido’s upended a million plans or put off Kurusu’s legitimately important call again . Kurusu, who if Goro can’t get in line soon, might actually become an issue Shido would want dealt with. 

Shido’s word is law, and Goro has to treat it that way. 

“Only for a little longer.” Loki promises, the words a comforting purr at the back of his mind.

The call ends there, leaving Goro to stew. He kicks back at the brick behind him viciously. He has no idea what to even say to Kurusu. He can’t call him, he doesn’t trust his voice to come out tidy. Not right now. Not as an almost helpless frustration races through his veins, choking his lungs, making him want to scream. He has to answer him, has to come up with something, anything , to make it seem like he’s not blowing him off. 

Goro: Apologies, a very serious case has come up. If it were anything but an issue of life or death I would postpone it to speak with you. Until then do your best to avoid entering the Metaverse again without me. Do not click on that app, delete it if you can. 

Little dots appear on his phone indicating that Kurusu is working on a reply, before they stop. They start again, blinking away at him for a long time before they stop again. Minutes tick by. In an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, Goro’s foot taps up and down against the concrete in quick bursts, heel scraping against the brick. 

Goro: I understand waiting is difficult, however please give me some time.  

The message is also uncharacteristic. Goro doesn’t cushion his words with artificial softness. There’s no need to be gentle in telling Kurusu not to engage in stupid or dangerous activities, in fact the warning works better as something sharp and vicious. But there is something about Kurusu’s delay in responding that bothers him.  

At last a response pings back. 

Kurusu: Just a few days?

Goro: Yes.

Kurusu: Be safe.  

He frowns, lips pressing together at the words before shoving his phone in his pocket. 

~

Akira’s not exactly proud of how he dealt with Akechi’s death. In fact, he freely admits that he’d spiraled. Morgana had told him as much, along with all the other thieves. 

Spiraling is a nice word for what he'd been like. Obsessed is better. It's the only word he can think of for how he'd heaped mounds of guilt on himself deciding for some reason that researching every mental shutdown and psychotic break Shido had ever ordered Akechi to carry out would be a good idea. He’d memorized names, and dates, and poured over family profiles until he saw them in his nightmares. Saw Akechi in his waking hours, tutting at him, and scoffing, disdainful of his futile attempts at changing the course of events. He hadn't been able to get him out of his head, hadn't been able to stop thinking about every what if and scenario. If he'd just met Akechi a few years, months, days, earlier, if he'd known. If he'd said something to him when they'd learned about the plot. Over and over his mind tried things, endlessly taking apart events and putting them back together in different ways. Like any of that would actually change things. Like he ever had a chance. 

Eventually, Ann and Makoto had staged an intervention.

When he’d suddenly found himself standing in Mementos the date on his phone reading the same year he’d come to Tokyo he’d thought, for a few brief moments that maybe he could use that now. Use it to step in and interrupt those cases happening, stop Akechi in his tracks. Keep those people safe, while he subsequently ripped Akechi out of the destructive loop he was caught in.

He stares at his phone reading Akechi’s messages again, anxiety pooling in his stomach like oil, slick and nauseating. The thing he’s quickly learning about time travel is, once he’s changed something, the consequences are swift and merciless. He’d been sure his not so ‘surprise Metaverse visit’ would get a bite yesterday. More so today with a reminder and the calls. It should have gotten the detective instantly at his door, demanding answers and insisting on joining them to keep them out of trouble. 

And it would have worked if not for one thing: fucking Shido Masayoshi. 

Akira hates that man so much. 

He hates him more than he’s hated anything or anyone in this world. The feeling burns in his chest, fire licking at his insides, fueling that spark of rebellion that’s always lived there, in want of little more than a match to set him aflame. He cannot wait to steal Akechi from Shido. Slip him out from under his thumb like the thief he is, proving just how much a fool Shido is for being willing to toss him away like trash, rather than the treasure he is. 

From Shido and Yaldabaoth. Neither of them can have him. Not this time. Never again. He’s here to make sure of it. 

Except no amount of preparation can fix the fact that stopping Akechi from following Shido’s orders just this once has consequences he’d never intended. While he’d been infuriatingly vague in his message, Akira knows he’s not on a case. It’s a hit, or some other unsavory demand from the man. 

He’s so stupid. He should have thought of that, but he’d been so wrapped up in his sudden chance to try something he’d spent hours daydreaming about. So elated to see Akechi alive he hadn’t spared even a moment’s thought for what consequences might arise from his meddling. 

Not that he regrets saving all those lives. He just wishes it didn’t mean more trouble for his friend. 

Akira kicks off from the wall he’s been leaning against and turns his eyes up to the imposing figure that is Shujin Academy. He’ll just have to do better with this next set of events he’s trying to change. 

At least this time he’s had time to plan and work out what he’s going to say, what he’ll do. 

Teens start to filter out of the school with practice finally over for the day to release them back to their homes and families. Akira waits, and waits, until he sees the two people he’s here to find and steps forward. 

“Hi, Takamaki-san, right? We’re in the same class, I’m—”

“The new transfer student. Kurusu-kun, right?” Ann says, pausing. 

Beside her, Shiho stops as well, looking rough, but nothing like she might in a few days if Akira can’t alter her trajectory.

He gives them a winning smile, hand going to the back of his neck, “That’s me. I was wondering if you might have time to go over some homework with me? It’s so much to catch up on already.”

She eyes him, skeptical, “I’m sorry,” She starts to say, clearly wanting to help, but wary of making inroads with him. Which, fair. He gets that. She already knows he lied about school that first day, plus there’s the million rumors already spiraling out of control about him flooding the school. He could be a murderer for all she knows. It’s not like Akira doesn’t actually know one of those himself. 

So he lets his eyes go watery, makes his voice soft, “That’s okay. I understand. I won’t bother you about it again.” He lets his voice crack, channeling all those feelings he’d had the last time he’d only just stepped into Shujin, the desire to make a friend, to find someone to help keep him from drowning.

It’s manipulative, he knows that. He's using Ann’s kindness to get what he wants, but he refuses to let events play out the same way they did before. He has to build relationships now. Make sure these two are safe. If he can just turn them both away from Kamoshida now, he can save them so much pain later. 

Shiho puts a hand on Ann’s arm, “I could use a little help too. We could do a study session?” 

Ann breaks at that, eyes going soft towards her friend, “Okay, sure.” She gives Akira a smile, not the same bright, joyous one he loves, but something hopeful. Like she understands, “Why don’t we go to this diner I know in Shibuya?” 

~

Jazz music drifts around Goro in gentle waves, as he sits, finger tapping to the beat against the base of a glass. Inside blue and green liquid bubbles and shifts as the carbonation of whatever’s been mixed inside pops around ice and a wedge of lime. It’s one of Jazz Jin’s specials, non-alcoholic until he’s old enough to imbibe, but delicious all the same. 

Someone is speaking to him from across the table, their tone playful. Or at least that’s what Goro believes their voice to be like. He cannot actually hear it. He knows the words, knows the inflection with which they will fall, but can’t focus on the voice. He tries to look at their face, and it is as out of sync with everything else as the voice is. What he can see is cast in shadow, the only clear image the glint of light off glasses, concealing eyes Goro knows in his gut would pierce him if he could see them. 

Despite how vague this person is, Goro is not bothered in the least. He is smiling, a real smile, one he has not let grace his lips in forever. All traces of the Detective Prince have fallen away here in this club. His companion doesn’t need that side of him, in fact they saw through it long ago and accepted Goro as himself.

“And what would your wish be?” The voice asks. 

This startles him, but they’ve answered his question honestly and he owes them the same. 

“It’s unrealistic.” He hedges, tapping a finger out of rhythm. A drop of condensation slips down and soaks into the tip of his glove. 

His companion snorts, “It’s a wish , Akechi. It’s supposed to be unrealistic.”

He huffs, “Fine,” Still he can’t look at them when he says it, eyes trailing over to the woman singing at the mic. In stark comparison to his companion, the woman is in perfect clarity, dress a brilliant red, hair tied up and wrapped with something that glitters under the lights.

“I’d wish for more of this. Normal days, spent in good company.”

A few heartbeats pass before Goro dares look back at his companion. When he does, he can feel the traces of pity in their look they’re trying to hide, and scowls, “Stop it. What’s done is done. My actions are my own, I’ve come to accept that. You need to as well so we can move forward, or have you decided to accept his reality?” 

He spits the word ‘his’ with such venom it almost shocks him. Whoever this is, Goro cannot stand them. The feeling churns in his stomach, a sick kind of hatred that he’s only ever felt for one other man. 

His companion opens their mouth to continue the conversation but then they stiffen for the briefest of moments, and relax again, “I see, so that is your desire.” He still cannot hear the words, but knows these are feminine, which is wrong. The voice should be masculine. 

Goro frowns, “If we are being brutally honest, yes, but what does that matter?” His eyes skim off them, unable to take in the details he wants to see, “I’d give much to change the past, but not what he’s asking. I refuse to live in a world with someone else as the architect of my fate.”

A hand reaches for his across the table, skin covered by a glove. They have more of a form now, and if he squints he can almost make them out. 

“I’d like to help you with that. What do you say?” 

He stares at the gloved hand, and after a beat reaches out to take it. 

He opens his eyes to see his own hand reaching up towards the ceiling, fingers splayed out against a beam of sunlight peeking its way through his window. He blinks, there is something blue in the light, fluttering and delicate for just a moment. 

His fingers curl into a fist, his mind itching to remember who that person was. 

Remember?

No. That was a dream. Not a memory. He’s never invited anyone to Jazz Jin with him. It is his sanctuary. A haven against everything his life has become. Besides, what was with all that talk about wishes and reality? 

He lets his hand fall, dropping beside him as he shakes his head against his pillow. It doesn’t matter. It was a dream, nothing more. Perhaps it’s Mementos playing tricks on him again. Frequent trips there do that sometimes, muddling reality and the other world together. Though, this would be the first pleasant one of that type that he’s experienced. 

Goro shakes his head against the pillow, and shoves himself up. He doesn’t have time to waste thinking about all this. He needs to get moving. If the sun is making its way into his apartment he’s running late. He needs coffee, to take his morning bike ride, and get on with his day. Shido had given him a veritable laundry list of tasks to do, and he wants to get them done as soon as possible.  

The next 48 hours are grueling to say the least. Between Mementos and a horribly cliched mansion of a Palace belonging to one of Shido’s partners Goro spends most of his time in the Metaverse with no break in order to dig up dirt on the man and his partners for Shido. 

It is exhausting. All he wants is to crawl back into bed. 

Goro is no stranger to being busy, in fact exhaustion and a full plate have been his close companions on his quest for vengeance against his scumbag of a father. That doesn’t stop him wanting to toss it all away and trade it for one good night’s rest. Days without a break have lined his face with exhaustion. Even makeup can’t hide the red in his eyes, or the washed out complexion he’s sporting. 

All he’s got is a last target to take care of and then he can rest. Rest, and pray Shido’s punishment is over. 

He heads to his favored Mementos entrance for day trips, a busy station where he can easily get lost in the crowd. It’s far easier to fade away in a corner in a space packed with people than be the only person somewhere who just disappears. His phone is in his palm, app just waiting to be activated when—

“Akechi! There you are. How is that case going?” Kurusu slides up next to him, hands tucked into his pockets, school bag tossed over his shoulder. He looks for all intents and purposes a totally normal student. 

One who’s train route is—this one, he realizes. Goro bites back a curse. 

He defaults to his interview smile, flipping his phone over in his palm so the back is facing up, “It’s progressing quickly.”

“Good!” Kurusu’s returning smile is tight, despite his bright tone, “Looks like it’s taking a toll on you. Long nights?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

One of Kurusu’s heels taps against the ground, a sign of nerves perhaps? Goro can understand that, he owes him a conversation. Some answers about whatever happened on Kurusu’s surprise trip. 

“I was hoping we could talk about that accidental Metaverse trip I took the other day.” Kurusu tells him, eyes reading Goro's face, seeing the exhaustion there, “But honestly? I think you probably need to call it a day and get some sleep.”

That’s all Goro wants to do. But he can’t put this off any longer. Today. After Mementos and a nap. Hopefully whatever happened was something simple. It has to have been right? Or Kurusu would have put up more of a fight regarding the whole thing. 

He shakes his head, “What about after school? I have a few things regarding this case that cannot wait, but I should be free by then.” 

Kurusu glances at the subway station entrance, before turning his attention back on Goro, “Not right after school. I have something I need to do then. What about tonight? We could meet at Leblanc, my friend should be able to make it then too.”

Goro’s forgotten about the friend Kurusu took with him into the Metaverse. Just one more complication in this ever growing web. 

“As much as I’d enjoy another cup of that excellent coffee, are you certain you wish to discuss that type of information in front of your boss?” Goro crosses his arms. 

“Ah, right, Sojiro doesn’t—” Kurusu runs a hand through his hair, frustration ebbing off him in waves as he bites his lip. 

He waits a moment, testing the boy a bit to see if he has an alternate suggestion, something that might come quickly to mind and disprove the whole ‘recent move’ excuse. Even with Sakura-san backing him up, something about it all still feels so off. And he hasn’t had a chance to really, properly , research the boy the way he wants to. Not yet at least.

When Kurusu gives him nothing, Goro takes pity on him at last, “There is a café in Kichijoji we can go to. I believe they are open later than most. Will that suffice?” It is one on Sato’s list, and will help Goro kill two birds with one stone. He wonders what his fans would say if he includes a picture of himself and the others together. 

Kurusu blinks at him in surprise, his hand dropping back to his side, “Oh, yeah. That’ll work.” He smiles, “Breakfast for dinner sounds fun. Text me the address and we’ll meet you there. Around six maybe?”

“Six will work.” 

He’s rewarded with a bright smile, “Perfect. Don’t be late, and don’t cancel on us again. I don’t know what I’d do without my Metaverse-sempai.” 

Goro grimaces at that, “Don’t call me that.” 

That only makes Kurusu’s smile widen as he points at him, “Noted. But you have to admit, it’s accurate.”

“It’s absurd.” He can’t stop the edge of laughter in his voice.

Kurusu snorts, before turning it into an actual laugh, his face brightening in a way that seems more real than anything Goro’s seen on his face before. So many of Kurusu’s expressions have been calculated, like Goro’s. It’s easy to tell, Goro knows all the signs. But this? The lightness is refreshing. 

It’s an expression he hopes to see again for some reason. 

