#and she tester herself today after feeling bad

[machidielontheway]

Friend i saw and talked to on saturday has covid :((

[banjjakz]

bleed for me; hananene 5+1 oneshot

He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

(Or: Five times Hanako is painfully, embarrassingly obvious about being a vampire -- and the one time he doesn't even need to be.)

wc: ~6.7k

warnings: vampire!au; horror elements; disturbing themes; graphic descriptions of blood & ensuing oral consumption; etc, etc

🖤 read on ao3 🖤

1. Garlic Bread

“I’m home!”

From his lax recline on the bed, Hanako calls out a lazy welcome back. He doesn’t get up because he’s far too comfortable watching old primetime reruns of ridiculous game shows, and also -- well. 

He’s a little unhappy.

Ah, maybe not unhappy. That’s a rather strong word -- sensation? Feeling? For someone who’s felt a lot of them for a very long time, Hanako isn’t the most adept at categorizing his own emotions. Let alone experiencing them. It’s much more convenient to acknowledge that something probably important is sounding off in his chest, and then leave it alone to run its course. Hands-off is always the way to go. Less messy that way.

But then, he’s forced to deal with complex situations such as these:

The lovely, strange, absolutely enrapturing human being whose life he feels lucky enough to occupy even just a small, miniscule part of -- flouncing into his bedroom, all bright eyes and wide-lipped smiles and rosy cheeks and limbs jittering in excitement at seeing him after a mere handful of hours spent apart--

And Hanako, whose cold, dead heart threatens to jolt back to life at the mere sight of her.

How odd. He wonders what it means, and then immediately stops doing that. Hands-off. Mess free.

“Hanako-kun!” Greets Yashiro, rushing to stand at his side, her stockinged feet thump-thump-thumping at the hardwood in a rapid, red-blooded pulse. Her hair flows freely today, which is unusual. Normally, she has it pulled back and away from her face, in one neat platinum sphere at the base of her neck. There’s a decorative clip or three in there, somewhere, too.

Where are those tonight? What happened to the disturbingly skull-shaped barrette? He likes that one. “Hanako-kun, look! For you!”

Oh, she’s holding something. He hadn’t even noticed. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be…

“A greasy paper bag,” Hanako deadpans. “How kind of you, Yashiro.”

She rolls her eyes, and stomps her foot. He can see the vibrant red of her painted toenails even through those dark tights she insists on wearing out everyday. These are one of her nicer pairs, though. No rips or runs in sight. Not even when Hanako scans her legs up and down and up again, just to check. Just to make sure.

Yashiro’s irate scoff sends his eyes scrambling very rapidly back to meet her own. “You’re impossible. You gotta guess what’s in- side the bag, dummy.”

“Radishes. No, wait, we already have plenty of those on hand.”

“Oh my God, I am literally going to kill you. Do you wanna die?” Hanako almost laughs. “Last chance before I change my mind and don’t let you have any!”

“Ohhh. Something I can have?”

Yashiro nods. Hanako tracks the movement of her jaw like a vulture circling a corpse, freshly splayed open and vulnerable and tantalizing with how red the blood, how plump the flesh, how easy it would be to sink his talons in and bare his teeth and--

“I have no idea,” he muses, “what that would be, then.”

“You’re so weird sometimes, Hanako-kun. Anyways, remember how I went over to Kou-kun’s tonight? Because he needed a taste-tester for his school assignments? Remember?”

Ah, and here he returns to the root issue of tonight’s predicament. Hanako is swiftly delivered back into the strange sensation of discontent that plagued him mere moments prior to Yashiro’s arrival. She’d distracted him -- as she is so often does -- from his brooding. 

Hanako remembers that he’s supposed to be brooding.

Hanako begins to brood. 

It’s a pitiful attempt, really, because Yashiro is hellbent on injecting the evening with her unique brand of excitable fanfare, and Hanako has never been able to put up much of a fight against her. He’s weak to the sun and all it’s gifts of brightness, after all.

In a last-ditch effort to save face, he manages to pout. Yes, this will show her. This will express to her his deep-seated dissatisfaction! 

“Hmph. I guess,” sighs Hanako, batting his lashes for good measure.

“Oh quit it. Don’t look like such a jealous puppy--”

“-- Excuse me--”

“--Especially ‘cause I brought you such a good gift! Look!”

And then Yashiro reaches into the bag and pulls out a slice of greasy, buttery, deliciously succulent garlic bread.

Hanako doesn’t even have the time to process her accusation of jealousy (which, hello? A little absurd if you ask him.) as he’s preoccupied with scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed, as fast as what will hopefully appear to be humanly possible.

“Kou-kun’s in the middle of his global unit in school, and he chose to make some Italian dishes, so I thought I’d bring home-- hey!! Where are you going!” Yashiro, clearly perplexed, pauses in her bubbly explanation. “Don’t be like that! I know you don’t like Kou-kun for whatever stupid reason, but really? He made it just for you!”

Of course he did, thinks Hanako, scathingly. He will deal with that overgrown menace of a mutt later, when his physical body is not in imminent danger and Yashiro is not growing steadily closer, brandishing the bread as though it were a sword, or rapier.

Oh, if only she knew.

Normally, Hanako would be elated -- ecstatic, even -- to see Yashiro crawling across his mattress, chasing him with a dark intensity in her eyes and a palm outstretched. But the issue here is that her palm, as sweet-smelling and milky soft as it looks and probably feels (Hanako wouldn’t know), is currently wielding a weapon of mass destruction.

He tries to placate her, or at least slow her steady advance, but it’s all for naught. “H-Hey now, Yashiro--”

He should throw her off. She shouldn’t even be in his home in the first place, let alone in his bed, but somewhere along the way Hanako had started making inappropriate, foolish, misguided allowances for this strange woman, and then he… never stopped.

Honestly? For a mistake as silly as entertaining a human of all things, he supposes he should go out in an equally as embarrassing fashion: death by sliced bread.

Yashiro is on top of him now, her thick calves bracketing the bony jut of his hips as she sits on his chest and leans over him, her cheeks incensed a bright and healthy rouge -- a mere few shades darker than those glittering fuschia eyes. Hanako can’t help but wonder just how red she can get; how much red she has to spare. How much red would be enough to burst her open and leak along the sides of her pristinely pale canvas like spilled acrylic in one big, gory, spattering mess. 

For two (definitely, totally, absolutely) mutually exclusive reasons, Hanako feels his stomach contract.

“You’re being ridiculous,” announces Yashiro from her perch atop his body, blissfully unaware of the fact that Hanako could very easily toss her clean across the city if he so chose. 

(Or maybe, it’s the fact that might know, and is unafraid of the prospect. As though she believes he won’t. Humans are such an arrogant, fickle species. He can’t say that he particularly misses being amongst their ranks.)

“It’s bread. Would it kill you to be agreeable for once and just take a freaking bite?”

Her heartbeat. He can hear it loud and clear even as he lays underneath the vice grip of her sturdy legs. Does she even know how fast her pulse rams itself against her veins? Like it’s begging to be rescued from the confines of that pretty, porcelain cage? 

Fuck. Fuck.

Hands-off. 

Mess free. 

“I’m allergic,” says Hanako, slowly, face blank and clean as a slate as he stares unblinkingly back up at his captor. “To garlic.”

There’s a curtain of shimmering white that cascades around the two of them, shifting to block out any and all extraneous stimuli. He should remind her to pick up some more bleach the next time she takes a trip to Daiso. It’s time to touch-up her roots again.

“Allergic,” she parrots.

The way her lips shape around the word, tasting it and rolling it around in suspicion, is captivating. In all his years of dealings on this earth never has Hanako followed a journey so gripping, so intense, as the way that Yashiro Nene’s mouth moves across a sentence. “Allergic,” she says again, flat and faint.

He’s just barely able to nod. “Deathly.”

“You’re deathly allergic to garlic.”

Time grinds to a painful, halting stop. The gradual slowing of the outside world is so acute that Hanako can track with his eyes the moment that Yashiro’s gaze flickers down to his cracked lips and the steady in-and-out of her breath is all but frozen in place. It’s excruciating, the level of detail he’s been subjected to bear witness to as a creature borne of blood and misery. He hates that he can hear her lungs rattle in suspense. He hates that he can name each muscle that goes still and locks solidly into place, anchoring around him in a rigid, tense embrace. He hates that he can smell her fear.

“Precisely. And you are straddling me. Are we done stating facts or would you like to continue on, Yashiro?”

It’s a bad habit he has, relying on humorous deflection. He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

The crumbs in his bed dig into his skin and burn there, serving as a very stark, very physical reminder of his worst habit.