[xhollandlilsx]

Bella Ramsey x FacemodelEllie!Reader

Summary: What happens when Game Ellie and HBO Ellie fall for eachother and camera’s catch the exact moment it happens?

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

It’s safe to say Bella and you always mess around on set, being the face and voice model for Ellie during the Naughty Dog games, you are very involved in the making of the HBO show.

Your mother worked for Naughty Dog while you were growing up, so when they called for a face/voice model for the games, your mum put your name straight down, they had to modify it slightly to make Ellie look older as at the time you were a lot younger than Ellie.

‘As soon as we got her in, we got her to do a few poses and say a few lines. And it hit us. She’s Ellie.’

Growing up you did get recognised, and by the time making the second game came around, you’d grown up a lot.

So when they announced the idea of the show, you were of course asked to cameo. You were not however asked to fall for the person playing… well, you.

************

“Hi I’m Bella Ramsey, I play Ellie in the new show The Last Of Us over on HBO.” They told the camera with a smile, playing with the ring on their pointer finger, their arms crossed.

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And I played Ellie in The Last Of Us part 1 and 2” You nodded.

“Today we’re gonna play a ‘Who said it, Ellie vs Ellie.’” They looked at you, “You ready?”

“Born ready” You smirked cracking your knuckles, a scatter of rings adorning them.

****

“Okay number one, ‘You’re lucky you’re still drawing breath. That was plan A, B, C, all the way to fucking Z.’” Bella read out from the screen infront of us, and straight away you got to writing on your whiteboard in your hands, knowing exactly who that is.

You let a smile cross your face, as you watched them struggle.

“Do you know this one?” They asked looking at your smug face, as you held the whiteboard to your stomach so they couldn’t see.

“Yeah, I know this.” You mumbled with a smile and a nod. As Bella just shrugged and wrote something down.

“Ready? 3,2,1.” We both flipped our boards around and held them to the camera.

‘Joel’

‘Bill’

“Joel?” You asked before thinking about it and shrugging, “That does actually sound like a Joel line, but nope it’s Bill!”

“Bill? I thought Ellie didn’t meet him?”

“No no in the game she did, there’s like a whole thing, they go searching for a car battery, and it’s not there and they’re surrounded by infected in like a school, so that’s why he says that.” You nodded really proud of yourself, as a point gets added to a pixelated photo of well, again, you.

“Wow.”

“I can’t believe you’ve still not played the game.”

“Okay next one” Bella laughed to avoid the lecture, “‘Ellie, tell them Ellie is the little girl, who broke your fucking finger!’”

You laughed and wrote it down, one of your favourite lines you said when you were little, thinking you were all grown up because you got to swear a lot.

Bella had beaten you to it, as they scribbled the same name as you.

‘Ellie’

“Love that quote”

“Okay next, ‘I’d prefer you stay, but I know you better.’ Oooo” You told them as you read and reread it, “I’m gonna kick myself so much, I swear I know it.”

“I have no idea” Bella shrugged with a small laugh, as they wrote something down on their board.

“Fuck it.” You shrugged and started to write.

“3,2,1”

‘Tess’

‘Tommy’

“I don’t think it was Tommy” Bella looked at you pinching their bottom lip between their thumb and finger.

“See I don’t think it was Tess. Who was it?” You frowned and looked at the screen waiting for the answer.

‘Maria’

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed before slapping a hand over your mouth, and looking apologetically toward the crew behind the camera, “Sorry, I’ve had strict instructions not to swear.”

“Like a sailor” Bella laughed and shook their head wiping their board off, “You remember it now?”

“Yeah! She said it to Ellie, when she… nearly spoiled… sorry sorry”

“Next.”

“‘You killed my friends, we let you both live, and you wasted it!’” You read out, dramatically, knowing full well who said that, seeing as though you were stood opposite her in your motion suits when she did.

“I actually know this one” Bella smirked to themself, looking rather smug as they wrote on their board.

“You do? How?!” You looked up at them.

“Saw it on TikTok” They shrugged and winked at the camera.

“Okay, 3,2,1”

‘Abby, TLOU Pt 2’

You both laughed at how specific you both had been.

********

You hopped up on the stool, settling into yours and Bella’s third interview of the day. Only this one wasn’t so much an interview, more a music video.

Bella sat opposite you adjusting the acoustic guitar on their leg, strumming the strings a couple of times to make sure it was in tune.

“Okay, what about Dina? Cascina or Paolina?” Bella asked from opposite me carrying on the quiz they started on the way over here.

“Paolina’s your Dina. So Cascina, but she didn’t even play Dina she was just the face model.” You smiled adjusting the mic’s height.

“But you played Ellie? Why didn’t she play Dina?”

“Because they wanted her face, they already had an actress for her” You shrugged as they counted down to the start of the video, you cleared your throat as you played with the sleeves of your shirt.

Bella’s concentration went to the guitar in their hands, as they adjusted it and looked at you for an okay, you smiled with a nod and they started finger picking the song you knew all too well. ‘Take On Me’ by A-Ha, the infamous Dina and Ellie song.

Your concentration went to the song, as you waited, looking at the floor beyond the mic.

“Talking away, I don't know what I'm to say, I'll say it anyway, today is another day to find you…Shyin' away. I'll be comin' for your love, okay.” Your voice was a little more mature than when you recorded it for the game, you closed your eyes, one hand on the mic. Bella’s fingers danced over the strings, as they switched from chord to chord, fingerpicking the strings.

“Take on me, take me on, I'll be gone, In a day or two” Your foot tapped against the bar on the stool, to create a beat for you, as your eyes focused on the greenery backdrop closing when the notes got higher.

“So needless to say, I'm odds and ends, but I'll be stumblin' away, slowly learnin' that life is okay, say after me, it's no better to be safe than sorry. Take on me, take me on, I’ll be gone, in a day or two…”

With your eyes closed you couldn’t see the way Bella wasn’t focused on the guitar anymore. Far from it. Their eyes were glued to you, studying you as you sang, the way your nose would scrunch when you sang a higher note, or the way you licked your lips before every verse, their soft eyes didn’t leave you for a second. And my god did the fans notice.

Bella was besotted. Nobody else existed in this moment, in this moment it was just you, them, a guitar and a cheesy 80s song. There was no cameras, no crew, nothing.

Their hands were purely relying on muscle memory at this point.

You opened your eyes and looked over at them, smiling slightly, as the line ‘You’re all the things I’ve got to remember’ left your lips, and Bella was gone.

You were it.

Nobody compared.

Comments:

@****: Get you someone that looks at you the way Bella looks at Y/N.

@*****: Bella caught lacking again.

@*****: Not very good at hiding it is she? 👀

@*****: 2:47 Look at Bella’s mf face. They’re in deeeeeeep.

@*****: Y/N come home the kids miss you.

@*****: Was in love with Y/N yesterday, am in love with Y/N today, will be in love with Y/N tomorrow.

@*****: Ellie and Ellie 🥰.

@*****: You can see the exact moment Bella falls HARD, 2:46.

(Did not proofread this, and thought it was a good idea until I started writing… 🤌🏻)

[shostakobitchh]

Chapter 59: growing pains

The girl’s fingernails were digging into the varnish on the desk. 

She’d stayed like that all class, not moving, not even her eyes. They stayed glued to some distant, unreachable place Severus surmised wasn’t even in the room. Granger had been sending worried, panicked glances — once she’d recovered — between Miss Evans and Weasley-twerp the entire time, while also somehow frantically copying every goddamn word that came out of Severus’ mouth. 

He couldn’t stand the lot of them — the little harebrained halfwits, defending their beloved teacher while Severus was the one brewing a potion to make sure none of them were torn to pieces. 

And now, with the rest of the little dunderheads gone, Severus had the girl exactly where he wanted her. 

And it seemed as though she knew it. 

He hadn’t asked her to stay behind — he’d snarled Weasley-twerp’s detention to him before he’d even managed to skulk towards Lupin’s desk — but the girl hadn’t moved so much as an inch. 

Severus assessed the girl from across the room. He’d stayed put by the whiteboard, watching her carefully. The gall of the brat to be angry with him — after she’d nearly given him heart attack, not moving in the bloody girl’s loo for twenty fucking minutes — 

The girl did not move now, either. She glared at the tabletop like she was planning on turning it into kindling.

He moved to stand right in front of her and tapped the desk twice with his knuckle. “Where. Were. You?”

Her black eyes snapped up to meet his. “You made Hermione cry.” 

Fuck — of course she would have taken it personally. As if she couldn’t see past all of it to know that he couldn’t have stood for any of it. He would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t felt it immensely satisfying to finally have an excuse to tell the little know-it-all to shut up, but as always, Severus had forgotten that his daughter possessed the same amount — or lack thereof — of self-control. 

Severus stilled. "That is not what I asked you —” 

"You made Hermione cry," she repeated, her voice raised just a fraction. 

“Miss Granger is quite capable of taking care of herself," he retorted coldly. "This has nothing to do with her."

Something shifted in her gaze, a determination that shimmered dangerously.

Severus let his palms rest against the surface and leaned forward so that he was nose to nose with the girl. She did not flinch or look away, matching his gaze with a defiant glare. Her left cheek twitched, but that was all that moved in her face. 

"You will answer my question," he began dangerously. “and Miss Granger was speaking out of turn.” 

Her entire face rippled, like a stone skipping across a pond. It actually looked like she was having some kind of spasm, the waves moving all of her emotions to the front before she could school her expression back into cold, hard anger. She’d been doing a nearly admirable job — Severus supposed he had himself to commend for that. Lily would have thrown a chair at his face, by now. 

“You made her cry.” Miss Evans said again. No emotion there — flat and void. The brat was Occluding from him. 

Well, two could play that game. He had been meaning for her to put it to use. 

“Are you capable of saying anything else, or shall I throw you out?” Severus asked, keeping his voice as smooth as glass. He really should have taken more House points, should have read them all the riot act when all he was trying to do was protect the stupid little fuckwits from their werewolf teacher — 

The girl’s dark eyes flashed wildly. Already slipping — it was almost disappointing. “I’d like to see you try.” 

How very like her mother she was — so quick to anger — even if he deserved every bit of it, but she truly understood so little. He wished he could shatter the illusion, but the werewolf had done enough, omitting things about Potter. He’d dug his own (metaphorical, regrettably) grave. 

"Mind your tone, girl.” Severus said softly, letting a dangerous edge slip into his tone. "You may be my daughter, but in my classroom, you are still a student. Do not make the mistake of believing yourself above consequences."

“I’ll do that, thanks,” the anger was bleeding into her voice, now, cracking through the syllables. “Thanks so much for the reminder.” 

“Clearly you need one,” he snapped. 

“I reckon you need something a lot stronger.” she said, without missing a beat. 

Miss Evans clearly knew she had overstepped — again. Her eyes went a bit wider, as though she were shocked that those words had come out of her mouth, but her lips tightened, locking down her choice, making it impossible to take them back. 

“I’d like to know what you mean by that, you little cretin.” Severus snarled. 

The girl’s resolve flickered like a candle in the wind, but her eyes were burning into his. For a moment, it seemed like she was battling something from within, but then she took a deep breath and said: "I mean that you're a right foul git sometimes.” 

Severus stared at her — only slightly taken aback — seeing so much of himself in those defiant, dark eyes. The anger — the need to make someone hurt. The difference was that she was doing it because she cared about Granger, but that blasted know-it-all just didn’t know when to fucking shut up. She wrote more than she needed, blathered on more than necessary, desperate for — whether it was attention or some other unfillable void, Severus did not know or care — but it was something that got under his skin. The fact that Granger was his daughter’s dearest friend drove him mad, sometimes, but he did have to admit that the brat was brighter than most. Severus could only imagine the daily idiocy Miss Evans would find herself involved in had she only befriended Weasley-twerp — or those horrid bloody twins.

She’s all alone — 

“And you,” Severus sneered. “Are about three seconds from finding out just how foul I can be. You’ve seen nothing if you think putting Granger in her place was too far.”

She seemed to swell with anger, then. “You didn’t need to humiliate her in front of the entire class! If you’re mad at me for being late, take it out on me, not her!” 

“That has nothing to do with this, you ridiculous girl.” 

“Then what is it?”

Severus's lip curled in a sneer. "You truly understand nothing. Granger possesses the amount of restraint a Blast-Ended Skrewt has for its own tail." 

Miss Evans narrowed her eyes. "So just because she's smart and wants to participate in class, you felt the need to humiliate her in front of everyone?”  

“I was trying to illustrate a point. I did not care about the correct answer — she was the only bloody one of you that knew anything. Lupin is an imbecile.” 

“Yeah, you’ve only said it twenty-billion times.” she retorted, her eyes narrowing. “That’s what this is all really about, isn’t it? You can’t stand that Professor Lupin is a good teacher.” 

Whatever was left holding the last of Severus’ restraint — the frayed ends of his self-control that had gotten dangerously close to splitting in the Shack earlier that morning — finally broke. 

“No, Miss Evans,” Severus said softly. “Do you know what I can’t stand?” 

Her face hardened. “Go ahead. I reckon it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” 

Severus glared wildly at her. 

She glared wildly back. 

He continued to hover there, something scathing on his lips — the perfect thing to put her in her place — when she finally averted her eyes and turned, as though she could not bear to hold her head up any longer. 

The Occlumency had broken. 

Miss Evans’ face began to fill with something else — not anger — like a bathtub being filled to the brim, as her dark eyes began to shimmer. 

Severus felt his stomach plummet to his feet. He immediately straightened, jaw tightening as the girl grappled for her rucksack under her chair.

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Five: Parent Teacher Conferences

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x fem!OC (Alice Greene)

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a workaholic. Between teaching university courses, running the Kreizler Institute, and minding Stevie -his ward-, he does not have time for relationships. That is until he meets Ms. Greene, Stevie's English teacher, at open house. Can he open his heart to the possibility of love?

Word Count: 3,192

W: mentions of drinking, bullying/hazing

A/N: I unexpectedly had to go out of state for a week and then move into my on-campus apartment when I came back but in my time before classes started I got this finished :) Yeehaw senior year here I come

previous chapter

Although the university semester and the public school system did not line up exactly, there was enough overlap to swamp both Stevie and Laszlo in work. They were two sides of the same coin. Stevie worked his ass off studying and writing papers while Laszlo burned the midnight oil grading exams and essays. He almost fell asleep at his desk with his reading glasses on, trying to understand a student’s ill-conceived paper, when Stevie told him to call it a night.

Laszlo received an email from the school reminding parents, and guardians, the week after progress report cards the school would host a parent teacher conference night. He suspected it was to designate a night for all the overbearing parents to heckle the teachers after grades came back. After all, his office hours were always booked after midterms with crying freshmen begging for extra credit or another chance when they never did the reading to begin with. He always listened, some students had valid or extenuating circumstances, but he was better known for being unrelenting.

Stevie’s grades were excellent. Not valedictorian, but reflective of his work. Laszlo did not consider attending the conference until he received an email from Ms. Greene. 

Dear Dr. Kreizler,

I hope you are doing well, and I hope midterms have not overwhelmed you. As difficult as they are for students, I know grading is no walk in the park either. 

I’m sure you saw the school’s reminder about parent teacher conferences, but I wanted to personally invite you. I have some concerns about Stevie, and I would like to discuss them with you in person. If you are unavailable that night, please let me know and we can schedule another meeting. 

Thank you so much!

Ms. Alice Greene

Laszlo reflected on the last few weeks. In their weekly conversations, she mentioned she thought some of the students might be giving Stevie a hard time. He anticipated it would settle when the novelty wore off, but now he was not sure. Laszlo rearranged his schedule, ensuring he wouldn’t be stuck at the university or working at the Institute and miss the evening.

He asked Stevie if he would like to attend the conferences as well, not mentioning the email from Ms. Greene, but stating that if they were discussing him it was only fair for him to be present. Stevie declined and joked that with Doctor Kreizler there he had the best defense. Laszlo was glad Stevie still thought so, even in jest. Stevie’s only request was for him to bring back dinner after the conference. The refrigerator was empty after midterms, and he wanted to eat something other than eggs and toast. Laszlo laughed and promised to bring back whatever Stevie wanted. 

Apparently, Alice did not learn from her previous mistakes. At open house, the cookies she hand-baked and decorated were barely touched by the parents. And yet, she made cookies for the conferences. Alice decorated them like books, giving each of them a classic literature title, and arranged them on a cookie carrier. 

This far into the year, her classroom was not spotless and picturesque like it was at open house. She swept the floors again, finding half a dozen discarded pens and pencils, and rewrote the information she kept on the whiteboard. Parents and administrators loved to see objectives, standards, and assignments in clearly visible spaces. Looking around, she realized several of the desks never made it to their original places after their group discussions, so she rearranged them. A few desks positioned across from her desk would be suitable for the evening.

The first parent arrived with a sheepish student in tow, and she gestured for them to sit down and take a cookie. Neither did.

***

An hour later, Alice was dying for an iced coffee. She knew drinking one at this time would keep her awake half the night, but she needed something to make her smile. A few of her conversations were genuinely productive, exploring what she and the parents could do to better support the student, addressing her concerns, and building positive relationships. 

However, she had just as many discouraging conversations from parents insisting their child was right and she was incorrect. Bitsy warned her in a more affluent area the parents were more involved and typically more self-righteous, but her expectations did not match reality. They had the audacity to tell her all the ways she did her job incorrectly

She was tired, and she wanted to go home. Iced coffee wasn’t a strong enough drink, but she might settle for it on her drive home. 

Laszlo debated visiting Stevie’s other teachers. He performed well in their classes, and as far as he knew they had no matters to discuss with him. Still, since some of them were communicative with him when he emailed them, he decided to drop by a few classrooms. Laszlo kept his visits brief as he knew he was expected elsewhere. Additionally, he did not want the ice to melt in his surprise.  

“Are these the same recipes as before? 

“What?” Confused, Alice looked up from her desk. He stood by the cookies she no doubt painstakingly designed, and yet looked as if they hadn’t been touched all night. “Oh,” she smiled, “Dr. Kreizler.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Greene.” His sheepish smile was genuine. “I brought you a gift, but maybe I should call it a bribe in exchange for some of these cookies.” He set the iced coffee on her desk and sat down.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have let you take some home anyway.” She picked up the coffee and read the label. “Decaf? You are intuitive, Dr. Kreizler.” Alice reached into the minifridge behind her desk and grabbed the bottle of coffee creamer. Laszlo did not know how she took her coffee, so once he learned she kept supplies in her classroom he reasoned black was fine and she could sweeten it to taste.

His cheeks reddened, and he hoped it was not terribly noticeable. “I thought you would appreciate a pick me up without it keeping you awake.” She thanked him and urged him to take some cookies. Laszlo debated between them, knowing the flavor was the same, but there were implications based on the titles he chose. 

“Dracula and In Cold Blood. Interesting. I’m totally not judging you based on that now,” she laughed.

“As a literature teacher, what’s your formal determination?” Laszlo evaluated people professionally, and for fun, so he was curious about her opinion. 

“Well,” she took another sip of her coffee and smiled mischievously. He liked the way she crinkled her nose. “Dracula is a classic, and honestly underrated. It’s much more humorous than people think, and the original sotry is often overlooked. And In Cold Blood, well, you must be a true crime junkie. Based on a true story, but obviously dramatized. You probably researched the real case while reading and felt better for knowing the truth.”

Laszlo wiggled his eyebrows. Impressive. He took a bite of his sugar cookie. “And you? What books would you choose?” This was his opportunity to read her.

She checked her watch on her left wrist and playfully sighed. “I was saving these two until the end of the night, but I think you will be the last parent I see tonight.”

“I’m honored,” he demurred.

“And it’s only fair since I judged your taste,” she hesitated for suspense, “so I’ll take Pride and Prejudice and Count of Monte Cristo.”

Laszlo thought for a moment. Her first choice did not surprise him, but her second did. He grappled with the Count first. “The Count of Monte Cristo is complicated, and so are you. You enjoy unraveling plots, and you’re a sucker for a tragedy. As for Pride and Prejudice, you are a romantic, but with particular taste. You want to be swept off your feet as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, but that has not happened yet.”

He tended to push people too far, and Laszlo feared he was too blunt. Ms. Greene was taken aback, the nervous set of her mouth said that, but her eyes told him it was true. She stirred her drink with her straw and took another sip. 

“You’re very insightful, Dr. Kreizler.” She met his eye and held it. He never noticed the flecks of color and how they glimmered even under the fluorescent light. Laszlo wondered how she would look in warm light, candlelight, moonlight. A door slammed down the hall and broke them from their trance. “But, I think we should talk about Stevie.”

“Yes, of course. You’re right,” Laszlo agreed. He pulled a small notebook and pen from his suit jacket pen. At the top of a clean page, he wrote the date and “Conference — Stevie”.

“Stevie is doing well in class. I’m sure you know that from checking his grades and his progress report. That’s not what I’m concerned about, unless his grades start to drop, of course.” Laszlo took notes as she spoke. “I noticed that in my class at least, Stevie doesn’t have a solid group of friends. Which, some kids don’t and that’s completely fine, but there’s a group that has been antagonistic toward him.” His pen scratched to a stop.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Pretty much since the beginning of the year. I know it can be difficult when you don’t fit in—” Laszlo arched an eyebrow, but she ignored it. “— and I’ve spoken with him several times. I’ve done everything except go to administration which he expressed he does not want. However, if the situation escalates then I will have no choice.”

Laszlo sighed wearily. “I have noticed Stevie being quieter, less chatty, than before. On the other hand, he has been out of the house more, too, and I think he has friends in another class”

“I’m glad,” she said. “At least he has some support even if it’s in another class.”

“Stevie has support in your class. You’re an excellent teacher, and I appreciate you telling me what has happened. If you had not noticed, I don’t think anyone would. They lack your observational skills.” She blushed, remembering their earlier conversation. 

Having settled their official business, the conversation wandered again. She asked about his work at the university and the Institute, and he happily answered. Alice noticed his chest seemed to puff up with pride when he spoke about his students and he grew more animated. She enjoyed listening to him, and he made sure to reciprocate and ask her questions when appropriate. 

Alice soon finished her coffee, but she made no moves to leave her desk or pack her stuff. It was only Bitsy’s knock on the open door, and immediate regret, that made her realize how late it grew. Laszlo’s head whipped around at the knock.

“Just checking on you and letting you know I’m headed home. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Thanks, Bits. I’ll talk to you later.” While Laszlo was turned, Alice mimicked a phone by her ear, signaling Bitsy to call her later.

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you close friends with Ms. Sussman?”

“She’s my work wife, and before that, she was my school sister. Bitsy is the one who told me this school was looking for English teachers, so I have her to thank.” For more than just the job. Alice doubted she would have met Dr. Kreizler any other way.

“It’s good to have friends nearby. As much as John annoys me, I cannot imagine working without him.” He chuckled and glanced at the watch on his right wrist. “My, it’s grown late. You can’t have eaten if you’ve been here all night.”

“What do you mean?” She giggled. “You saw me eat these two cookies and drink this coffee. That’s my dinner.”

“That does not count as a meal.”

“Of course it does, when you count the half a dozen cookies I had between baking them and setting them out.”

He scoffed. “That is not a meal. Delicious, but not a meal,” Laszlo teased. “Would you like a late dinner and to continue our conversation?”

Alice froze. Laszlo’s piercing brown eyes never left her face even when she wished they would. Her cheeks flushed, and she knew if she spoke she would stammer. A million thoughts ran through her head, and she would trip over the words. Alice desperately wanted to accept. Laszlo was handsome, respectable, and polite. An excellent conversationalist, and he listened to her.

Conversely, he was a parent and she was his child’s teacher. It was a moral dilemma, and it must be a breach of ethics. If anyone knew, they could accuse her of favoriting Stevie at Dr. Kreizler’s request, or even worse exchanging sexual favors for better grades. Alice imagined the red tape they would have to go through to be together. 

She took a deep breath in before speaking. “I would like to accept, but I can’t.” The expectant smile disappeared from his face, and it tugged at her heart. “This isn’t a good night for me. I need to check on Georgie, and you need to get back home to Stevie.” He twitched at the mention of Georgie. Alice couldn’t resist a snicker. “Don’t worry, he’s not my boyfriend or anything. He’s my handsome tuxedo cat, and I fear what he will do if I don’t feed him dinner soon.”

Relieved, Laszlo chuckled. He was such a serious man that Alice liked seeing him laugh. She admired the crinkles by his eyes and the way he cracked a smile. His whole face scrunched. 

“Cats and children are not so different. I know Stevie is perfectly capable of making dinner, but I promised him I would pick something up on my way back.” He checked his watch again and stood. “It’s late, and I should leave.”

“Wait, Dr. Kreizler,” Alice scrambled for a post-it-note and pen. “Just because tonight isn’t a good night doesn’t mean I don’t want to have dinner with you.” She wrote her phone number in pink ink.

He blinked twice and accepted the sticky note. “Thank you.” His round cheeks flushed rosy red, and she found it adorable. “I will plan another night, and I should let you return home to Georgie.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Kreizler,” she grinned.

His brows pinched together in thought. “Please, call me Laszlo. There’s no need for such formalities.”

“It’s funny. I still want to call you Dr. Kreizler. Goodnight then, Laszlo.”

He entered the hallway, conscientious that half the lights were dimmed to denote the late hour. His leather messenger bag threatened to slip off his shoulder, but holding a paper plate of cookies he didn’t dare fuss with the bag. Laszlo glanced around for a desk or a table in the hallway to set them down so he could fix it, but instead, he found the blustering figure of Coach Connor.

Laszlo gave the coach an obligatory nod and continued on his way. He did not visit him during the conferences, and his absence was noted. Curious, Laszlo hesitated in the hallway. 

He heard Ms. Greene — Alice! — greeting the coach, and he noted the difference in her tone of voice. It was colder, more rigid and reserved, but still seemingly pleasant. However, Laszlo recognized the difference with a small smile. She wanted the conversation to end as quickly as she could. It was only a minute or two later that Coach Connor reappeared in the hallway, red-faced and grumbling. He became the target of his frustration. 

“Get the hell outta here, can’t you see it’s late?” Laszlo stepped back, but Coach Connor insisted on being in his face. “You shouldn’t be here.” Laszlo opened his mouth to protest, but when he did Coach Connor knocked the paper plate of cookies from his hand. He stormed off, but not before Laszlo could cut in with the final word.

“I see she didn’t offer you any, Coach. Perhaps there’s a reason why.” 

Once he was out of sight, Laszlo knelt to the ground to pick them up. He was not the type of man to leave a mess behind him, and he would hate for her to see them scattered on the floor when she left her classroom. 

***

Laszlo returned home with a box of pizza from Stevie’s favorite pizzeria. He sprung for garlic knots and extra marinara as a treat and poured himself a glass of wine. Stevie commented it was later than expected, considering the conferences ended at eight and it was going for ten now, but Laszlo insisted it was because of a big party at the pizzeria slowing down orders. Stevie shrugged, not pressing the matter, but clearly not believing him. He regarded Laszlo with a suspicious eye.

Laszlo ate and spoke normally, but the sticky note with her number burned a hole in his pocket. He thought about what he might text her, or if he should call her instead. Which restaurant would she prefer? If he went too formal would she be intimidated? But if he went more casual would she be disappointed? Laszlo knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he did not mind. 

Alice scratched Georgie’s ears. He purred while he ate, and he did not allow her to do anything else in her apartment until he fed her. She couldn’t set down her bag, slip off her shoes, or fill her water. Demanding, but her little darling, so she gave him his regular meal and a treat. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and sure enough Bitsy’s face covered the screen as her call came in. They shared locations once years ago trying to find the right café and never undid it. Now, Bitsy could tell precisely when Alice arrived home to ask about her evening. She spoke quickly and almost tripped over her words. 

“What happened with you and the doctor? And don’t you act coy with me or lie to me.”

“Well,” Georgie arched his spine as she ran her hand down his back, “he brought me another coffee, but it was decaf this time since it was evening. We talked about Stevie, of course, and you know my concerns about him.”

Bitsy cut her next sentence off. “You know that’s not what I want to know. Tell me what happened after!” 

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, knowing she had every ounce of Bitsy’s attention, “we talked for a long time, and he asked me to dinner. I said no—”

“—What?! Are you crazy?

“No to tonight, Bits, not to anything. I gave him my number so we could plan something for another night.”

“Thank God, you almost gave me a heart attack there.”

“I’m not stupid. Maybe a bit impulsive, or foolish even, but not stupid.” She thought for a minute, knowing she had been standing on the edge of a precipice. Alice took the plunge, giving him her number, and she knew everything would change. She just didn’t know how yet.

Next chapter

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[bhhstilinski]

Chapter 2 (cont)

The library stood out in the small town, a newer building against the old, concrete against the brick, wide against the thin. It was a few minutes’ walk away from the cluster of more central shops that housed stationery and trendy clothing. Although Annabeth loved the store offering a selection of planners and pens, her destination today was the library. She pulled into a parking space, noting the plethora of empty spots, and twisted the key to turn the car off, her music stopping abruptly.