He’s already served his penance. Is currently serving it. Is slated to serve it for the rest of whatever conceivable eternity awaits him. 

So why, then, does his chest twist and ache with an ardor he thought had died with him, all that time ago? 

2. Reflection

The only reason he’d agreed to tag along was because Yashiro promised him that he didn’t have to speak if he didn’t want to. He isn’t much inclined to converse with random humans -- especially not over cheap, young wine. 

But this is, of course, exactly what he finds himself doing on a Thursday evening he would otherwise spend alone, holed up in his room, with his blackout curtains drawn to the side to bask in the glow of the full moon. Longingly, Hanako glances out of the large window he’d surreptitiously made a home next to immediately upon their arrival. Ah, well. Next month.

A round of boisterous laughter startles him out of his reverie. He chances a glance back to the sectional sofa in front of him and is greeted by the sight of Yashiro nearly doubled over in apparent amusement, wine glass tipping dangerously to the wayside. Her cheeks are speckled with the beginnings of a youthful pink. Unshed tears cling to her thin eyelashes. When she straightens up to catch her breath, she meets his gaze and allows her grin to melt into something soft and warm and entirely unsuited for the terrible, awful things that run through Hanako’s mind faster than the speed of light.

Having fun? She mouths discreetly, bringing the glass up to take another sip.

He nods, draining the red in his own grasp long and slow. It tastes like ash on his tongue. 

One of the other humans speaks, then. It isn’t the orange haired fellow who’d immediately struck Hanako as a sniveling, blindsided, spineless fool of a man -- no, it’s his wife, who’s entirely too preoccupied with asking questions about Hanako’s personal life for his comfort. 

“Hanako-san,” she begins pleasantly, gripping the wine bottle by the neck as she tops off his glass. Unprompted. “I’ve been wondering about something! Nene-chan is an Insta-freak, you know, right?” A what? “But you’re never on her page,” she continues with a pout, “And you aren’t tagged in any photos. Are you shy? That’s adorable!”

How can a woman speak so politely with eyes as cold as hers? They glitter at him underneath the fluorescent lighting of the living area, small and hard and blindingly bright, a twin set of enchantingly haunted jewels. Delicately, she tastes at the rim of her glass, and says nothing else.

Before he can conjure up a response that isn’t mood-killing and really little more than a thinly veiled threat, Yashiro pipes up. “Hanako-kun’s super off-grid!” She stresses, eyes wide, words comically over exaggerated as though she is delivering information of the utmost importance. “He has a very troubled childhood! He doesn’t like talking about it! So that’s why!”

“A troubled childhood,” muses the purple haired menace.

Yashiro nods solemnly, gulping another hit of her dry white. “Yeah! He’s got a bunch of weird allergies, too. Did you know that he can’t eat garlic? Not even garlic bread? Isn’t that so sad!”

“...Indeed it is. My condolences, Hanako-san.”

Right.

The evening doesn’t really improve from there, apart from Yashiro falling into his side after she gets a bit too wine drunk. Hanako can smell more than just the saccharine perfume she slathers on all the time; no, from this close, Hanako inhales and internalizes the scent of a robust, earthy musk, far richer than anything spritzed or patted superficially into the skin. Hanako can smell underneath her skin. Hell, Hanako can practically see -- can practically taste the delicacies hidden there, with how firmly she leans onto him. Would she still feel comfortable holding clutching onto his arm, if she knew the kinds of things he thinks about her? About doing to her?

They say good night to the amethyst wench and her sad excuse of a clueless human husband not long after that. The apartment isn’t far away and it’s too late to stumble into the car of a subway, so the pair of them trek home on foot.

A quiet night. The moon is as full as she is healing, and Hanako returns to himself a little bit more underneath her watchful, healing gaze.

“Now that I think about it… we really don’t have any pictures together.”

Although Yashiro has sobered up enough to stand straight, she still maintains a loose grasp on his arm. Her fingernails curl into the sleeve of his button down, a splash of bright, vivid red disappearing in the deep dark of a moonless night. Swallowed right up without a second thought. “Is it… is it because you’re embarrassed, Hanako-kun? Of, um… well. Do you not want to be seen with me? I’m sorry…”

He could break his own neck. He should. He would, if she asked him to.

“You own a Polaroid camera, yes?”

“Ah! You mean my Hello Kitty one? Uh-huh! Why?”

“When we return home,” Hanako says, like a fool, “We can take a picture.”

If he were a defendable creature, he’d point to Yashiro’s sudden and swift ascent into excitement as the justification for the latest manifestation of his long, long list of bad habits. Her strong ankles defy gravity and carry her as she floats on air, giggling as she skips the whole way home. Even as they make their way through the front door. Even as she must root around in her cluttered bedroom (that Hanako cannot follow her into, for obvious reasons). Even as she struggles to remember how to change the film, and inputs a decorative mascot-inspired roll, nicking more than a few of her pale, slender fingers in the process.

Even as she wades through darkness, Yashiro is so bright. 

The actual photo itself requires some set-up which eventually results in Hanako reversing the contraption unto them and pressing down on what he’s only halfway sure is the capture button. He assumes that he’s done well when a thin strip of glossy paper leaks out from the bottom and Yashiro swipes at it in a giddy stupor, remnants of the Riesling from earlier that evening rendering her sloppy and uncoordinated. 

“‘Kay, it’s gotta develop now… should only be a few more seconds! Will you keep it safe tonight? ‘M sooooo tired, and I really gotta shower before I pass out…”

Yashiro is already stumbling away, back towards her bedroom. She slips the rapidly lightening square in his palm as she slips back, lingering for one moment too long against the doorframe.

“Thanks, Hanako-kun. G’night.”

And then she is gone.

Which is probably for the best. The film has finally pulled itself from the murky depths of ambiguity. Hanako looks down at the picture in his palm and Yashiro stares back at him: her bold, red lips and silver-spun hair are two twin beacons of color, misplaced and incongruent within the impenetrable sea of blackness surrounding her. 

Where Hanako should have been instead lies a lapse in composition. The photograph is blank and undeveloped around his general silhouette. But that is not the strangest thing about the photograph.

The strangest thing is howYashiro leans into the darkness, unafraid of the way it spindles into her own boisterous portrait and slowly eats at the brightly hued pigments of her warm flesh, her pretty, frilly dress, her smile. That unerringly loud, human smile.

How long will it take, he wonders, before the shot is entirely eclipsed by that cold, dead void.

3. Sunlight

It’s a bad day before he even opens his eyes.

As a creature of indeterminate longevity and supernatural capabilities, sleep is not the necessity it once was for him. But he indulges, from time to time, when there’s little to do during the daylight hours. After all, he’s confined to his bedroom from sunrise until sunset. Pacing the perimeter of a lion’s cage grows tiresome, even to eternally patient apex predators such as himself. Much easier to force his body to shut down and pass the time for him, as his consciousness wanders aimlessly through the realm of a deep, dreamless slumber.

This day is not one of those days. This day is the peak of Summer’s cruel, tyrannical reign. This day is suffocating. This day is warm. This day is bright. 

This day maneuvers above and below and all around the blackout curtains that are always painstakingly drawn over his windows. This day leaks into his bedroom and weasels its way into his sheets, underneath his skin, scorching him from the inside out with such a ferocity that it renders him immobile. Every fiber of his being threatens to splice into terrifying, meaningless oblivion. 

When Yashiro first asked, Hanako told her it was migraines.

It was a vague excuse that pinpointed some rare, untreatable immune-disease that left him inexplicably weak to sunlight. Yashiro really should have been more persistent in hunting down the real truth -- the actual truth -- especially considering her occupation as an urgent clinic nurse. He considers the idea that it’s an answer she doesn’t care enough to unearth. He mulls over the alternative, which is that she is too frightened by whatever she may find to go searching for it in the first place. He then decides he’s done thinking about her. Today is torture enough.

A gentle knock at his door renders all of his efforts fruitless, however. “Hanako-kun?” Her voice filters easily through the heavy fog clouding his awareness, like a blade through slackened flesh. “You okay?”

She’s still standing hesitantly in his doorway, as though waiting for permission to enter. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so badly to do anything other than lay still and flat as a corpse.

He can’t afford to expend any unnecessary effort lest he wear himself out completely, so he goes for the most direct course of action:

Snakes his arm out of the big, black ball of sheets and comforter in which he’s coffined himself inside. Holds back a curse as he’s made aware of just how weak he’s become. Struggles not to drop his cellular phone when he finally manages to blindly locate it. Unplugs the device single handedly with tremorous fingers. Holds it out to the open air.