Annabeth took her keys and phone from the front of the car, pulled her bag from the backseat, and locked it as she walked towards the front doors. Once inside, she made a beeline for the stairs, bypassing the children’s section. The bottom floor of the library featured tables with picture books on display, enticing young potential readers. Annabeth remembered getting her first library card and excitedly running around the building, collecting books from all the tables and shelves, curating a diverse taste from the moment she had the opportunity. She would read historical fiction, fantasy, mystery, and to the librarian’s surprise, books about architecture.

As Annabeth reached the top of the stairs, she surveyed the top floor. A few chairs were arranged around a table in front of her, all facing a fireplace with a TV above it. The TV silently advertised different events the library would be hosting over the next few weeks, including storytimes for little kids and an arts-and-crafts day. Beyond the sitting area there were rows of bookcases that held the selection of fiction for teens and adults. Individual seats with attached desks lined the wall of windows to Annabeth’s left, each seat closed off by a screen that made for a more private study space.

She continued past the fiction section and turned to the right before reaching the non-fiction area. Her footsteps muted by the carpet, Annabeth approached the study rooms. Each room offered a table with several chairs and a whiteboard on the wall, so this hall was a hotbed for high school students. Since it was still the beginning of the school year, Annabeth had her pick from plenty of open rooms. Each had a clear glass wall, making it easy to see if they were occupied. She chose the one at the end of the hall that featured a window on one wall.

Offloading her backpack onto one of the chairs, Annabeth glanced outside. The sky was a vibrant blue, with puffy white clouds skidding across it. She wished she could go for a hike through a park rather than buckle down over calculus homework, but the life of a senior was not one to be desired. Especially one with aspirations as high as Annabeth’s.

Despite not knowing which college she wanted to attend next year, Annabeth knew she wanted to do great things. Her dream was to design an entire city, using her knowledge of architecture to create a masterpiece. Whenever she visited a new place, she analyzed the features of its buildings and its layout, knowing she could improve upon it if given the chance. The second she’d had a space in her schedule, Annabeth had jumped at the opportunity to take the Architecture and Design course offered at Olympian High. It was her favorite class, and not just because it was one of the only times she got to see Emi during the school day. She was truly invested in learning as much as she could; one day she would prove herself to be the best architect the world had ever seen.

Unfortunately, this also meant she had to battle her way through calculus. Annabeth grabbed her dark blue math binder along with a pencil that had a sufficient amount of eraser left and set to work on the newest worksheet. As she analyzed graphs and completed equations, Annabeth thought longingly of the days when math worksheets simply required you to prove you could add two-digit numbers.

~flashback~

“Thank the gods!” Percy exclaimed, his gaze landing on Annabeth as she walked down the bus aisle. “I need your help on this worksheet.”

It was the end of the school day, and the sun shone through the window onto Percy’s face, giving him a golden hue. His curls seemed to glow, their beachy look enhanced by the late-summer lighting. Annabeth slid into his seat beside him and dropped her backpack on the floor. She leaned in to get a better look at the paper in Percy’s hands.

Columns of addition and subtraction problems lined the page. Annabeth could see Percy’s scribbled pencil marks on a few of the problems, noting where he needed to carry a number and guessing at the solution. “Oh, this is easy, come on Seaweed Brain. We just did one like this yesterday. Here,” she said, reaching for the pencil.

“Sorry if I don’t have a mind like a sponge like you do, Wise Girl,” Percy retorted, smiling. He held out his hand to give her the pencil. Annabeth took it, their fingers brushing, and pressed the worksheet against the back of the seat in front of them. She walked Percy through one of the problems and explained his mistakes on the questions he’d struggled with. By the time the bus reached Annabeth’s stop, there were only a few problems left.

She slid out of the seat and pulled her backpack with her, hooking her arms through the straps. Straying from their usual routine, Percy stood up with her.

“I should get off here with you,” he said earnestly.

Annabeth stared at him, contemplating. With the way he was turned now, the light sparked his blue eyes. She thought they bore a resemblance to the reflection of the sun’s rays on the surface of the Atlantic. “You’re not allowed to,” she reminded Percy. “I think the driver has to have a note from our parents or something.”

Percy shrugged. “So?” he said, grinning. Annabeth couldn’t help but smile back. She felt a very strong urge to pick up her backpack and follow the boy down the bus steps. “We need to finish the worksheet,” he urged her.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Annabeth said. She frowned when Percy’s grin fell from his face. “Get on your email at exactly five, and we can talk!” she offered.

“Okay,” he conceded, and she hurried down the bus aisle before the driver could pull away from her stop.

As the bus’s folding door squeaked and slammed shut behind her, Annabeth turned around. Her eyes scanned the windows, landing on Percy’s faint shape through the window. He waved to her, a simple goodbye that always made her happy. She lifted her hand and waved back as the bus lurched and drove away from the street corner.

~present day~

Annabeth pulled herself out of the memory, returning her focus to finding the limit of some equation on the paper in front of her. She found herself wishing a certain blonde-haired boy was still sitting beside her, offering a brain to bounce ideas off of and promising to email her. It was ridiculous. They had phones now anyway, and his number was blocked, although her calendar still alerted her to his birthday every year. She always found herself annoyed by the notification, but for some reason never turned it off.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Annabeth’s phone chimed. She knew by its tone that the text was from Emi. The smile that this revelation brought was dimmed by the remembrance that she’d given Percy’s messages a unique sound once, too.

Annabeth opened the text and paused her music to play the voice message from Emi, which detailed a disturbing occurrence of a rat hiding behind a box. She shot a sympathetic message back and returned to her homework, mentally cursing herself for taking calculus instead of statistics, the other AP math option. But as Annabeth worked her way towards the bottom of the page, her mind drifted back to her former friend, once again questioning herself and what she had done wrong that had led to the emptiness of the seat to her right.

[priestessofspiders]

My Son's Reflection Is Wrong

I have always been afraid of mirrors, ever since I was a young child. I knew it was irrational of course. I never was afraid when I would see my reflection in a puddle or on the darkened window of a shop as I walked down the street. It was specifically mirrors which made me uncomfortable. I always feared that I would see something other than myself looking back at me.

This explains why I was less than thrilled to find the large, antique silver mirror in the bedroom of the house I was renting. Were it my own place I would have thrown it out then and there, leaving it on the curb and relying solely upon the mirror in the modern and well-kept bathroom for all necessary reflective purposes. Alas, I didn't think my landlord would think too highly of his tenant tossing out expensive antique furniture, so I contented myself to simply move it into a spare room.

I had moved to the house for the simple reason that it was fairly cheap and I didn't have much other choice. My husband passed away earlier that year due to a heart condition, leaving me simultaneously a widow and solely responsible for the care of my son, Chester. Fortunately, my husband's life insurance policy turned out to be reasonably generous, but I still needed to downgrade our living situation if I was to take care of Chester without another source of income. Beyond the obvious fact that I have now been left to raise a child without the assistance of a spouse, there is another reason why I cannot supplement my funds by taking on a job; Chester is autistic.

I want to make it very clear, I'm not an "Autism Mom". I loathe the self-absorbed whiners who spend every spare second complaining about the immense burden of raising an autistic child, who bellyache endlessly about how difficult their lives are. I hate all the videos of exasperated parents recording their child's meltdown on camera, to show to all the world how difficult it is for them. I am disgusted whenever I see some selfish moron recommend ABA "therapy" to keep unruly autistic children's more unconventional behaviors in check. My son is not a cross to bear, not a weight on my shoulders. He is my child, and I love him.

I won't deny it can be difficult sometimes, but I can only imagine how hard it is for him. I find the terms "high functioning" and "low functioning" are relatively useless descriptors. Like most things in life, it is a tad more complicated than that. Chester is, generally speaking, nonverbal, and I've never known him to say more than 20 words in a single day. In addition, he tends to get overstimulated quite quickly from loud noises, and often flaps his hands as a form of stimming, especially when he is having some difficulty expressing what he wants. The only behavior of his which ever actually frustrates me is his elopement, which in the context of autism means that he has a tendency to wander off or run away whenever he feels stressed. We work around these traits, and I think generally I've been able to make life quite comfortable for him.

Chester has always shown quite an aptitude for reading and writing, despite his relatively young age of only 9 years old at the time we moved. When he needed something that cannot be articulated through gestures or single words, he would write it down on a whiteboard I've given him for this purpose. To help with his sensory issues regarding loud noises, I purchased a set of ear plugs for him, the same sort that one would wear at a gun range to prevent hearing loss. These generally aren't necessary within the confines of the house, but on those occasions when we do go out in public, I genuinely think they help him quite a bit.

Given his condition, combined with the relative isolation of our new rural home, it has been necessary to homeschool Chester, though that hasn't really been any sort of a problem. Before I got married I spent a few years teaching elementary school, so I already have the required skills. I've always believed in a somewhat more active approach to learning than some of my peers, and since our new home is located directly next to a forest, this was fairly easy to accomplish.

The house itself was rather old, built in the 1920s if my landlord was to be believed. While recently renovated to a more modern standard at some point in the preceding decades, it still has an air of oldness to it, something in the angles and general structure of the place. The main feature that seemed significantly out of place was the wrought iron fence that surrounded the house, a far cry from the traditional wooden fence I was used to from a life in the suburbs. There was no formal gate that led out to the forest behind the house, just a gap in the fencing with a small pile of rusting iron posts nearby. I never asked the landlord about it, but judging by a stump outside the boundaries of the backyard, I assumed a tree must have fallen down and damaged it.

Children don't want to sit still and be lectured, they want to be outside, to run around and be active. I'd always try to teach Chester his lessons in a way that connected to the forest. I'd lift up logs and show him all the squirming creatures underneath so I could teach him all the differences between them. I'd have him count the rings of a fallen tree and teach him about the things that happened in the tree's long and storied life. I know that sometimes he would get bored, while I do believe kids love learning, I'm not an idiot. I know that sometimes children just want to run and play, but I genuinely do believe he got more out of our lessons in the woods than he would have gotten from a traditional school environment.

Even outside of the context of Chester's lessons, we spent a lot of time in those woods, slipping out through the gap in the fence into the forest beyond. There was something so peaceful about that place, it felt remarkably untouched by the civilization that bordered it. I'm not sure exactly how far the forest extended, but it always seemed to go on forever, like if you just kept walking you could go the whole rest of your life surrounded by trees. I always kept a fairly close eye on Chester when we were out there. As much as I loved the place, I did often worry that he would simply run off, but there was never anything stressful enough in the woods to make him do so. The only real concern was to make sure he took of his shoes once he got back to the house, as otherwise he would track dirt inside, making quite the mess.

Things went on the way I described them for about a year after my husband's passing. In between my caring for Chester and all the mundane errands of modern life, I attended therapy and worked to move on from the loss. I began to make peace with the fact that he was gone. Chester and I celebrated his 10th birthday out in the woods, moving to the backyard once night fell so we could finish off the evening roasting hot dogs over the firepit while I read him some relatively tame ghost stories. Chester didn't like scary movies or violent video games, but gently spooky stories, the sort that send a pleasant chill down your spine, made him quite happy. I believe I was reading out The Mezzotint to him when we heard the music.

It was a soft, strange sound, a faint piping emanating out from the forest beyond, gentle yet eerie somehow. The faint notes reminded me of the sound of panpipes, but not quite. If I listened very closely, I could almost discern a faint drumming as well. Chester looked out into the darkness beyond the fire, flapping his hands gently. He didn't seem upset or scared, just faintly awestruck. "Fairies", I heard him whisper.

I felt somewhat uncomfortable as we both looked out into the blackness of the forest. The sound of crickets had died utterly as soon as the piping began, and we sat in silence, listening to that peculiar and otherworldly performance. It felt like something out of a dream, and I don't think it would be possible for me to recall the melody in any real detail. It was ephemeral somehow, slipping through the cracks of my memory like water through a sieve even as I listened.

At some point the music ceased, and the crickets returned to their chirping. I led Chester back inside and tucked him gently into bed. I've never been especially afraid of intruders, given how far away we were from any major population center, but that night I double checked that all the doors and windows in the house were firmly locked.

- - -

I didn't sleep well that night. I'll admit I'd still not gotten used to sleeping alone, and often had difficulty falling asleep, but this felt different somehow. It seemed that whenever I was close to finally falling unconscious, I'd see a shadow pass across the wall, or hear something just on the very edge of my perception, something that reminded me faintly of music. Whenever I'd jolt up in bed, looking or listening for what I thought had disturbed me, there was nothing there. At some point I must have finally fallen asleep, because found myself blinking out the daylight from my uncovered window, groggy and irritable. My skull throbbed with a terrible headache. My alarm clock hadn't gone off, it seemed to have become unplugged in the night. Possibly in my tossing and turning the cord had somehow come out of the socket.

It was in the late morning, far later than I usually woke up, and Chester was frustrated because he hadn't had breakfast yet. He didn't say anything, but he seemed glum and looked at me with justifiable annoyance and hunger. I did my best to prepare him some scrambled eggs and bacon, but in my pain and fatigue I managed to burn the bacon and cook the eggs to an unpleasant, rubbery consistency. I deeply regret what happened next.

I swore about the bacon, the eggs, the pan, the stove, the landlord, my dead husband, anyone and anything that could conceivably be even somewhat to blame for the ruined breakfast. I know it was wrong to react like that in front of my son, I know it was immature, but I was tired, in pain, and just wished desperately I could go back to bed.

When I'd finished with my profanity-laced rant, I heard the back door closing and looked out the window to see Chester fleeing out into the forest, visibly distressed.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, and ran out the door after him, calling for him to come back. I tripped on one of the fallen iron fence posts and fell to the ground, knocking the air from my lungs. When I recovered enough to stand up, Chester was long gone, vanished among the trees.

I looked through those woods for hours. As I've described earlier, I don't know how large the forest behind my house is, but it still feels odd that in all that time I never saw him. Chester's only 10 years old, he isn't some sort of Olympic sprinter, and the foliage isn't so thick that I could have lost him that easily. I kept wandering among the trees, shouting out Chester's name with increasing panic. Sometimes I thought I'd hear a branch snapping or a child's giggle, and I would turn about, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the sound's source, but there would be nothing there. It was fairly far along in the afternoon when I finally decided to head back and call the police.

Despite how long I'd spent in the forest, it was a remarkably quick walk back to the house. It felt almost as if the walk into the woods was somehow further than the walk out. I opened the door and started moving to the bedroom to get my phone, when I suddenly saw Chester sitting on the couch, reading a book.

I nearly wept with relief and rushed to hug him, apologizing over and over for scaring him and asking if he was okay. I was so happy to see my son again I wasn't even angry with him for running off.

"I'm alright mom. I'm really sorry for running off, I was just scared. I won't do that again, please don't be angry" said Chester, tears welling up in his eyes.

I froze.

Chester rarely spoke more than a single word at a time. His longest sentences I could remember before this were maybe 3 or 4 words long at most. This was utterly unprecedented, and I had no idea how to react whatsoever.

"Mom? Are you okay?" he asked, looking at me with a confused look on his face.

- - -

The next week went by very strangely. To be very clear, autism isn't something that just goes away. It's not a disease, it's not something that can be "cured". And yet, Chester no longer showed any signs of his previous behavior whatsoever.

His personality seemed intact. The sort of things he now spoke aloud seemed relatively in keeping with the sentences he would have previously written on the whiteboard. He still had the same love of reading, the same interest in ghost stories, he still played with the same toys. In all respects he was the exact same boy as before, simply now he was neurotypical.

He didn't have to wear earplugs out in public anymore, and true to his word he never ran off when under stress. He didn't even flap his hands, he just kept them calmly at his sides. It was totally surreal.

One day I was teaching him his lessons out in the woods, and he told me "Mom? I think I want to go to regular school. I want to be with the other kids." I was completely taken aback. Chester had never showed even the slightest interest in going to a public school before this, and on the few occasions he'd had to interact with other children, he'd been far too shy to play with them. Of course I told him I'd be happy to send him to school, what else was I supposed to say? That night I sent off emails to the nearest schools in the area, asking about late enrollment.

It was the second week after Chester's sudden and unprecedented transformation that I began to notice something else that was strange. Despite the fact that we were spending a decent amount of time outside in the woods, Chester never left any dirty footprints in the house anymore. It wasn't that he had suddenly become more careful about taking his shoes off, he was still running inside with his sneakers on the same as he always had, but there was never any dirt or mud. I just assumed at the time he must have been wiping his shoes off while I wasn't looking, and in all honesty I didn't pay it much mind. It's only in retrospect, knowing what I do now, that this sticks out in my mind.

He also didn't eat very much anymore. He didn't snack at all, and whenever I prepared him his meals, he only ate very small portions. He never showed any signs of weakness or that he was losing weight, so I didn't bother him about it, there would be no point in forcing him to eat more than he wanted to, but it did strike me as very odd.

It wasn't until the incident with the mirror that I realized that it wasn't my son.

I was looking for some books I'd packed away in cardboard boxes in the spare room. There wasn't a lot of space on the bookshelf in the living room, so I tended to switch out the books on a semi-regular basis for ones kept in the spare room, aside from a handful of mainstays. It was while I was doing so that Chester walked over to the doorway and asked me where I had put his toy robot. I looked up from what I was doing to answer him, when I caught something out of the corner of my eye, something deeply wrong. It was the old silver mirror, pointed towards the doorway. It wasn't reflecting my son.

I turned to look closer, my words dying on my lips as I gazed at the figure in the mirror, the old terror I'd always felt looking into such things resurfacing suddenly and violently.

The thing was dressed in Chester's clothes, but that was about the only real resemblance the thing bore to him. It was a crude marionette, carved from untreated and unpainted wood, clumps of bark still clinging to it in places. The mouth had a jaw like that of a ventriloquist dummy, albeit with crooked teeth made from sharp flints jammed into the wood. I saw bits of old food stuck to the teeth and mouth, remnants of meals I had cooked earlier in the day. The eyes were simple holes with bits of colored glass, like marbles, held within. It was suspended above the ground by an inch or two by thick brown twine, like the sort one would use to close a package in days before packing tape.

I stared in stunned silence at the mirror before turning around, only to find Chester standing there, head cocked slightly in confusion. "Are you okay mom?" he asked, with concern in his voice. I turned once again to the mirror, seeing the horrible puppet thing once again. I wanted to vomit as I watched its jaw work up and down mockingly. "I'm sorry, I'll find it myself, I didn't mean to bother you" it said, before jerkily "walking" down the hallway to Chester's bedroom.

- - -

That night I watched "Chester" carefully in the bathroom mirror when he brushed his teeth, but there didn't seem to be anything strange about him at all. He moved like a person, not a puppet, and when I gently squeezed his shoulder I felt flesh and bone underneath the fabric of his clothes, not hard wood and bark.

I didn't sleep. Creepy as it may sound, I just sat in Chester's room and watched that thing lay in bed, snoring. It seemed to be asleep. I stayed there all night, just watching, until it woke up the next morning, asking me what I was doing. I didn't respond, and left without making breakfast. It's not like it would have needed it.

I wasn't even sure where I was going at first, I was just driving to clear my head. I eventually realized I was en route to an antique store the next town over. I'd visited the store a few times before, looking for bits of furniture and the like immediately after moving. I didn't know why I was headed there now, but it felt almost as if I were being drawn there somehow. I pulled into the parking lot and left my car, pushing through the shop's door with the tinkling of a bell.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, I just wandered the store in a daze, looking around all the various bits of junk and knick knacks with disinterest. The whole store reeked of musty books and wood polish, the smell lulling me into a sort of trance as I meandered among the shelves stacked with discarded history. Eventually though, I found something that struck my eye. It was a small old hand mirror with the telltale tarnishing of real silver. It seemed to call to me somehow, and in my numbed state I didn't even fear the blank-eyed reflection that looked back at me. I picked it up and looked at the price tag. 50 dollars. More than it was worth, but not too unreasonable. I picked it up and brought it to the counter, paying in cash.

The store's proprietor, a thin old woman with graying hair and enormous spectacles, chuckled at me as she rang me up. "Planning on making a vampire hunting kit ma'am?" she asked.

"What?" I replied, the completely bizarre question startling me out of my stupor.

"Just a little joke. Halloween's coming up, and once a few years back I had a gentleman come in here and buy up all sorts of strange stuff. I asked him what he needed it for, and he told me he was going to dress up as Abraham van Helsing for the occasion. He said he was making a vampire hunting kit. One of the items he bought was an old hand mirror, rather like this one. He asked me if it was real silver, and I told him yes, but asked why that mattered, I figured silver was always the sort of thing one would use for werewolves, not vampires. He told me that the reason why vampires didn't show their reflections in mirrors was that in the old days they were made of silver, and that silver was a symbol of purity. He said that if vampires were real and walking about nowadays, they'd be reflected back just fine, since nearly all modern mirrors are made with aluminum. Doesn't tarnish I suppose."

My mind flashed to "Chester" brushing his teeth in the bathroom mirror, face as normal as could be reflecting back at me, before recalling the terrifying thing I'd seen in the old silver mirror. The old woman must have noticed me go pale, she asked me if I was alright. I nodded and left with the mirror, driving back home.

I got back at around lunchtime, and the thing that pretended to be my son asked me if I was okay, and if we would be having lunch soon. I angled the mirror so I could see its face, and saw that crude puppet mouth wagging in vague time with its speech. I told it to wait at the dinner table, and that I would be with it in a few minutes. It did as I said, sitting down and pretending to read a book with its glass eyes.

I reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out a pair of butcher's scissors. With the scissors in one hand and the hand mirror in the other, I walked up behind the puppet thing, carefully angling the mirror so I could see where the strings connected to its wooden body. I looked to see where the strings led, to see if I could get a glance at the puppeteer, but it just seemed to extend impossibly into the ceiling, passing through the plaster like a fishing line through water.

It didn't notice what I was doing until I'd already cut the first string, one connected to its left arm. It screeched in what sounded like pain, a horrible distorted cry that was a mix of mad piping and a child's scream. It swiped at me with the right arm, but I was too fast for it. After all, it was only wood and strings, and I was alive. I cut the other arm free, and both now fell limp at its sides. Next I went for the legs, snipping the strings both in quick succession. Glancing up from the mirror, I saw what looked like my son floating in the air slightly, mouth wide open as it screamed. I cut the strings connected its jaw and head, and the thing collapsed to the floor in a silent heap. The illusion had been broken, and all that lay before me was a broken puppet. Far away in the distance, I could hear the sound of pipes playing faintly in the woods, a haunting melody which I cannot quite recall.

- - -

I knew I couldn't go to the police with any of this. Who would believe a woman who claimed that her son had been replaced by a puppet? I'd be institutionalized at best, arrested for child abuse at worst, and that's assuming they ever managed to find the real Chester. I spent the rest of the day frantically researching on the internet, typing inane phrases like "child replaced puppet music pipes" or "puppet mirror child double" into the search engine, getting almost nothing useful in response, until eventually I came across some old website detailing European folklore. Specifically, the page on changelings.

I read about medieval peasants convinced their children had been replaced with those of fairies, how their real children had been taken to the woods to be raised by the monsters which stole them. I read of the ways one could protect oneself from the so-called "fair folk", of their hatred of iron. I remembered the wrought iron fence that surrounded the house, the conspicuous gap where a tree must have broken through as it fell.

I've written this in case I don't come back. I've written this so that if I'm never found, they don't think I just performed a murder-suicide in the woods out of grief. I love my son dearly, and I am going to save him from the monsters that took him from me. I can hear the hideous music of their eldritch pipes drifting through the trees, mocking me. I'm taking one of the broken iron posts with me. The tip is sharp as a spear.

[ruporas]

hi!! it's the anon with massive brainrot that spammed 3 fat asks at once <3

i'm so so so happy that u responded to all my ramblings so earnestly. and in DEPTH. that last rant u had about the nature of vashwood and how they view each other and their insecurities and all that... it took me forever to read cuz i kept stopping to just Sit and Think About It

but u also asked about that spotlight metaphor i mentioned and. it's bad lmfao

i was actually thinking about in 98 trigun where wolfwood takes a very permanent vacation. i'd remembered a kind of spotlight effect on him during that scene, and looking it up just now i realize it was cuz one of the church windows cast this warm square of light over him

so my memory was slightly off- i'd thought it was more of an actual spotlight- but i lost my mind when i thought you might've been referencing it for some reason. i didn't wanna bring it up tho cuz i figured i was wrong, and evidently i was lol

anywho, YAY LOST PAGE RECOVERY! kind of honored that i accidentally dug it up

bound to want still reads surprisingly smooth despite the fact it was missing a whole page tho. i never would've known if you didnt say anything. ETERNALLY happy i have it now, of course- it's beautiful and i adore the composition <3 it speaks so strongly to the atmosphere and what's going on

side note: would it be ok if i messaged u to talk about vashwood more? cuz i can Seriously ramble nonstop but i feel like im annoying your other followers lol (it's like i have everyone cuffed to desks as i aggressively slap a whiteboard with bound to want pasted on it)

i just. want to praise your work so Bad. i notice so many little things and it gets swept under the rug so much cuz an anon ask can only get so obnoxious haha.

but yeah! thanks sm for bein so amazing. i hope school goes well for you so u can thrive with vashwood this summer <3

(also i SAW that tag about bonus content. i Saw it. i'm Thinking about it)

OHHHHHH I understand what you mean by that though! It makes sense to me to presume that considering the confetti notes haha, but yeah, just one reference to his permanent vacation and it's in the confetti!!

BUT WAH, thank you so much again for your kind kind words!!! Yes, feel free to message me whenever, I always welcome it. It'll definitely take me some time to respond because life and I also like to sit down with a response and have the proper coherency to respond with my full attention and stuff. It's an honor to hear about detail analysis about my work so!!! I welcome it, thank you so so much!!!

[celestialvexation-arch]

I'm so tried of people talking shit about urban spook because he has csa and called the Cory painting f-toy like yeah that's the point the killer is fucked up and deranged of course he is gonna do horrible shit people don't look at books written by police officers who write about Serial killer and go "your disgusting for including SA or CSA all for shock value" they also bring up Urbans past about making a gross animation with a bad joke

yeah, i still can't believe people can't wrap their heads at the villain they're reading / watching about is a fictional character that's genuinely a disgusting and deranged villain. the majority of villains are either bbygirls, saturday morning bad guys, or an egomaniac god wannabe lmao. or around these areas that people can easily be attached too lmao

i don't understand why people even bring up the animations to begin with cause not only are they 10+ years old, but it's far from being the worst shit you'd find on the internet like on newgrounds -- much less youtube when back then, you had two girls one cup, one guy one jar, fucking pedo bear, and even vids with straight up beheadings, executions, and torture from cartels and terrorist groups

attacking someone cause of old school animations with edgy humor or tasteless jokes, or even using that as "evidence", doesn't even have grounds to stand on since...they're just that lmao. just stupid shit that was doodled and all on digital journals that's like drawing dicks or big titted ladies on the teacher's whiteboard

[moonchild-things]

Chapter Seventeen: Formidable Opponents

Summary: Shōyō Hinata loves volleyball! There is no doubt that all he really thinks about is volleyball. His sister, however, isn’t the same way. Sakura is ready to start her first year of high school at Karasuno with her twin brother and doesn’t really want to do anything, unlike Shōyō. Though she can’t help it when she gets dragged into the antics of the volleyball club.

Word Count: 8792

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---

TO SAY THAT THE KARASUNO CROWS WERE fired up about their upcoming tournament was an understatement. After their game against Nekoma and their training camp, just about everyone had kicked it into high gear to start work on their practicing. They all worked to improve their spikes, blocks, and, of course, their receives.

Currently, Ukai was spiking balls at the team to work on their receives. "Follow-through when you block! Staring won't cut it!"

Shōyō grunted and got back onto his feet, "Sorry, Sir!"

"You must go after every ball as though it's your last!" He hit yet another ball at Shōyō, who tried his best but was unable to save it despite his dive. "'Cause if you don't, the ball you ignored will be the ball you cry over at the end of the game!"

Sakura laid out on the ground by the wall, a book in her hands. It seemed to be a literature book, most likely one that Takeda recommended to her at some point. She seemed to be a bit more invested in the book that she was reading than watching the boys practice. After all, she's seen the guys do this stuff all the time. So reading seemed like the ideal thing to pass the time. Though as she was reading her literature book, she thought back to the discussion that she had seen the night they all got back from the training camp.

---

After the training camp and their journey back to Miyagi, the Karasuno team were all gathered around their coach and club advisor as they stood before them. Sakura was sitting behind Ukai and Takeda near the whiteboard, though she was still listening in on their conversation. Once again, it's not like she had much else to do. All she can do is just sit around and wait for the practice to end so she can head home with her brother.