“Take this,” says Hanako, voice dim and tepid. “Dial the contact ‘Tsukasa.’ Give him this address.”

Not for the first time, Hanako realizes that he should be grateful for this human’s absence of curiosity. He has amassed plenty of bad habits in the past, all of them metastasizing entirely too close for comfort until he’d been forced to handle them in a way that had been entirely hands-on and the very opposite of mess-free. For Yashiro to wordlessly collect the cellular phone from his trembling grasp and do as she’s told is what he’d call a blessing, if he still believed in feats as fickle as faith. 

She is confused as she makes the phonecall. Hanako can hear the shift of her hair sliding past one shoulder as she tilts her head. He can feel the way her chest flutters in a muted gasp of surprise when the line connects after the first ring. She can’t be more than three or four feet away. Close enough for him to reach out and brush, with the pitifully pale pads of his fingertips. What a sight that would paint, muses Hanako, deliriously. Icarus and his glittering, lethal lover.

Time ebbs and flows and bends and breaks after that. He’s distantly aware that he drops in and out of consciousness. The hot wax slathering each of his limbs is an imagined thing, he’s sure, as is the sensation of free-falling to an anticipated, blunt death. These sensations are from the dreamscape that pulls him beneath its suffocating depths only to release him at the last second, in a cruel imitation of the sea and all her unfathomable terror. 

(He has not dreamt in so very, very long. It’s a bad habit.)

The final time he breaks the surface, he surges up against something -- cold. The kind of cold that forces his own to bow its head. The kind of cold that relieves him of his fever, and sends a violent chill through his body, all at once. The kind of cold one should only absorb in small doses, with limited contact. A once-in-every-three-decades kind of cold. That kind of cold.

“Hi, Amane! You look terrible!”

Tsukasa’s hand on his forehead is frigid enough that it loops back into the realm of burning. Hanako must gently bat it away and blink blearily up at the sight of his twin brother, just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he always was. Always is.

“Hi, Tsu.”

“Hold still, ‘kay? I brought the bendy straws you like. All you gotta do is sip. Open wide!”

Obediently, Hanako parts his lips and accepts the flimsy piece of plastic. 

He tries not to think about what, exactly, it is that he’s doing. If he closes his eyes and holds his breath, Hanako can almost pretend that he’s being fed by different hands, in a different world, as a different person. 

“Hey, Amane?”

Gulp, shudder. Resist the instinctive gag that claws its way up his throat like a beast bending the bars of its cage. “Yeah, Tsu?”

“Why are you starving yourself?”

Eyes closed. Mouth shut. Another swallow. Hands-off. Mess free.

“You have food right there,” Tsukasa whispers. “Is there something wrong with her? Is she sick? Y’know, I’m not picky. If you don’t want her, I can--”

Hanako, with newfound strength, launches upright into a sitting position. What wonders a couple of mouthfuls can do. 

Oh, how to explain this. Oh, how to navigate his way through an intersection of muddled implications and unspoken subtleties, all of which will go right over Tsukasa’s head. How can Hanako pretend to be a creature of innuendo and self-control, when his biggest, most glaring lapse in judgement sits across from him in the damned den of his own design?

He struggles for a moment, running a tired hand down his face. “Yashiro is a -- friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes,” confirms Hanako, desperately avoiding Tsukasa’s curious gaze. “And friends don’t eat friends.”

The words are slimy and leave a bad taste in his mouth. Well. Maybe the words themselves aren’t what lingers at the back of his tongue and stains his teeth. But they are odious, nonetheless, and hang in the air like empty nooses dripping down from a gallows.

“Friends don’t let friends starve,” is Tsukasa’s counterpoint. “If it were me, Amane, I’d let you. Even though you already did, I’d let you do it again. I’d always let you.”

Hanako has never understood why Tsukasa refuses to cover up the twin bite marks that marr his jugular. Is it to punish him? Is it not punishment enough, that Hanako has to see his face at all? 

When his brother grins at him, it cuts like a knife. Hanako remembers a time where those cheeks stretched wider, when those eyes glistened with something other than black ice. Tsukasa plucks the bendy straw out of the cup and drinks straight from the rim, tossing his head back to give Hanako full view of the way his throat opens and closes around the infernal contents. 

He can’t stop staring at the scars: two lone stars fixed in an empty, pallid, apocalyptic sky.

The younger boy is sated only when the cup has been drained dry -- and even then, he pants, exhilarated, pupils blown large and dangerously obsidian as they flitter back and forth as though in search of more, more, more. 

Why are you starving yourself?

He’d always been a messy eater. His baby brother, Tsukasa. Tsukasa who loved Katanuki. Tsukasa who loved to paint. Tsukasa who still loves to paint, but now works solely in abstract monochrome. Tsukasa, who paints himself over and over and over again until he’s dripping, covered head-to-toe in a masterpiece of his own design. Tsukasa, who licks his canvas clean at the end of each night only to start anew in tomorrow’s dangerous twilight dusk. Tsukasa, who collects victims like portraits.

Tsukasa, who had once been a portrait himself. Hanako, who held the brush in his hands and created something freakishly beautiful that wretched, awful night.

Why are you starving yourself?

He feels full enough, watching Tsukasa pass his tongue over his chops. He feels like he’ll never need to eat again.

By the time his brother makes his departure, the sun has long since sunk beneath the horizon. Hanako’s room is once again as it should be: a thick, inky fog of opaque black. It’s so dark, in fact, that had he not been what he is, he would never have spotted the slight gap between his door and its frame, where a slender figure lingers in apprehensive wait.

Yashiro is checking on him, he realizes belatedly. 

Why are you starving yourself?

“Good night,” She calls, softly. “I’m about to head out for a double.”

“Be safe.”

“‘Course! I always am… I hope you feel better soon, Hanako-kun.”

He couldn’t have this if he ate like an animal. He couldn’t have Yashiro -- sweet, gentle, lovely Yashiro -- living alongside him as he devoured bodies made in her image. Already, Hanako struggles with what his baser instincts urge him towards… to give into those temptations would be putting her in danger. 

His door clicks quietly shut. His room is bathed in the cover of night once more.

Left alone to his own devices, the beat begins to roam its cage. A growl sounds, low and deep and mortally wounded. Not from his throat -- but from the very pit of his stomach.

Resistance is one thing, but ignorance, however feigned, is quickly ruled out of the realm of his personal possibility. There is no disregarding the sensations that fester inside of him. There is no course for his desires to run. There is only the ugly, maddening truth:

Hanako is hungry.

Hanako needs to put his hands on something.

Hanako needs to make a mess.

4. Silver

“Promise rings!”

“... Excuse me?”

“N-Not in a weird way, or anything like that!” Stutters Yashiro, fumbling with the miniature wooden box in her shaking, manicured grasp. “They’re just little cheap ones. I saw them on display at the mall, and I couldn’t just not… plus, do you even know what day it is?”

Hanako raises a brow. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s our six-months-as-roommates-a-versary!”

“Wow.”

“I’m really happy you recognize the importance here, Hanako-kun. Now stick out your hand so I can put yours on! And then you do me!”

If he didn’t know any better, Hanako would wonder how Yashiro gets anything done with those delicate fingers of hers. They’re as soft-looking and malleable and enticingly peachy as the rest of her, topped off at their gracefully tapered ends with a neat coat of ruby red. They dance along everything they touch, nimble little ballerinas hopping from pose to pose, commanding rapt attention wherever they leap. 

As his own hand raises to meet hers, he must fight the urge to clench into an ugly, defensive fist. 

The first touch sends something like electricity ricocheting down his spine like lightning through a weather vane. She is so gentle. How can she be so gentle? How can she be so round-edged and rosy-cheeked and expect him to just stand here, wordlessly, with nothing to do or say about it? How can she live in his house for six months and celebrate, rather than mourn? How can she look at him, a creature innate to unsightly presence and habit, and say to herself: this is something worthy of care.

The second touch is just as unnerving, but for all the wrong reasons.

“I thought you said this was cheap,” grits Hanako, exhaling sharply through his nose as the silver ring slides slow and meticulously down the length of his finger. 

Yashiro pauses, eyes narrowed. “Is it not? How can you even tell?”

“A-allergic… !”

To her credit, she’s properly mortified. Yashiro almost falls all over herself  to wrench the offending piece of jewelry off and away, apologizing profusely as she studies the burn wound on his middle finger. Her mouth twists into a tense little knot. Hanako wants to smooth it out.

Instead, he follows her obediently into her bathroom after she tells him to come inside and sit his ass down on the toilet -- which he does, sheepishly.