"Everyone," Takeda clapped his hands, "well done playing against Nekoma today! So getting right down to business, the Inter-High preliminaries begin next month, starting June 2nd."

Ukai nodded his head, "Miyagi has no regional prelims, so we launch straight into prefectural. Only one team out of approximately 60 in a prefecture proceeds to the nationals. Lose once, that's all she wrote. If you want revenge against Nekoma you must by becoming first in Miyagi. Second won't cut it. Although there's the small issue of them pulling their own weight to represent Tokyo."

"Don't worry!" Tanaka called out, "I know they can do it!"

"Yeah, they were tough!" Nishinoya agreed as they huffed through their noses.

Endo nodded his head and smirked, "That cat captain doesn't seem to be the slacker type, he'll get his team there." Sitting beside him, Asahi didn't appear too happy to have his friend mention Kuroo yet again.

The team all talked about what's to come now that they have the preliminaries to look forward to. Soon enough their practices will have to ramp up quite a bit. They'll have to focus a lot more if they wish to make the cut for the tournaments after all, though it seems like Ukai would push them far enough to get there.

Sakura knew that going to the practices was going to annoy her quite a bit. Waking up in the morning is already a hassle. She hasn't even worked up the nerve to tell Shōyō that she'd rather sleep in and ride her bike to school on her own instead of watching his practice. On one hand, she doesn't like waking up so early. On the other hand, she quite likes getting to see how happy Shōyō gets that she's there. So it's a bit of a toss-up whether or not she would want to be involved in this. Though that's the usual internal debate that she has every once in a while. Nothing totally new for her.

They all started to clean up the gym now that they were finished with their practice and discussion. Eventually, Endo's phone rang, and he left with only a wave over his shoulder. The call dampened his mood far too much for him to even give them all a proper goodbye. It also caused him to leave early, to the chagrin of just about everyone else.

"Hey! Where does that stuck-up prick think he's going?" Tanaka, one of those more than annoyed to see him go, scoffed as they all watched Endo walk out with the phone plastered to his ear. Even though he waved at them while departing, he was more focused on his phone call. "We've still got cleaning to do!"

From the way that Endo's mood had suddenly changed, he could only assume that the call he got was not a pleasant one. Most likely having to do with his father. Asahi sighed, anxiety starting to build up in his chest for his friend. "I think you should just let him go for now." Asahi has more than enough knowledge of the Endo family to know the animosity between them. Joji's mother is an angel and Asahi likes her a lot. Joji and his mother also have a pretty good relationship together. It's Joji and his father who have the fractured relationship that Asahi is more than aware of. That's who he's worried about with Joji at the moment.

Nishinoya tilted his head questioningly, "Huh? Why?" If anything, he'd think Asahi would be the most curious about what Endo had become so worked up about enough to leave so suddenly.

"I'm not sure," Suga spoke up as he picked up a volleyball, also a bit apprehensive about their friend's sudden departure. "But I didn't like that expression on his face."

Shōyō jumped in after finishing his race with Kageyama. Who won that race isn't exactly clear since both of the boys would loudly declare themselves the winner. "Yeah, it kind of looked like he ate a whole lemon that was super sour."

"Leave him alone," Sakura rolled her eyes and yawned, "are you done? I want to get enough sleep tonight."

---

The way that Endo left was suspicious to Sakura, but she wouldn't pry into his business. Unlike her twin, she can keep her nose out of places that she didn't need to be. If anything, she's more focused on how Shōyō is going to act now. After the other night, she knew that her brother was going to start pushing himself even further for the tournament. Oh, how she's looking forward to that.

It seemed like her brother was also lost in thought, most likely about the other day as well. He didn't receive the ball that was spiked at him which caused him to fall to the ground. "Nice one, Hinata-kun!" Ukai called, "Get back on your feet! One more!"

"Yes, Sir!" The boy shouted and hopped back to his feet like a spring, "Thank you, Sir!"

After a few more hours, practice finally came to a standstill. All the boys started to get their things together and wind down after such a productive practice. The only thing that was really missing was Endo and his annoying commentary or comments to his friends. It was quite a mystery where he was, really the only ones who knew where the blonde was were the third-years. Though it was obviously a personal issue, so it's not like they were just going to tell everyone where exactly Endo was. It was something they knew was a touchy subject.

Currently, Sakura was handing her brother a towel and water bottle. Meanwhile, she made some short, sarcastic comments towards Kageyama who was growing more than annoyed with her. "You're right, that is cool!" Nishinoya exclaimed, drawing the first-years attention to him, "That photo is huge!"

Tanaka nodded his head, "Right?"

Asahi approached them and bent down to take a look at the magazine that the libero was holding, "Let me see." Though he gasped once he got a good look at the photo that Nishinoya held up to him.

Shōyō, Sakura, and Kageyama walked over to the group that was sitting on the ground curiously. "What is it?" Shōyō asked, "What's up?"

"Looky." Tanaka held up his magazine to show the curious first-years, "These guys are this year's three to watch high school boys! They've made Ushiwaka from Shiratorizawa one of the three players to watch in this year's Nationals." Sakura peeked over his shoulder to get a good look at the photo. What stared back at her was a photo of one of the most intimidating boys she has ever seen. He has olive-colored eyes that were scowling at the camera with brown hair. To her, he appeared to be quite the intense type of guy. If she really concentrated, she could vaguely remember Ushijima being mentioned when she had gone to tour at Shiratorizawa. Though she didn't really think much of it since it was a school she didn't really intend on going to. Still, she thought that this Ushijima, the "miracle boy", was obviously quite a strict-looking guy.

Shōyō marveled at the photo and the school that the boy played at, "This is the school Kageyama didn't get into and imouto didn't go to."

Kageyama's eyes twitched, "Shut up!",

He disregarded him and tilted his head, "So, who's Ushiwaka?"

"Don't you know?" Tanaka asked.

Suga chuckled and explained, "The only player Hinata-kun cares about is the Tiny Giant."

"That's an understatement," Sakura mumbled and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tanaka shook his head, "Ushiwaka is… currently the hands-down the number 1 ace in the prefecture. Wakatoshi Ushijima."

Their captain also came over to take a look at what they were all fussing over. "Yeah, now this is what a real ace should look like." Daichi then glanced over at their own ace with a deadpan expression.

Asahi started to sweatdrop, "Hey, why are you looking at me?" Poor guy, Sakura thought as Nishinoya walked over to the bearded teen to pat him on the back in comfort.

Suga looked up at the younger setter of the team, "Kageyama, you tried to go to his school, right?"

"Let me guess!" Tanaka started to laugh. "You wanted to tell this Super High School Level ace 'Move faster, you klutzy shit!' to his face?"

Sakura snickered at both the thought that the setter would do that and Tanaka's impression of the gloomy king. Oh, she's certain that he would try to do that with his arrogant personality and all.

Kageyama bristled, "I would never!" He then turned and glared harshly at the sniggering girl beside him. Sakura just continued to laugh as her brown irises glittered in amusement.

Shōyō didn't seem to be paying that much attention around him. His large eyes solely looked over the photo and article that talked about Shiratorizawa and their star player. "We need to defeat them to play against Nekoma."

"Whoa there!" Ukai then walked on over to them all, "Shiratorizawa isn't the only good school team out there."

All of the boys then came to crowd around their coach. Suga asked him, "Do you mean last year's best four, Sir?"

"Obviously, but there are also other good teams this year." The old blonde said, pulling out a paper from his pocket. "Like Wakutani South, which has excellent defense and solidarity. Date Tech, the team summed up with the term 'Iron Wall'. Their team has higher blocks than any other. Isn't Date Tech the team we lost 2-0 to in the Prefectural Public Tournament this March?" Sakura raised an eyebrow at the description of Date Tech. Ah, the team that beat them and ended with two teammates leaving. Hopefully, they don't have a repeat of that. The last thing this team needs is for not only a loss, but also their teammates giving up again."Their second-year, Aone, is the one to look out for. Date Tech has always been a best four level team, but last year they ended up the best 16 tier in round three against the tournament winners, Shiratorizawa. That's why they aren't seeded this year. What this means is depended on their pairings it's possible to be matched against them in round one. Next up, is… oh, right. I'm told you held a practice game with them not long ago." Kageyama gasped at the mention of Aoba Johsai, "Their setter is Number 1 on their team for offensive power. He is also an excellent setter. He is possibly the best all-around top player in the prefecture. Toru Oikawa, the leader of Aoba Johsai."

"The Great King!" Shōyō bristled.

Sakura clicked her tongue at the reminder of the boy. His personality just rubbed her the wrong way. Sure, she can admit that he's a talented player and leader for his team. However, he was still a prick. His talent doesn't make up for the way that he annoys her so much.

"These are last year's best four."

Tanaka was growling at the reminder of the annoying team, especially Oikawa, "Damn!"

"Last, but obviously not least, Super High School Level ace, Wakatoshi Ushijima commanding Shiratorizawa. That's about it. I'll explain more details later." Suga and Daichi both had the same thought about how Ukai wasn't as much of a slob as they first thought. Their flowery expressions caught the attention of their coach, "Are you two thinking something rude about me right now?" Both boys shook their heads rapidly as Ukai got serious again, "Anyway, that's my personal prediction for this year's toughest four. That being said, if you keep staring up at the top, you'll get the rug pulled out from under you. No team in the tournament is there to lose. They are all there to win. All the while we're training with everything we've got, the others will be training with everything they've got as well. Previous winners and losers alike are all aiming for victory. Don't forget that. Also, do not allow them to call us 'The Clipped Crows' ever again!"

All the boys chorused together, "Yes, Sir!"

Sakura was a bit surprised, Wow, he can actually give good advice it seems. And it was extremely good advice. They shouldn't focus on their possible future opponents and lose sight of who they were facing first. If they did think about Shiratorizawa too much they might end up losing to Date Tech or Aoba Johsai because of it.

The door to the gym then suddenly burst open as Takeda came in. He started at the group in surprise. "You're all still here? Sorry I'm late! I was stuck in a meeting." He approached the group and pulled out a piece of paper with a bracket on it. "Anyway… I've got it! I've got the pairings for the Inter-High preliminaries!"

Everyone grew anxious and giddy to see just who was in their bracket for the tournament. They all quickly tried to peer at the paper, even Tsukishima seemed interested. Though Sakura wasn't that interested as she lazily blinked. She may have been interested in who they were playing but she wasn't the one actually on the team. It's not like she has any insight on the other teams anyway since she doesn't know much about them besides the basics.

Though their sharp eyes all saw just who they were up against for the first round. Of course, that wasn't the most alarming part, it was who they might possibly play in round two that really caught their attention. "If we make it through round one, and Date Tech does the same, we'll be matched against them in round two," Nishinoya observed.

"That's not all," Tsukishima drawled out, "Aoba Johsai is seeded in our block."

Shōyō and Kageyama froze as Tanaka groaned,"For real?"

"Didn't Ukai just say not to focus on the top?" Sakura rolled her eyes, drawing everyone's attention to her. She raised a lazy eyebrow at them, "So don't focus on it."

Daichi nodded his head at the younger girl, "We know."

After looking over the block and just who they were going to be playing against, everyone was getting their stuff together to leave. Though as they were finishing up getting their things, Tanaka spoke up, "Say, the rich boy didn't get to hear any of this." Something that everyone knew, but didn't know whether they should say anything. He scoffed, "Doubt it would matter though, he doesn't care enough about volleyball to really let it sink in."

Asahi huffed while pulling on his jacket, "He's just busy tonight." He didn't really like that his missing friend was constantly brought up. Endo has his own stuff to deal with at the moment, it certainly was going to cause enough stress on him even now with the tournament coming up. Asahi couldn't imagine what was going on with him. No doubt he's going to try and get Endo to talk about it to try and figure out what's best for him.

"Yeah, he'll probably be back tomorrow morning," Suga said, already seeing how Asahi was getting annoyed about the questioning of Endo's whereabouts. Truly, the setter is also worried about Endo, but he knows that it is touchy. Suga doesn't know everything about Endo, he's a bit of a secretive and mysterious person. Asahi is probably the only person that Endo is open to, and just about everyone knows that.

Tanaka tilted his head, "Where is he anyway?"

Asahi answered, "He's doing work with his father."

"What does his dad do?" Shōyō asked in curiosity.

Nishinoya pulled on his jacket, "He's a doctor or something, I think."

"He also owns a company with medical supplies." Asahi spoke once again, this time a little bit snippy as they all headed outside. Just thinking about all of this is starting to vex him. The situation that Endo is in always frustrated him. The fact that Endo has told him multiple times that he has little to no say in his life after high school is so upsetting to him. He understands that Endo is an heir to his parents' fortune and company, however, he'd think any parent would hear out what their child wants. Though not for Mr. Endo. It's his way or no other way, and that irritates Asahi far too much.

Still, he shouldn't think of that, for now, they have practice in the morning to rest. So he just started his trek home, even as the rest of his friends moved on to another topic to speak about. More specifically, they started discussing the tournament. Something that Asahi should be more focused on.

---

It was the next day, and Sakura was walking around the school campus heading to the boy's practice. She checked in with Shimada and her own club and found that they aren't really doing anything today. Shimada and Mori said that it would be okay for her to leave early, especially since Sakura had been talking about the tournament coming up for the team. All of her club members could tell that she was pretty anxious about it and maybe even a little excited. Yokoyama commented about how this may have been yet another time that they've witnessed emotion in the usual stoic girl. Sakura just rolled her eyes at that and headed out, more than willing to escape before they said anything else.

Just as she was heading towards the gym, she heard a boy ask, "What's with him?"

"Yikes…" His friend shuttered as they moved away from the intense boy who was glaring at nothing in particular.

Sakura turned to find that it was Kageyama who was scaring them. He was getting himself a drink from the vending machine

Sakura waltzed up to Kageyama as he started to drink his milk, "What did the vending machine do to you, King?"

Kageyama spun around to glare at who had just called him that, "Don't call me that!" Of course, it was Sakura who was smirking at him with her thin, pale lips. His glowering seemed to get even more intense now that he knew it was her.

"Whatever," She shrugged her shoulders, unaffected by his glare. Though she just sighed, staring up at him with a calculating gaze. "Look, I get that you're thinking about that stuck-up prick Oikawa. Honestly, I don't care what sort of grudge or whatever you have against him or he has against you. What I do care about is how well you play."

Kageyama huffed, "Why? Only hoping your brother will get to play? Stay on the court as long as he can?"

"Yes," she answered plainly, it's not like that was a secret by any means. "You and I both know that's all he's ever wanted. So I want to make sure that it happens. You just focus on playing your best, first win against Tokonami, then Date Tech, and so on. When you actually play against Aoba Johsai, then you can sulk about Oikawa."

The setter assessed what she was saying, and she was right. He shouldn't be thinking about Oikawa at the moment since they aren't playing him any time soon. He clicked his tongue, "You know, you're just as annoying as your brother."

Sakura shrugged her shoulders, "Whatever."

"...Though I guess it's good advice."

"Oh?" She smirked at his grumbling. Kageyama bristled, it seemed like he didn't mean for her to hear him say that. "Did you say I give good advice?"

Kageyama huffed harshly and had the urge to throw something at her. He really didn't like the fact that she smirked at him so smugly. Reminded him of that blonde, glasses-wearing bastard. A volleyball would be best, maybe his milk carton would do. However, it's still got plenty of milk in it, so it would be a waste. He settled for shouting at her, "Dumbass!"

"I'll take that as a thank you," Sakura smirked before walking past the annoyed boy. She took quite a bit of enjoyment from how irritated he is. He's quite easy to rile up.

---

"It was even more boring than I thought it would be," Endo told Asahi as they stood in their third-year classroom. Ever since the first minute of class, Endo had taken any second to complain to Asahi about the meeting with his father.

Asahi sighed, "I know. At least, you didn't have to actually talk during it."

Endo huffed while running a hand through his hair in frustration, "Still didn't stop some investor trying to talk with me. Like I wanted to talk to some old geezer about some company I want nothing to do with."

The meeting the other day was complete and utter bullshit to Endo. All he did was sit in the back and watch the deal that his father was trying to make. Sure, it wasn't something like being forced to interact with people. All he had to do was sit and watch. However, no matter what it was, he still had to deal with his father's stupid business. Still didn't stop some old guys from asking him questions. Of course, to keep the Endo family's image perfect, Endo just smiled dashingly and answered questions or spoke quickly with them. He would have much rather been at practice. Though his mother begged him to not make much of a fuss about it. Endo is certainly a mama's boy, so he did as she requested begrudgingly and only complained a bit. He couldn't really say no to his mother, not if she really wanted what was best for him. Or what she believed was the best for him.

As they lapsed into silence, Asahi turned his attention back to the bracket in front of him. Endo watched with sharp eyes as his friend stared down at the paper in front of him. He sighed sharply through his nose before grabbing the paper off of Asahi's desk. Asahi sputtered now that it was taken from him and Endo placed himself on the desk instead. "Stop staring at that paper." He said, now leaning against Asahi's desk to draw his attention to him, "I can smell your anxiety from miles away, you know."

"Eh!" Asahi gasped, "Don't do that!"

Endo rolled his eyes, "Really, Asahi, you're getting worked up over nothing! We have a different team, things will be better." He stuck his tongue out, "Besides who says that we'll play those goons. Maybe they'll lose in their first match."

Asahi deadpanned at him, "You know that won't happen."

"Oh, let me be optimistic if I want to!" Endo blew a raspberry at his best friend. Though Asahi did smile a little bit at Endo's silliness. Just what Endo was hoping to get out of him. The last thing he needs is to deal with a nervous Asahi. Having him constantly thinking about how he was shut out so much in their last match against Date Tech isn't good at all.

Their small libero then came out of nowhere and started yelling, "ASAHI! ENDO! GO! CLUB!"

The other third-years in the class jumped "What the…?"

"Like they're dogs?"

Now walking through the halls after a marching Nishinoya, Asahi rubbed the back of his head, "Nishinoya… it's okay now. I won't run away. I know that everyone's got my back now." The libero paused in his steps, giving Asahi his full attention. The ace had an intense look in his eyes, "I'll stand proud this time and I'll tell them I'm the ace of Karasuno!"

Endo smiled at the declaration and flashed them both a smirk, "Besides, you know I won't let him get away any time soon." He quipped, "He might have escaped me for a month, but not anymore!" He jumped up and grabbed Asahi by the shoulders, "he's not gonna skip out on us anymore!" Despite Endo not truly being that invested in the sport, he'll be damned if he lets Asahi get out of this again. There was no way that Asahi could run away from the sport, at least until they both graduate, then Endo will let Asahi go since they won't be on the team together.

---

It felt surprisingly nice to Endo to be back at practice. Missing the practice the other day had put a little bit of a damper on his mood. However, it was like a nice break. Still, he didn't have fun on said break, but it was like a good day just to rest he supposed. Of course, he was chewed out by all of his friends for missing yesterday. They questioned him quite a bit, Tanaka and Nishinoya were the loudest about it and wanted to know just what he had been doing.

Though he wanted to sound mysterious and secretive, so he told them only a little bit of what he did. For all they knew he was doing business with his father, though he didn't specify what kind of business. He kind of figured that they knew it has to do with the medical supplies stuff, but he tried to make it sound far more nefarious than what it was.

Sakura saw right through him and wasn't even interested in hearing about what he was doing. Although he tried his best to get her to be at least a little curious about his escapade outside of school. However, all she did was lazily blink at him and then roll her eyes. She sat herself down on the floor and started working on her school work.

Currently, he was standing beside Tanaka as they worked on some spiking practice. Kageyama was setting to them and at the moment he was setting to Asahi. Obviously, the ace of the team was able to hit a perfectly strong spike right over the net.

"Nice kill!"

Kageyama complimented him, "Nice, Azumane!"

"Azumane!" Ukai then called.

The ace turned to his coach, "Yes, Sir!"

"Are you good at back attacks?" He asked as Asahi became slightly unsure. "Hey! You guys come here a second!" The boys all gathered around their coach as he started to write a few things on the whiteboard. He explained a certain maneuver to them, one that consisted of a back attack, and turned to them once he was done, "And that's how it goes."

"First we need to find the right hitting height." Kageyama thought aloud.

Shōyō seemed to be a little unsure, "That looks complicated."

"I don't think we've tried something like that before," Endo said with a hand on his chin in thought.

"Let's try it." Asahi said standing up with a spark of determination, "Thank you for your help!"

Some time had passed, and the boys had all worked together on figuring out the few plays that Ukai had shown them. Putting them into fruition was a bit harder than anticipated. Especially since Endo may or may not have messed up a bit too much. Though he got over it eventually and figured out how to use them in play. Sakura, now finished with her homework, stared at the whiteboard in curiosity. Many of the plays that Ukai had written were a bit complicated. Well, perhaps they looked complicated to her since she's not an actual player. Takeda then approached Ukai who was standing beside the board that Sakura was studying.

"Ukai, you look tired," Takeda commented to the coach who did look a bit tired. The man had circles under his eyes and he was yawning a bit earlier. "You've been arriving right when practice starts every day. How are things at work?"

"Yeah, I specialized in retail all this time, but I've recently taken up a early morning crop tending, so I've been working nights at the store to compensate. After all, I can't let my family coddle me all the time."

Sparing a glance up at the coach, Sakura turned her attention away from the board for just a second with a bored voice, "You're actually responsible?"

"You-"

Takeda cut him off before Ukai could retort to Sakura, "Thank you so much!" He bowed deeply, "I'll bring you a bottle of sake some time!"

Ukai's eyes sparkled at the promise of alcohol, "You mean it?"

Sakura stored that in the back of her mind. If ever she needs to bribe him or something, alcohol is the way to go. Takeda looked over all of the plays Ukai wrote out. "Still there sure are a lot of attack patterns. Are we using all of these?"

"It depends. We need them to focus on the game in front of them." He said, "But we need to pay attention to all the games after this one too." They then watched Suga set a quick attack to Shōyō, which was hit perfectly, "That Hinata-Sugawara fast attack is starting to come together!"

On the court, Kageyama and Asahi were working together on their sets and spikes. Kageyama jumped up to his senpai with wide eyes, "Azumane, what did you think of that last toss? Was it too high or too low? What did you think?"

Asahi started to sweat at the intensity coming from the king, "Uh, well I'm okay wit-"

Kageyama insisted, "Nothing is too trivial! Don't hold back! I'll adjust!"

"Really?" Asahi said in apprehension, not totally prepared at the exuberant manner Kageyama was talking to him with. He scratched his chin, "Okay, then how about just a little higher? Oh, and also make it a little further from the net."

"Absolutely!" Kageyama exclaimed, "I would like to do another 10!"

"What?"

"Should we do more? Okay, let's do 20!"

Asahi shook his head rapidly, "No, no, that isn't what I meant."

"He's so aggressive," Endo laughed loudly at the worried expression on Asahi's face. He wasn't sure if he should go over there and save his big teddy bear or just let the first-year bother him. Either way, it's entertaining.

On the sidelines, Sakura snickered, "I've never seen him so worked up like this." Of course, she had to take a photo of him. For blackmail, obviously.

Kageyama still hadn't let up, "Do you mean you want to practice a different pattern?"

Though Asahi was saved when Daichi called out, "Hey, you guys! We've stayed late enough!"

"Yes, Sir!"

So all of the boys started their clean-up. Daichi reprimanded Kageyama and Shōyō for racing while mopping and Endo tossing stray balls at Suga. When clean-up was finally done, all the boys got their jackets, their school bags and headed out of the gym after saying goodbye to their advisor and coach.

It seemed like Kageyama and Shōyō were going to race once again. This time down the hill towards the shop at the bottom of the hill. All of the boys started heading down, laughing and sighing at the fact that even after practice the troublesome duo still had so much energy. Sakura stuck to the back of the group, her walking pace was far slower than the others, especially since they were so much taller. Curse these volleyball giants and their long legs.

She walked lazily besides really the only person she tolerated in the club and the person she may despise the most. Sakura doesn't have much of a problem being with Yamaguchi. Ever since their private talk the other day, she feels like she can be comfortable around him. She opened up a bit to him, and he was nice to her and didn't seem to want to push her own anyway. So she accepted him as a friend at this point. Tsukishima, obviously, was on a different level. She cannot tolerate him and his snarky comments most of the time. He's a bully, and she hates him for it. End of story.

"Oh, you guys can go ahead," Yamaguchi suddenly said as he paused in his steps, which caused his two friends to do the same. "I have somewhere to go before I head home."

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow at him, "You sure."

Yamaguchi nodded his head with a smile, a bit touched that Tsukishima was worried about him just a little. "Yeah, I'll be fine. See you guys tomorrow. Make sure you get plenty of rest, Tsukki." He smiled brightly and sweetly at him.

The blonde clicked his tongue, "Whatever, see you."

"Bye, Tadashi," Sakura said with a small smile.

The boy flushed slightly at the fact that she called him by his first name and smiled widely. "Bye, Sakura!" He really hasn't gotten used to the fact that Sakura and he are on first-name basis.

As he started his trek to whatever errand he had to run, Tsukishima and Sakura were left alone. Something that could go one of two ways. One, they could just stay silent and not speak to each other on their walk to the store. Or two, one of them was going to say something to the other just to rile them up. Of course, it was going to be the latter since Tsukishima was glancing at the girl from the corner of his eyes.

"It's weird."

Sakura sighed, a bit annoyed that he actually wanted to start a conversation with her. Though she'd humor him for now. "Weird?"

"That you actually made friends with Tadashi."

"Is it?" She raised an uninterested eyebrow, still not batting an eye at him, "Hm."

It seemed like pointing out the fact that she doesn't have many friends were getting to her. Tsukishima really was getting annoyed with how he couldn't annoy her. "Why do you always stay so late anyway? Don't you have anything better to do?"

She shrugged her small shoulders, "I guess not. It's far more entertaining watching you guys mess up during practice than just studying at home." She could tell that he was trying to rile her up. He was trying everything he could, it seemed. He was bringing up some sensitive topics for her but she wasn't going to take the bait. Ever since she stood up for herself during the gallery, Tsukishima has been poking and prodding at her a bit more lately. It was beyond annoying.

He scoffed, "I find it quite pathetic that you seem to have separation anxiety from your brother."

Sakkura could feel herself wanting to retaliate at that, but she kept her cool. Tsukishima watched as she took a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth. Obviously, she was calming herself down before speaking. She only hummed in reply, trying to act like what he was saying wasn't actually getting to her. "Hn."

That topic didn't seem to bother her as Tsukishima had hoped. Though he wasn't going to give up on trying to rile her up. Instead, he tried something else. "So you turned down a scholarship to Shiratorizawa for what exactly?"

Sakura bristled slightly. Why was he trying so hard to annoy her this way? If only she had longer legs to speed walk away from him. Though his much taller stature would catch up with her easily. She huffed, "It's none of your business why I do what I do."

"I find it interesting that you seem to revolve your existence around your brother." He commented, already seeing that she was starting to boil over. His smug smirk graced his lips as his golden eyes started to glow in the dark, "You know, you really are just a clone of your brothers, a shadow."

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that before." Sakura scoffed at his attempt at offending her. Seriously, he should be a little more original. She paused and turned to face him completely. Her dull, brown eyes looked up at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, I didn't go to Shiratorizawa because I didn't think I'd fit in with those rich kids. Besides, it's better to go to a local school than one a bit farther away." She was telling the truth, at least half of it. A part of why she didn't go to the school was because of the distance, but also the fact that she'd be away from her family, more specifically her brother. So she isn't lying when she says the fact that it was too far away was a factor in her decision.

Tsukishima seemed to stare at her for a while, trying to gauge whether or not she was lying about it. He wouldn't put it past her to lie to him about something like this. Though her indifferent mask seemed to be keeping him from finding out if she was telling the truth or not. "Tch." He tsked before starting to walk off again, "I'm sure you're just trying to convince yourself of that."

Sakura glanced at him with her sharp brown eyes and followed after him, "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. You'll never know."

It was silent between them. The only sound was the distant shouts of the rest of the team at the bottom of the hill and their footsteps on the ground. Neither of them was looking at each other, more than content with ignoring each other. Though Tsukishima broke the silence again, "You're nothing like your brother." Obviously, Sakura rolled her eyes. "At this point, he'd be telling me his life story about exactly why he would or wouldn't."

Sakura let out a small chuckle at that, he wasn't wrong there. "Hm, Shōyō just likes to be dramatic most of the time. I'm not. It's not something you need to know, especially since we aren't friends." Her voice turned bitter at stating that fact. It's obvious that she was more than annoyed at the fact that Tsukishima wanted to know things about her, personal things. If he wasn't being such an ass about everything and a bit more sincere then perhaps she would be more inclined to talk to him about it at least a little. But he's just being a bully, so she's not going to give him anything.