“I can’t believe -- oh, God, I’m so sorry, Hanako-kun… Just, hold still okay? It’s only gonna hurt a little, I promise.”

It’s an injury that would’ve long since healed itself by now, if he were in any other state than the one he currently occupies; which is to say that he’s rather unhealthy. Which is to say that the rats and possums and other small rodents he guiltily entraps in the alley behind the house do nothing besides sate a momentary desire. Which is to say that it is impossibly difficult to keep himself aware and conscious and disciplined enough not to careen head-first into Yashiro’s exposed clavicle and unhinge his jaw and feel his skull shift to accommodate the extra layer of fangs and sink his claws into her perfect, supple hips and feel her go paralyzed with terror as he--

“Okay! All done. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.” It’s a pretty bandage. Pink and bright with tiny dancing radishes along the perimeter.

“I really am sorry,” mumbles Yashiro, encasing his frigid hands with her own, squeezing and rubbing with her soft thumbs. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. You’ve always -- you’re always so kind to me, all the time, and it just seems like… well, I don’t know. Lately I feel like I just never know how to help you, Hanako-kun. I feel like I just make things… worse. So can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonesty.

“You have to tell me when you need something. Or when you don’t need something. Or when you -- uh, well, I really want you to be honest with me. Okay? Can you promise me that? Because it makes me really sad that you struggle with… a lot, and there’s not so much I know about how to help. So, please? Do you promise? To be honest?”

“I promise,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonestly and also because he can’t close his eyes without seeing her body splayed out in the bathtub behind her, limbs limp and gore overflowing past the rim and into his eagerly awaiting mouth. In this fantasy, he uses his tongue to follow the carmine droplets bulleting down the porcelain edge, licking and slurping until he reaches the source of the mess, the heart of the storm, the original inspiration to all his reverence. He would take his time. 

(Or would he lose himself? Would it be hands-on? Would it be messy?)

“Thank you for trusting me. I trust you… with my life, you know. Maybe it’s naive, but I hope one day you could do the same.”

He can’t touch her, not right now, even though she looks like she’s about to shake apart at the seams. All Hanako can do is watch from a safe distance, and wonder. And want. And ache.

As always.

5. Blood

She comes home early.

Hanako has only just padded his way into the kitchen when he hears the front door unlock. Is it that time, already? No, it can’t be. Yashiro usually arrives when he is just settling in to go back to sleep. She brings with her the pale light of a budding dawn, and although Hanako regrets their sparse interactions and conflicting schedules, he’d rather not disintegrate into a pile of ashes atop the living room couch just because he felt like saying welcome home, honey.

Tonight is different, apparently. A cursory glance thrown over to the microwave clock reveals that it’s only a few minutes past the witching hour. And despite there being a total absence of sunlight when Yashiro opens the door, Hanako still falls to his knees in a sudden onslaught of unadulterated agony.

His vision turns spotty, only worsening as Yashiro rushes inside and screams at the sight of his crumpled body. “Hanako-kun? Oh my God! Oh my God, can you hear me?”

Barely, is what he wants to say, but can’t. His throat is too tight, too dry. His mouth begins to salivate at an alarmingly disgusting rate. 

That smell.

Pathetically, he crawls over to her on his hands and knees, body running on autopilot as it drives him towards the source. Hanako can feel his body shift and transform with the pavlovian response he’s developed over the decades -- an instinct borne out of the memory of a chase, of a hunt,of warm flesh twisting and stretching and tearing underneath his capable grasp, of muffled screams and kicking legs and the eventual, gradual descent into permanent stillness, of hands scrabbling desperately into dirt, into pavement, into carpet, as they scream his name and beg him -- no -- no, stop -- what are you -- Hanako-san--!

Blood. But, not just any kind of blood. 

Fresh, human blood.

Six months is a very, very long time to go without food.

The scent wafts from the messenger bag thrown haphazardly over Yashiro’s shoulder. Hanako claws weakly at it, burying his nose into the worn fabric and moaning in relief at the contact. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, breathy. The debauched soundtrack of his own muffled desperation would embarrass him, probably, if he were cognizant of anything other than the metallic tang filling his nostrils.

The last thing he remembers is Yashiro running her fingers through his hair, shushing him quietly. 

And then it all fades to black.

“Oh, Good. You’re awake!”

Hanako gets about halfway through a sarcastic reply before something is shoved past his lips. Something… familiar. Something -- bendy?

“Drink up,” huffs Yashiro, pushing the straw more firmly into his mouth. “You’re lucky we had a contaminated batch of bags today. I-it’s still safe to drink, though! Or at least… I hope… tell me if it tastes funny, okay? Jeez, Hanako-kun… I didn’t know you were so hungry! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

His lack of a response only propels her onward. 

“Well… I know you don’t like to talk about it… I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just sit and watch you waste away--”

“You knew?”

“... Um. Was I not supposed to know?”

“You knew,” Hanako repeats numbly around the plastic in his mouth, dumbfounded. “This whole time, you knew.”

Unimpressed, Yashiro raises an eyebrow. “That you’re a vampire? Duh. Allergic to garlic? And silver? And sunlight? I’m not stupid, and you aren’t nearly as slick as you think you are, mister.”

 The chuckle she gives after this quickly peters off into something more melancholy, a little bit darker in origin. From where she’s perched on the couch, leaning above him to adjust the straw’s positioning into the medical packet on his chest, Hanako can see the sorrow, there, in her big, doe-like eyes. 

“You never brought it up… and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries! I’ve never, erm, done ‘this’ before… if you couldn’t already tell. But since you never said anything… I just thought that, I don’t know? Maybe my blood wasn’t good enough to drink, or something like tha--”

“That is absolutely not the case.” 

He’s quick to cut her off. Too quick. “Far from it, really,” he attempts to joke in an effort to lessen the intensity of the blow, but the damage has already been done. Yashiro’s hand freezes around the blood bag, her eyes flitting up to lock onto his own. 

It’s unfairly attractive, the way her blush blossoms across her face. Hanako takes a long drag from the straw and swallows, never breaking his stare.

“I would… definitely be okay. More than okay. With doing -- ahem. That.”

“Drinking,” supplies Nene, so quietly that Hanako reads her lips more than he hears the charged word spill from her pink, glistening tongue. “You’d drink from me?”

What a question. Oh, if only she knew.

“Sure,” he hums, easily, “as long as you promise not to bring home anymore garlic bread. Especially not from that mangy mutt.”

“Hey, that isn’t very nice! Kou-kun isn’t… wait. You’re… you don’t mean…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god. That’s why you don’t like him!”

“His pack leader really, really hates me. Heh.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t look so pleased about that.” She says, with a fond smile. Hanako wants to taste it. 

On his next sip, he’s met with an ugly slurping sound. Normally, the fact that he’d sucked down a pint of blood in less than five minutes would be cause for concern. But his circumstances are not normal. His circumstances haven’t been normal for quite a good while, really, and Hanako can’t bring himself to think about it too hard. Not when his worst bad habit is within arms’ reach; not when she’s digging into her bag and procuring another packet of blood for him to puncture with the blunt end of his straw.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, awestruck.

“And I’ve got seven more where that came from! So just take your time, okay? No rush. I’ll stay here and make sure you get your fill… I promise.”

Hanako thinks he will hold her to that.

+1: Feeding

This is nothing like the first time, which is what he’d originally been terrified of. This is nothing like the second, or third, or fourth or fiftieth or hundredth time.

(How could it be? How could having her pliant and wanton underneath his capable grasp be anything other than pure ecstasy?)

Before he takes the plunge, he -- has to warn her. Again. Just in case she’s changed her mind. “Last chance,” Hanako breathes into the fleshy meat of her, the aroma of pumping blood doing unspeakable things to his mind. “This is your last chance to back out, Yashiro.”

She’s pretty as a portrait, the way she shifts and wriggles underneath his body reminiscent of the melding of a varied color palette coming together in one grand, epic composition. 

But he’s about to stain her in monochrome. 

“Don’t be gentle,” Yashiro gasps, dragging his hands to hold her down. “I’m not afraid o-of a little mess.”

You should have been, thinks Hanako, mournfully, as he paints his first stroke of bright, brilliant red.

[blueluneacy]

Soaps and Special Drinks

I wrote a giant melone x reader off a fantasy i had at work. enjoy

word count: 4k

warnings: delusional yandere, not sfw, breeding kink, stalking, public sex, aphrodisiacs, forced drugging, major dub con, does making someone uncomfy at work count? idk but its there

You didn’t hear her until she called your name for the third time, and when you did, you nearly fell over.

“Oh god, what happened, what did I miss, I wasn’t asleep, my eyes were open!” You yelled, leaving your manager to jump.

“(Y/n), it’s okay, don’t worry!’ She said, laughing a bit to herself. “Don’t worry, I was just going to ask about what was happening and if you needed anything. But it looks like nothing is happening.” She sighed. You nodded, looking around the shop. You worked at a small, handmade soap. The soaps in here were beautiful, but the shop itself was quiet, only getting a few customers. The bulk of sales ended up being online at the owner’s etsy shop, with the actual building simply being in their family for the last 300 years, making it hard to part with. You didn’t mind, the soap was nice, you often got to take some of it home, and the work was easy. But you couldn’t deny that god, it was really god damn boring. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Sorry, I’m just… Really bored.” You laughed, your manager just sighing.

“I can take the front of shop for a bit and you can play on your phone or something. You don’t have to just stand there all day.”

“I don’t mind it. Gives me time to think. Besides, I see you playing on your phone in front of shop all the time, I know that I can do it right here if I wanted to.” You hummed, your manager just rolling her eyes.

“I put it away when a customer shows up, don’t you worry. And what is it that you’re always thinking about, huh? A boyfriend?” She teased. You rolled your eyes.

“You know that I don’t have anyone like that in my life. I end up thinking about stupid stuff. Like what would happen if cows became four feet taller, or something.” You told her. It was a lie, of course, but you could never admit what actually went through your mind.

After all, how could you admit that you were just sitting there thinking about otome games and anime characters? It was nice to sit and think about lots of handsome men loving you. Maybe you played too many video games or watched too much anime.

“Alright, alright. Keep sitting with your weird thoughts.” She teased, the two of you laughing before the bell at the door rang as it swung open. 

The two of you stared as you saw the man walk in. He was so strangely dressed, and he was wearing a mask. Is this some sort of bad Dread Pirate Roberts cosplay? Half of his shirt was missing, which you sort of wanted to chalk up to bad sewing, but you also knew that it merely could be bad fashion. People around here are weird looking. He had choppy purple hair that covered one of his eyes, making you think that maybe the whole mask thing was meant to be an eye patch more than anything. You weren’t an expert in eyeball health. Still, you smiled brightly at the customer, not wanting to offend as you walked over to him, ready to assist in any way possible.

“Hello, Welcome! Is there anything in particular that you were looking for today?” You asked, Melone looking over at you before his eyes widened. God, you were just so… So god damn cute! The apron you were wearing hugged your curves so well, your body was so cute in the way you held yourself, smiling as you looked up at the man. He could just notice your tummy under the apron, a shudder going through his body as he saw your bright, smiling demeanor looking up at him.

“Oh, I heard that there were handmade facial products here? I’m looking for something a little more natural in my skin care routine.”  He replied, looking down to see your little name tag, smiling as he got the information. “Ah, I suppose then you could help me, (Y/n)?”

You forced your grin a little wider when he said your name, before nodding, waving him over and you brought him over to a little corner of the store. You don’t know why, but it seemed to only make you uncomfortable when people did things like read off your name tag. Which seems silly, after all, it was there for a reason, but still.

“Of course, sir, let me show you. Are you looking for something like a cleanser? We also have exfoliate scrubs, made all in house.” You told him. Melone just hummed, leaning over the products and moving a bit too much into your personal space as he pulled off his gloves. 

“You can call me Melone, sweetheart, no need for the formalities. And do any of these have scents in their formulas? I would hate to break out from oils…” He asked, touching his face lightly. You just smiled, shaking your head. You took note of his name, trying to keep yourself smiling

“Any scents that the product has is from the actual parts, not from anything we add. Like, our coffee ground scrub smells like coffee, because you know. We also have some regular facial soap, all in bar form, that we have, if you’d like to see. I can also make some samples for you, and we have a sink where you can try out some of the testers we have out.” You told him. He just smiled, nodding as he looked around a bit.

“That’s all well and good, but what would you recommend before bed? I need to remove my makeup, and so many cleansers are for the morning.” He complained. You just smiled, looking around and grabbing the giant pot of what you were looking for.

“Here we go! This stuff kills at removing any makeup. It’s made with shea butter, honey and rose water, with a little bit of tea tree oil in there for that calming feeling.” You said, reaching in and using a little spoon to put some on one of the little dishes your store carried, and then handed it to him. “Go on, go to the sink and check it out! You should also really check out our poppy soap too, it has poppy seeds in it which honestly? My skin has never been better.” You chuckled. Melone looked at you, before smiling and nodding. If that soap was what gave you such a glow, then he would definitely have to try it. You sighed as you went back to the counter next to your manager, watching the man as he washed his hands, his eyes widening before he grabbed one of the little papers you had next to the table, and a pen. Since everything here was served in whatever amount the customer wanted, the shop kept papers for customers to make a list of what they wanted.

“What is it now, daydreaming about a customer?” Your manager teased, leaving you to roll your eyes.

“Do you want him instead? He was all in my personal space.” You replied.

“Oh, cheer up, he wasn’t that bad. A little weird, but harmless. And you really need to get used to the idea that Italians don’t have a notion of personal space. You practically lost it when that old lady grabbed your hand.” 

“Hey, that was a while ago, that’s not fair! I think I’m used to it now, he’s just sort of creepy. Melone…” You mumbled his name to yourself, Melone’s ears perking up as heard you speak about him. Oh, your name sounded so good rolling off your tongue. He wanted to hear it over and over again, make you make the sound, scream it, moan it-

“I think I have my list ready, cara. Care to help me out?” Melone asked, coming over to the counter and leaning over it, handing the list over to you. You just took it from his hands, looking over the list before sighing.

“Can you get the bar soap while I get the cleanser?” You asked, writing down what you needed in the liquid before handing out the rest of the list to her. She nodded, walking off with a small smile on her face before you just sighed, going to get the cleanser. You grabbed one of the small glass jars you had, before putting it on the scale, taring it out after placing down the glass. 

“Five hundred grams, right?” You asked, only for Melone to nod. 

“Yes. It’s heavier, so it’ll be less than what I assume it’s going to be, so I might as well just go for it. I’ll use it anyway.” He replied, watching the way you reached into the pot and carefully scooped out the cleanser. You were so focused, he couldn’t help but imagine what you would look like in a domestic situation, maybe using a serving spoon to scoop out sauce for dinner, maybe just for the two of them. Maybe you would be in a cute little apron like the one you were in now, your feet bare and your hair loose as you grew heavy with his child-

In that moment, Melone felt a plan start to form in his mind.

The rest of the transaction went fine, in all honesty. Melone seemed as though he was suddenly in a hurry, that he forgot that he had something to do, purchasing his items and leaving with a quick “Ciao!”. You could tell that he was speed walking down the street, but you didn’t really care. Maybe you were over exaggerating, and he was just some normal gy, albeit oddly dressed. Still, it didn’t really matter to you. The fact that the store was empty meant that you could go back to your daydreams.

You were so grateful when the store finally closed. As the two of you locked up, you pulled your coat closer to your body, looking around.

“You should be careful now going home. It’s dark a lot earlier now, I’m afraid that maybe there might be some bad actors in the alleyways…” Your manager sighed. You nodded in agreement, the thoughts of how dangerous this city was becoming as Passione moved themselves in running through the both of your minds. Your manager had talked about moving, not wanting her kids to grow up here, and you couldn’t blame her. But both of you knew deep down that no matter where you went, the mafia probably lurked there somewhere.

“I will, don’t fret. Text you when I get home?” You asked, giving her a smile. She just smiled back and nodded.

“Don’t zone out and forget, alright? I’ll text you when I’m home as well!” She said, before waving, the two of you walking off in separate directions.

You hummed slightly to yourself as you walked down the street. You made sure to stay close to the streetlight, but you could swear that you could see something out of the corner of your eye, the feeling of being watched harsh in your stomach. You turned around often just to check, but no one was there. You must really be losing it today.

Still, it was like you were attracted to what was unknown. You instinctively started to move farther away from the streetlight, to try and see what exactly was going on in the shadows, but nothing was there. You barely even noticed how far you were in the dark until you passed by an alleyway. You didn’t even see the hand that shot out and grabbed onto your collar.

You immediately tried to scream, but you could barely make a sound as lips crashed into yours, your body pressed up against the wall as you squirmed. You winced as your head slammed against the wall, your vision tripling and a groan leaving your mouth and easily swallowed up by Melone. He pulled away, taking deep, harsh breaths, watching as you tried to focus on him.