"Hey, Tsukishima, Hinata-chan!" Tanaka called and held out a bag to them, "Daichi got us meat buns!"

Tsukishima took the bag from him before handing it to Sakura, "Oh, thanks."

"Hn," Sakura said and took her own meat bun out of the bag. If there is one thing that's good that comes from staying late with the volleyball club, it's the free food Daichi gets them from time to time.

Tanaka noticed their missing friend, "Isn't Yamaguchi with you guys?"

"He said he had an errand and went home," Tsukishima explained as he subtly watched Sakura walk over to her brother. He eyed her as she listened to her brother talks excitedly about something stupid or other. Though the way that her usually bored gaze turned amused and affectionate, gave him pause. Yeah, she wasn't like her brother. And Tsukishima wanted to know exactly why.

---

The days went by pretty quickly. At least, it felt really quick to Endo. Perhaps it was because he was having quite a lot of fun nowadays both at school and practice. True to his father's word, after the one meeting that he had gone to, none of them mentioned the company again. It was pure bliss. Sure, his father and he didn't talk all that much, but that's nothing new. Besides, his father is never usually home when he's there. Hideaki would usually stay at work quite late and leave really early in the morning, so it's not like either of them say that to each other that much. Still, it brightened Endo's week now that he didn't have to think about it at all.

Practicing was quite fun for Endo. All he focused on was trying to learn new attacks and such that Ukai had come up with. Sure, he's still not the best player on the team, and really is only good at his serves, but it didn't mean he didn't have any fun. All he can really do is get better, and having his friends there to cheer him on, and a new coach to teach them, it can only go up from here, right?

Though tomorrow was the day, the tournament starts tomorrow. Endo was quite excited about it, he wouldn't lie. Tournaments were so fun for him. Drama can come around from every corner when teams clash against each other. Besides, Endo doesn't get stressed at games or such. He can keep a cool head most of the time, the pressure doesn't really get to him. Most likely because he doesn't put too much worth into winning or losing. He could care less about who comes out on top, so that might be why he doesn't usually get so worked up about them. Still doesn't mean he wouldn't put in the work. After all, if he didn't he'd be letting his friends down.

"Well done, everyone!" Ukai called now that they finished practice. It was a bit earlier than usual since the last few rays of light were still gazing down on the ground even if they were dim. "Let's quit early and go home to rest up."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Okay, that's all-"

"One minute!" Takeda suddenly exclaimed, "Can I add one more comment from Shimizu and Sakura?"

All of the attention was now turned to the manager and the girl who was sitting on the ground. Sakura jumped at the fact that she was included in this and shook her head with a click of her tongue. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted on her feet, "Well, it's more from Kiyoko-senpai, but whatever." The manager had approached her the other day and asked her to help with something that Kiyoko found in the closet. It seemed to be completely forgotten and abandoned, so it took some time to clean it up. Though Sakura has to say that she's quite… happy to see it. She actually couldn't wait to sit in the stands right behind it to cheer on her brother.

"I'm not that good at pep talks, so…" She trailed off and turned to head towards the ladder to the upper floor. She waved to the photographer, "Sakura, if you please."

The younger girl got up and followed her senpai, "Sure thing." The two girls climbed the ladder with Kiyoko carrying a black cloth with her. The team watched in anticipation to see just what the girls were going to do.

"What's that?" Nishinoya questioned what everyone was thinking.

They then flipped the banner over the edge to show the team. It was completely black with the kanji for "Fly" written boldly in white. All of the boys were in awe of it, since they never used it before.

"I didn't know we had this!"

Kiyoko looked down at them, a tad bit bashfully, "I found it while I was cleaning so I washed it."

Extremely motivated, Tanaka and Nishinoya both pumped their fists. Tanaka shouted, "Now I'm on fire!"

Nishinoya agreed on with rosy cheek, "I'm impressed, Kiyoko. You do good work!"

"Okay! It's time to get psych-"

"Not yet." Diachi cut them off, "I think… there's more."

"Y…" Kiyoko started now with everyone once again turning all of their attention to her.

All the boys were hanging off of her words, anticipating just what she would say, "'Y…'?"

She took a deep breath as her cheeks started to turn a rosy red, "You can do it."

It was silent. All of the boys were now processing what she had said. The only sound in the gym now was Kiyoko's sneakers on the ground as she ran off. It took a moment for them to understand what she had just done. Eventually, after a second, all of the upperclassmen break out of their stupor, only to start balling their eyes out.

"Shimizu…" Daichi started to sob, "has never done this before!"

Kageyama and Shōyō stared at him, "You too, Captain?"

"These people are dumbstruck," Tsukishima said, disturbed.

Yamaguchi started to sweat, "Usually, they're so boisterous."

Endo smiled with some tears in his eyes, "She's so kind."

Noticing that his sister was still standing up behind the banner, Shōyō jumped with his eyes sparkling, "Oh, Imouto! Say something too!"

The other orange-haired teen jumped now that everyone was looking up at her expectedly. Their teary eyes staring at her caused her to squirm a bit, "Huh? Why me? Um…" It took her a moment to figure out what to say. Much like Kiyoko, she also isn't good at pep talks. Sure, she's pretty good at hyping up her brother from time to time, but not an entire team. Plus, Shōyō understands Sakura far more than the others, so she didn't even have to say much for him to understand her support for him. So she flashed them a small, soft smile with a bit of uncertainty in her voice, "good luck?"

That certainly gave every boy a jolt, since they've never really seen her smile in such a manner. Only a few people have come close to seeing the corners of her lips lift up slightly in a smile. Though this time, while appearing a little unsure of herself, the smile was still far more genuine than anyone on the team has seen. Though the boys then broke out into even more cheers at the sight, which scared the poor girl just a little bit.

"Wait, what is this?" Tsukishima shouted, more than unnerved by how they reacted to Kiyoko and Sakura, "This is getting out of hand!"

Through his sniffles, Daichi shouted, "We're going to win round one!"

"Yessir!"

Nishinoya cried out, "Kiyoko! Sakura!"

"I have the strength of 100 men!" Tanaka screamed.

Despite the strange scene, Sakura was… excited. They were all pumped up for the tournament tomorrow, and she is no exception. The second tournament that her brother has ever been in and his odds look far better than in middle school. As she watched the team shout and freak out with each other down below, she truly couldn't help herself from smiling softly at them all. Yeah, things are looking pretty good for her brother.

---

Yawning loudly, Sakura ran a hand through her slightly messy hair. Today was the day. Yet another important day for her brother since the first match for the tournament is today. Now, while she was tired, Sakura was also a bit energetic. It's kind of contagious between the twins. Sakura is usually able to control herself and keep herself cool and collected, but it just seemed like today was the day that she was willing to be more excited than usual.

"Can you believe it, imouto!" Shōyō exclaimed as he quickly put his bike away and seemed to be buzzing in place. "We're heading to the tournament today!"

"Yeah, it's great." Sakura smiled subtly at her brother's enthusiasm.

He jumped up and down like a rabbit, "You'll cheer us on, right?"

"Of course I will." She said almost offended that he would think she wouldn't, "Mainly just you though, I don't really care about the others."

Shōyō tilted his head. Even after all this time, Sakura still didn't seem like she liked the other guys. "Why not? Aren't you friends with any of the others?"

"Hm, no." She then thought about it for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe Yamaguchi. Or Suga, Daichi and Asahi. Though that's it." There were only a few others that she tolerates. Perhaps the second-years, sans Tanaka and Nishinoya, though that's about it. The others were either too annoying or an asshole(*cough* Tsukishima *cough*). Though as a whole she'd cheer on the entire team. If they all succeed then that means Shōyō succeeds.

"Oh, I thought you'd-"

The twins then suddenly heard shouting from behind them and the ground started to rumble as Kageyama came racing up from behind him. He passed the two, picking up the wind around them and nearly knocking the twins over. Shōyō growled and quickly took off after him, "Why, you! Come back here, Kageyama!"

Sakura readjusted her uniform after it was messed up by the sprinting setter. She clicked her tongue but let it slide. For today, she could understand why they might have an unimaginable amount of energy. Though they usually are like this so perhaps she shouldn't let it slide. Oh, well.

Though it's not like she was going to race after them. She'd let them run to the club room while she continued her calm, lazy pace. Doing this not only allowed her to not exert any extra energy and contemplate things.

Ever since coming to Karasuno, she's had hope. A hope of her brother finally getting exactly what he wants. An opportunity to prove himself as a player. To show everyone that no matter how short he is, he's still an amazing player. All she wants is for him to prove himself and be the best that he can be. Joining Karasuno seems to have given him the opportunity to do so.

She knows that he has improved exponentially since middle school. He's refined his technique and has a team that can support him in the game and such. While she can support him from the sidelines and give him encouragement, he always needed an actual team to be on the court with him. Karasuno certainly is that team for him.

While she has to admit that some of his team members are annoying, they're talented. They're good enough to help her brother achieve his goal. Some of them get on her nerves, however, she'll look past it for the sake of Shōyō.

Sakura is proud of Shōyō. He's worked hard to get towards this. She knows that this is just one step towards winning as many games as he can. He'll stay on the court for as long as he can. That's all she hopes. Then he'll become just like the Tiny Giant, his idol.

Though, she sighed while getting closer to the club room. Finally turning the corner and seeing Shōyō and Kageyama talking about something, she watched them from her position. She didn't want him to lose. Even if it's a bit of a possibility. They are still a new team, the odds are stacked against them no matter how much they practice. Karasuno is going against other teams that are known to be far more put together. As a pessimist, she's not going to let go of the fact that they may lose. While Shōyō may not think it's possible, Sakura would be the realist of the two and not be too hopeful about everything going right for them.

The last thing she wants is to see her brother get upset after losing despite putting in so much work and having this new team. She'd hate to see that. Even if she's more than prepared for it happening.

---

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[sparrowvei]

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I need to write here more often but like actually.

Anyway, I had a nightmare last night. It was vivid, felt real, took forever, and emotionally visceral.

Nothing groundbreaking in terms of the contents of the dream. Standard "evil authority high school" dream, coupled with an escape sequence.

(Upon clicking Read More, several cutscenes will play in sequence.)

So I was in this school. Clearly a high-school kind of setting, and I was probably in either Junior or Senior year. 16-17 age range here. Dream started right smack dab in the middle. I'm in a hallway, and the very first thing I notice is that water isn't allowed for students. Like, at all. Like, water is treated as contraband during the school day kind of thing. I sit in a classroom after discussing how bullshit this actually is with someone else, and people are sneaking drinks of water when they think staff isn't watching.

Anyway, I'm in this classroom. The teacher in charge of this class is eerily reminiscent of my worst, most hated math teacher from 9th grade. Subconsciously, I knew what to expect, even if the dream-class wasn't math adjacent. We had to copy this essay thing on a tiny whiteboard in the corner above the door. I can't read it from my seat, which is in the opposite corner in the back. Time to finish this essay is something ridiculous like 5 minutes or something. I obviously don't finish.

Teacher comes by to inspect. I don't remember exactly how the exchange went, but it came to the idea of me saying that the whole thing was bullshit, including the "no water" rule. I get up and walk out, but not before spraying some water from a concealed water bottle at the whiteboard essay. The teacher is following me of course, to set out some kind of punishment and make an example of me. But she (an elderly woman, I remember her vividly) follows me unnaturally calmly. Like, all the way to the exit of the school.

I've very clearly had it with this entire school and its bullshit, and I'm just planning on walking out, thinking that legally, they can't do a damn thing to me. As I get to the front door, the teacher has been following me and talking very calmly. Before I can leave, she hits what is clearly a panic button, and even though I know exactly what that means, she still tells me (with an uncharacteristic-to-her-real-life-counterpart giggle, that stuck with me) that the cops would deal with me.

I leave, she's still following me, I see another student arrive in a pickup truck. I'm begging and pleading for my life (because police are now involved, naturally I'm afraid for my life) to have this guy take me off campus and somewhere I can hide. Home feels like a bad idea, because the school would obviously have my address on record. But I can't think of anywhere else to go, so I have the student drop me off at a payphone (those exist in this dream-world apparently, but I remember it clearly) so I can call my mother or older sister and figure out what to do.

A timeskip happens, because, dream. At this point, I should mention I had a previous dream about some kind of amalgamate "house" that my mother and older sister have and we all live together in. The previous dream this night (because my sleep is perpetually broken, but I fell back asleep super quickly this time) was us in this house, kind of a nothing-burger of a dream, I think my sister got a new custom PC or something, IDK. I was exploring the house, so I knew the details of it.

Anyway, timeskip to me back home. In previous-dream's amalgam house. I guess I called my sister, because I had to explain all of this to my still-sleeping mother, that the school was after me. I told her to not let anyone in, you haven't seen me, etcetc. And I hide. For hours. I'm in this weird not-dresser kind of cubby hole under my mother's bed, piling clothing in front of myself to be as concealed as possible.

It gets a little hazy from here, since the dream is winding down and I'm beginning to feel like I'm about to wake up. (Yep, this was a lucid dream!) Two times, I hear the headmaster of this school (middle aged man, deep voice but not imposing, not anyone I seem to know) come by, talk to my mother, and then leave. His voice gives a calm, eerily calm nature just like my teacher. It really comes off as a cult to my kind-of-waking-up brain, now that I think about it.

The teacher then comes by. This makes three visits by the school within the span of (in universe) like 4 hours or something. The headmaster did not find me, but the teacher did. I just tell her to leave. Technically, in verse, I recognize she's breaking the law, and has no grounds to take me back to the school. She makes some vague threat, but I threaten to expose this school for its "No Water Allowed" rule, and… then it gets fuzzy enough as I'm basically waking up completely.

I just know that my mother and older sister in this dream were firmly in the "fuck off" camp towards school staff, once I told my side of the story. They sure as hell were not accommodating towards school staff. And the dream didn't end with me going back, so we "won" I guess.

Like I said, the dream itself isn't scary in a bubble. But the atmosphere, the almost-but-not-quite Stepford Smiler teachers (Not brainwashed or programmed, but also super cult-creepy) and how emotional it all felt in the moment, combined with how vivid it was and how long it took, it just shook me I guess.

…

Then there's the other nightmare, before the amalgamate-house dream. Same vibe, chased by an authority figure, but it's like a boss type person at a shitty retail job, and ended with me getting some sweet Skyrim weapon that shot lightning (it was a 1h hammer but Our Mjolnir Is Different) so it got silly enough to not stick with me beyond me remembering it like right now.