“Don’t worry cara, it’s only me, didn’t mean to scare you, wanted to surprise you on your way home…” He cooed, pinning your hands above your head and moving to let his lips press against your neck, leaving light kisses and he hummed.

“Wha… Y.. You’re that guy from the soap shop! What are you doing, let me go!” You yelled, starting to squirm. Melone just pouted, as if you had told him a bad insult or you had genuinely hurt his feelings.

“Ah, don’t be like that, bambina. Are you mad because I embarrassed you at work? It’s alright, I’ll make it all better.” He hummed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small vile. He used his teeth to pull out the cork, before letting a drop hit his tongue.

“Yep, it’s still good. Go on, drink this all down, and you’ll feel much better, carina.” He told you. 

“Like hell I’m going to drink anything you give me-” Perhaps you shouldn’t have spoken. When you opened your mouth and started to yell at him again, he just shoved the vial into your mouth, pouring the liquid in before covering your mouth with his hand.

“It’s alright, I know it tastes awful, but you have to drink it all, amore, otherwise it won’t work.” Melone hummed. You just sat there, holding the foul tasting liquid in your mouth before finally caving and swallowing. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. When Melone felt that you had swallowed, he pulled his hand away, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Di molto… Good, thank you. It means a lot to me that would trust me like that.” Like you had any other fucking choice. You just let your eyes narrow as you continued to let them dart around for some sort of escape.

“What exactly did you fucking give me?” You hissed, Melone laughing a bit.

“Well, I suppose you’ll feel it momentarily, won’t you? Liquid medication only takes one to four minutes to assimilate…” He hummed. You swallowed, feeling that your mouth was starting to feel really dry. It felt like everything was getting hotter, until your whole body was on fire. You let out a soft whine when you finally opened your mouth to let out a few pants, suddenly out of breath, before squirming again. This time, to try and get rid of the heat that was engulfing you. 

“W-What is this?! Please, it’s so hot, what did you do?!” You cried out, internally cringing at how desperate your voice sounded. But Melone just ate it all up, leaning in to press his body against yours, the outline of his cock making you shudder. God, think, what was happening to you?!

“It’s one of the best aphrodisiacs out there. Only the best for you, bella, I want to make sure that you feel amazing throughout all of this…” He told you, before pressing his lips against yours. You tried to struggle, but god, you were feeling so weak as the drug coursed through your veins, and Melone’s lips felt so good against yours. You felt your knees get weak, your body slipping down the wall that you were leaning against as it became harder and harder for you to support your own weight. Melone just pulled away, watching you sink to the ground as if weighed down by your own lust, smirking to himself. You were so beautiful like that. Melone could see the way you were tugging at your clothing, trying to get them off in some relief from the hell that consumed you. He just chuckled, pulling you up and making you lean on him. You just ended up grabbing onto Melone tightly, trying to take deep breaths.

“Don’t worry bambina. I bet it hurts bad right now, doesn’t it? Maybe I should’ve opened you up first…” Melone thought aloud, before shrugging. Too late now. He reached down to start to pull your panties off, the other arm wrapped around you and firmly holding you against him. He shuddered at the way your soft body pressed up against him, holding onto him like it was the end of the world.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n). I’ll make this heat go away, make you feel all better. You’ll feel perfect and well once you’re fucked full of my children.” He hummed. Despite yourself, you just nodded, desperate for a suggestion that would mean that you would feel better. 

Melone practically jumped in delight, easily pushing two fingers inside of you, relishing in how wet you had become, to the point where you were starting to slick your legs. You moaned, gripping onto Melone tightly and starting to whine shrilling, babbling back at him.

“O-Oh fuck, that feels so good, fuck, please, Melone, pleeeeease…” You whined, already trying to buck against his fingers. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough, it just wasn’t enough to satisfy you, to make you feel whole again.

“You’re tempting me so much, bambina. You make me want to fuck you right now, god, you’re going to be so full when I’m done with you, my cute little wife.” He told you as he added another finger, scissoring you open. God, if you could hold yourself up, Melone would have no problem getting on his knees and eating you out until you came all over his face. He wondered what cute, fucked out faces you would make after cumming five, ten, a hundred times for him. He felt his cock twitch in his trousers and did his best not to get ahead of himself. He wanted to make sure that you felt just as good as he did, but god, you were making it so hard with those cute faces of yours! The way you were clinging to him, gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat, begging him for more, it was all so much.

“P-Please, fuck, more… It’s still so hot, please, need you so bad…” You mumbled, moving to rest your head against his shoulder as he thrust his fingers into you. He let out a low moan at your words, his hips slightly bucking against you for it. He was so pent up, not wanting to waste a single drop until he found the perfect person to fill up with it, and here you were, all perfect and begging him to breed you full of his children.

“Aww, poor thing. Perhaps I gave you a bit too much…” Melone sighed, pulling his fingers out of you and leaving you to whine in frustration. He pushed his fingers into his mouth and just moaned, shuddering as he tasted your juices. You grabbed onto him tighter, begging for some sort of relief from this hell. When Melone finally pulled his fingers from his mouth, he let his own lips crash against yours, pushing your back against the wall and pressing your chest against his to hold you up while his hands moved to rip his cock out from his trousers.

It was nice, bigger than you expected, and you could see that Melone was well groomed about himself as well. In any normal circumstance, you would be continuing to scream, but as Melone started to rub his cock against you, slicking himself up with your juices, you just moaned.

“Yes, fuck yes! Please, more, give me more, god, fuck me already!” You cried out, squirming and trying to make Melone’s cock catch to try on your entrance. Melone just groaned, moving a hand to grab your hip, before pushing into you slowly. He threw his head back as he moaned, his nails digging into you as he started to move, only pulling his cock out half way before slamming back, leaving you to whine in return.

“Oh, cara, you’re so tight, fuuuuck… You’re so perfect, fuck, my pretty little wife, gonna be such a great mother, fill you up and keep you full of my babies-” Melone groaned, leaning forward and leaning on your shoulder, babbling his nonsense into your ear. And you just ate it all up, nodding and wrapping your arms around him and digging into his back, whining.

“Fuck, yes, please… Feels so good, please, Melone, pleeease…” You whined, holding onto him tightly as you tried to grind against him. Your words were enough to really spring Melone into action, starting to pound against you wildly, mouthing as your neck and leaving harsh bruises. You just scratched at him in return, leaving red welts that might even turn into bruises tomorrow. Melone groaned at the idea of you marking him so primally, the feeling of you marking him as yours just as he was marking you as his. 

“God, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Love you so much, (Y/n), gonna keep you safe, warm, all mine, I’m yours just as much as you’re mine, fuck-” His teeth dug into his lip as he felt the way you were clenching down on him, the signal that your orgasm was fast approaching. Really, it was a miracle that you haven’t cum once or twice already, but perhaps it was something in the back of your mind that was holding you back, keeping you from finishing.

“Mmm, I can feel you’re close… Di molto, that’s perfect, do you want to cum while I breed you? It’ll be a great way to make sure it goes as far as it can.” Melone groaned into your ear, his voice sultry and husky in a way that filled your foggy head with static, only pulling Melone closer as you tried to chase your own orgasm.

“Yes, yes please, fuck, it’s too much, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum, please-” You mewled, on the verge of tears from how pent up you felt, grabbing onto Melone as if he would disappear if you let go.

“Fuck, good, then cum, cum on my cock, make me breed you, gonna fill you up so much, so perfect and soft and round, do it, cum for me, God-!” His voice was practically as a howl as his movements became jerky, before finally thrusting in and bottoming out inside of you, finally cumming. It was the feeling of him pushing inside of you that one last time that set you over the edge, a loud keen coming from you as you squeezed down on Melone, starting to milk him for all you could. 

The two of you rode at your orgasms together, quiet panting and whimpers from the both of you as Melone finally pulled out of you. You practically collapsed as he let you go, free from the burning heat but now exhausted beyond all belief. Melone caught you, holding you up with his arms and chuckling a bit. You shuddered as you felt some of Melone’s seed drip down your leg, leaving Melone just to purse his lips.

“We shouldn’t be wasteful like that. I should’ve brought a plug, poor thing…” He sighed, reaching down to scoop up what fell and push it back inside of you. You moaned at the sensation, giving him a look to let him know that you were much too sensitive right now. He just laughed at your expression, before easily scooping you up in his arms.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. We have all the time in the world once we get home.” Melone hummed. You stared at him incredulously, trying to figure out what the fuck he meant. You started to squirm a bit, but you were much too exhausted to really put in an effort to get away from him.

“Hmm? Well, of course I’m going to bring my wife home.” Melone hummed, petting your hair lightly. Your face went pale at the realization, but there was nothing you could do. Even if you could get out of his arms, you were too weak to run away away from him. You were stuck, hopelessly trapped with a madman, forced to listen to his deranged cooing as he made his declaration.

“We have a lot more work to be done if we’re going to make you a mother.”

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okayyyy here comes the next chapter ! Number .... lemme look. Okay, number six! 🥳🥳🥳

And yes, my thoughts as usual will be a messy, very Everlark-biased and full of typos. Letsss gooooo 🥰🥰🥰

Is this the first time Katniss and Peeta have been to their floor or is this just the most opportune time to explain and introduce the Tribute Center living quarters?

Also why are they called tributes anyway? That word suddenly seems weird to me after nine years... 🤔🤔🤔

“I've ridden the elevator a couple of times in the Justice Building back in District 12. Once to receive the medal for my father's death and then yesterday to say my final goodbyes to my friends and family” .... 😶😶 so only good memories and connotations to elevators then, huh?

“The walls of this elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air.” My mind is just imagining the elevator in Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone’s Spider-Man movies 🤗.

“It's exhilarating and I'm tempted to ask Effie Trinket if we can ride it again, but somehow that seems childish” this is so cute and innocent omg. Katniss, like I said in my last chapter blog, still has some childlike innocence left in her 🥺🥺🥺. I’m a sad.

Also excuse the unnecessary extra gif use but 🤭🤭🤭

Oh wow, so Haymitch hasn’t been around since they were on the train? No wonder neither Katniss nor Peeta fled they could trust him for basically the entirety of the first book. 😐😐😐

You know it’s bad when Effie being around feels like a blessing to Katniss. Girl has more restraint than me, I’d have ripped off this woman’s janky wig by now without remorse. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Effie acts like they’re her purebred show dogs. I know I know how is this news, that’s a blatant fact. The movies really softened her up tho for the general audience. And I bleed the movies and books together more than I should 😔😔😔

Well at least she’s made herself useful, trying to get Everlark sponsors ... even if it’s ultimately to benefit herself above anyone else .... 😤

Effie calling Twelve barbaric while she’s preparing them for the slaughter isn’t even ironic it’s like literally just brainless. Johanna probably had the nickname floating around for a lot of people before she officially knighted Katniss with it 😭

“Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district.” Is this how they refer to Twelve? So basically if a district makes a better item, it’s a more worthy one in the Capitol’s eyes? So essentially, if District Eight made like diamonds or pearls or whatever then it would be more worthy? So are the districts assigned their numbers (one, two, three, four, etc) based on their order of importance to the Capitol’s lifestyle? I always thought it was based on their distance in relation to the Capitol? Okay so I didn’t really pay much attention to these facts previously when I read these books ok look away I’m an idiot

Omg 😭😭😭😭 Effie is such an idiot. But the coal turns to pearls thing is my favorite line from her only because it serves as the cutest inside joke when Peeta makes a callback to it in Catching Fire and Finnick is just like “why are these two teenagers so stupid who did I ally with? 🥵😳🥵😳🥵”

“I wonder if the people she's been plugging us to all day either know or care.” After reading Songbirds and Snakes, I’m sure they don’t have a clue, boo. 😑😑😑😑 although not everyone was an idiot back then ... maybe Snow is putting lead in the drinking water?

“But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary.” I know she’s trying to help and I know we say this kind of thing today, but considering this is two kids she’s well aware will be heading into a death match this is just bad wording I know surprise surprise 🙄🙄🙄😬😬😬😬

“Although lacking in many departments, Effie Trinket has a certain determination I have to admire.” Katniss really does see the best in people. What’s sad, y’all, is I think Katniss unconsciously really tries to like people and that’s why she has her guard up so high. Because the softer you are, the easier people will step all over you. Terrible phrasing here, Samantha, I’m so sorry to any of my readers ... okay now that sounded arrogant, implying I have readers 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤣😅🤣😅🤣😅

“My quarters are larger than our entire house back home.” Omg? I mean, yes, I knew this already obviously no duh but like also. Just the fact that three people live in a space smaller than a bedroom and bathroom arena is saddy sad sad. Also do they have indoor plumbing in the Seam or is their backyards just full of—okay, I’ll see myself out. 😶🤭😅🙃

“The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options you can choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges.” I’m just imagining a Spongebob scene ngl.

I’m sorry there’s so many gifs this time around it’s probably taking us out of the reading headspace I’ll never do it again 😩😩😩😩 I talk like I have a class of people listening to me 🤭🤭🤭

“Instead of struggling with the knots in my wet hair, I merely place my hand on a box that sends a current through my scalp, untangling, parting, and drying my hair almost instantly” I need this someone invent this NOW my brush is yanking out my hair 😔😩

“I program the closet for an outfit to my taste.” ‘Yes, Alexa, I’d like a hunting jacket, some boots and a green shirt. Yes, it can be brown.’

“You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less than a minute.” I like this idea because it means that Peeta could order hot choccy to comfort Katniss after her nightmares in Catching Fire from the comfort of her their own bed. 🤗🤗🤗 also I want this for myself. The bad people are giving my greedy self ideas look away everyone 😬

“I walk around the room eating goose liver and puffy bread until there's a knock on the door.” 🤢🤢🤢🤢 Of everything you could have chosen, child, this is what you decided on? Someone help my girl and her rotten tastebuds now.

“Effie's calling me to dinner. Good. I'm starving.” Baby, you were just eating. She’s so nutritionally messed up. 😔😔😔

Katniss trying wine 🥳🥳🥳 she’s so funny, trying to find a way to improve the taste 😅. She’ll make a good taste tester for her baker husband one day.

Hahahaha Katniss not liking the feeling and judging Haymitch for always being tipsy. Also this is sad because she ends up addicted to morphling later one which is far worse than a little wine.

I’m glad to know Baked Alaska survived the apocalypse 😅🥳

Katniss just constantly trying to decipher the recipe of every meal and how to recreate it reads cute on a surface level but it’s actually so tragic because everything to this girl is based around food. Like even more than is typically noticed. They really should have given a hint at this in the first movie. Good thing she marries a man who can always keep her full.

I’m just forever side-eyeing you, Gare Bear.

That’s Gary Ross for the confused kids in the back.

Why does Katniss yelling mid-sentence, “oh! I know you!” add to her innocence? 🥺 it’s because she was overwhelmed by all the food and new luxuries she’d never even been able to imagine ... and also this is pre her first games so she’s still got some childhood left in her 😩😔

I wonder how Lavinia felt seeing Katniss volunteer and knowing she’d be her Avox? I wonder if she, like Cinna, somehow volunteered to be her Avox?

I mean ... talk about convenient placement that this specific girl was assigned to Katniss’ district—oh wait, y’all, I just caught myself. She’s from Twelve. She was assigned to Twelve’s tributes because she’s from there, duh. I’m such an airhead omg just call me Effie.

Don’t you actually dare.

“When I look back, the four adults are watching me like hawks.” Meanwhile, Peeta is just like 😬😬😬 eating his dinner.

Actually, ngl, this could be such a reach and it probably is but like maybe Peeta sensed a confrontation coming and, because of his implied upbringing, he naturally becomes silent or makes himself invisible when trouble starts looking like it’s gonna arise. 🥺🥺🥺 I don’t know why I say these things I’m just hurting my own feelings but ya know the drill. I thought it so I said it.

Why is Effie yelling at Katniss for saying she knows the Avox girl like omg overreaction much? And I know, the sky is blue 🙄🙄🙄 she’s prejudiced against basically everyone, I know, I know

Rip her wig off, Katty Deen 🤗🤗🤗

Oh I stupidly forgot that Avoxes are supposedly known by everyone to be traitors or criminals. So I suppose this isn’t Effie’s worst offense but I’m keeping a tally anyways

Katniss is blaming her stuttering on the wine but my girl just has social anxiety 😔😔😔

Peeta coming in with a save 😭😭😭 he’s already trying saving his girl 🤧

Alsoooo the unspoken friendship, the covering for the other and teaming up against the adults, is still riding high and going strong here 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 look away, y’all, the shipper comments are coming in strong

Also why is this the first real interaction with Peeta in this chapter yet? My baby needs more page-time 🤭🤭🤭

“Delly Cartwright is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish hair who looks about as much like our server as a beetle does a butterfly.” Now why did Katniss just tear Delly to shreds for no reason at all 😭😭😭 this was a surprise assault on the poor girl 🙃🙃🙃🙃

“She may also be the friendliest person on the planet - she smiles constantly at everybody in school, even me.” Okay not to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... but to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... this description of poor, sweet Delly is actually indicative of Peeta’s character? Since Delly, we find out in Mockingjay, is Peeta’s childhood best friend, her personality being this sunny, kind, good-natured person tells us Peeta has always probably been somewhat like her and perhaps not as much like the other town kids Katniss implies to be stuck up or snooty. Maybe Katniss is just shady and deflects onto others 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️.

Also the fact that she gives this like ... mean description of Delly but saw Peeta as popular, even though surely Delly and Peeta spent time at school together, implies further that Katniss did indeed harbor a secret crush on Peeta even before the reaping. A very mild comparison of his on her though, of course 😅😅😅

“It must be the hair” “something about the eyes too” their piggybacking on the other’s comments really is just chiefs kiss 😘🤗🥰🤧 FYI I know the saying is chefs kiss but I made the typo once a long time ago and decided to add it forever to my brand 🤗🙃🥳

Also though this Everlark interaction is reminiscent of when two kids get caught by their teacher goofing off in class and covering for each other 🥰 only it’s a lot more deadly stakes

“A few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of them can hold a candle to us.” She’s so modest 🤧🤧🤧 her narration here and during the Tribute Parade just has the vibes of ... well .... sorry in advance

Haymitch’s comment “Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice” leads me to think he and Cinna and maybe Portia were always in cahoots about the rebellion even before Katniss and Peeta came along and well ... lit their match on fire 🥁🤗🤣🤭

Katniss is like “rebellion??? Rebellion where??? What’s that you old people speak of???” And yet, girlfriend goes out to the woods and hunts illegally every day of her life 🤣🤣🤣🤣.

“But when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist” too lazy too look it up but there’s a quote from Ballad about Lucy Gray and Jessup being distinguished by their visible friendship too that set them apart from the other tributes.

Either Suzanne thought of drawing a nice parallel showing what a failed Everlark attempt looks like, because I firmly stand by the fact that without their real feelings behind their act, even Katniss’ unconscious ones, they wouldn’t have pulled it off, or Suzzie just reused her own content. I prefer the former but I think it’s probably the latter 🤭🤭🤭

“Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." I know Haymitch is being facetious here but this quote reminded me of the fact that the movies would have hit differently if they’d cast actual sixteen year olds in the roles.

“When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him.” This is such a flirty, high school boy pose, you cannot convince me otherwise 😭😭😭

Also I definitely feel like Peeta is getting more and more confident here because he’s oblivious to Katniss’ inner monologue as much as she is his actually we all are his sadly and he probably thinks she’s starting to like him 🤧🤧🤧

“So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." 🤣 He honestly cracks me up idk why this line isn’t even special or that great. He’s just so ... subtly nosy / funny. Which brings me to that quote from Mockingjay where Katniss talks about his sense of humor because it’s one of the things she loves most about him 😭😭😭

But he’s like, “I can keep a secret, Katniss, tell me who that tongueless chick is to you 😬”

Katniss stop talking about debts, friends cover for the other all the time 🙄🙄 I know it’s in her character stop yelling at a fish for swimming that’s not a real phrase I know that too

Okay first of all, they’re about to share a secret 🥰🥰🥰🥰. My shipper goggles are on tight and obstructing my vision. I know this and am proud 😬🥳🤗

And secondly, “Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.” Hey, butthead, you two are already friends. She doesn’t even recognize that the girl who constantly sits with her, talks to her, eats with her and trades with her is her friend either though, I’m shocked she calls Gale her friend

Does Peeta get to know Cinna too? I don’t think so but it’s mentioned now a couple times in this chapter alone that Peeta has interacted with Cinna. Katniss never interacts or has a conversation with Portia.... then again, is that even surprising? Katniss isn’t ... what you would call ... social. Hashtag relatable.

Awww, they’re communicating so effectively together 🥰😭🤧🥳

Also rooftops belong to Everlark only 😍😊😉 I mean, seriously, Katniss never goes up on a rooftop with anyone else. Besides Haymitch in the first movie but we ignore.

“Electricity in District 12 comes and goes, usually we only have it a few hours a day.” Earlier she said the Seam didn’t often have electricity, in particular, so either she’s not specifying her section of the district anymore or Suzanne is backtracking.

“But here there would be no shortage. Ever.” I’ve had two power outages recently so clearly the Capitol isn’t based on us currently today then 😐😐 I’m just joking ok

“I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?” .... boyfriend, where does your mind go sometimes? Peeta’s darker than we realize, y’all 🤭🤭🙃🙃

“He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space. There's a sharp zap and he jerks it back” between this and Catching Fire, Peeta is addicted to getting shocked by forcefields 🤧🤧🤧

“I wonder if we're supposed to be up here now, so late and alone.” If this was a romantic drama or comedy, that line would have meant something a lot more fun 😒😔😬😉😏

“On the other side of the dome, they've built a garden with flower beds and potted trees.” Is this meant to resemble Snow’s grandmother’s garden???? Like he had them put a garden there to like ... put a piece of his Grandma’am in the games? Idk this made zero sense it was a stupid thought

Two people in a garden at night, with wind chimes, sounds romantic in any other context. 🥺🥺

Ummm does everyone in the entire district know Katniss and her father used to hunt together?

Oh nevermind, Lavinia is not from District Twelve. My bad, guys. I should go up and edit my previous thoughts but that’s a lot of work. 😅😅😅

Katniss, stop being so hard on yourself. You and Gale were kids. 😣😣

Ummm, Katniss for a girl always complimenting Peeta’s storyteller, you’re pretty good at painting a picture yourself...

Peeta noticing she’s shivering 🥰🥺

He gives her ... his jacket 😭😭😭😭 such a romantic troupe Samantha, get over it there’s literally children dying

Oh wow, Lavinia was from the Capitol originally. Hmm, it is sus now that she got District Twelve this particular year.

But also 🤧🤧🤧 “he secures a button at my neck.”

His hands .... are .... often .... at her .... neck .... 😶😬 .... look away, y’all

Oh wow, Katniss is over here thinking, “who’d leave the Capitol if they were from here???” And Peeta’s like instantly, loudly, without hesitating, “well I would 🙋🏼‍♂️”

Hot take, y’all ready? Peeta was a bigger rebel than Katniss from the start. At least internally.

Awww, Peeta is so jealous 😭😭😭😭 and kind of nosy 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss : “me and Gale are not related” Peeta : “😬🙃😭😩😶”

“I'd set out to tell her I was sorry about dinner. [...] my apology runs much deeper. [...] I let the Capitol kill the boy and mutilate her without lifting a finger. Just like I was watching the Games.” I feel like this is actually a good comparison though, because of you grew up in a society where you have to watch kids die, your whole entire life you’ve watched it in a glorified television show, you would be really desensitized to it...

“You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.” Here she’s talking about Lavinia but it applies to Peeta too. Katniss was Lavinia’s last hope and she feels like she let her down but Peeta was her last hope once and he came through. And, as she said in chapter one, she’ll never forget him for it. And for other things too. Later on. 😏

Of course my last bullet point was focused on Everlark 🤣 is anyone surprised you shouldn’t be we all knew who this post was written by right? 😅

And once again, if too made through this marathon, congratulations 🥳🥳🥳🥳 maybe next chapter I’ll talk less not likely though so don’t count on it 😅

[tanakavox]

A look into the multiverse chapter 8 SAOA

Many thanks to my friend friend @bssaz97 for his work on the reactions. And TheGoldenBoy2188 for the strict for SAOA making writing easy. The next reaction will be a suprise so stay tune.

Amidst the streets of Mantle, Whitley Schnee walked towards a destination while wearing a disguise consisting of a coat, scarf, shaded glasses, and a flat cap. He had a mission and he would not waste this opportunity!

It was not every day that he could simply leave the manor without Father's permission or notice so he needed to be quick but not noticeable. He had waited months for this day to arrive. Whitley had pre-ordered the latest MMO game of his favorite game series a week before the initial release date and had come to pick it up. Having connections in the right places certainly did have its benefits. The only downside was he had to acquire his prize somewhere outside of his father's notice. So what other place to go than Atlas's sister kingdom.

Outside of his notice, a young white haired faunus woman with sheep ears followed close behind him. Fiona Thyme was out picking up some food for the rest of the Happy Huntresses when she noticed an unfamiliar person walking around. She knew almost everyone on this side of Mantle, so a new person popping out of the blue was very suspicious. Normally she would have reported this back to Robyn but upon further inspection she recognized who this person was.

It was the sole son of the worst man on Remnant and the newly appointed heir of the Schnee Dust Company, Whitley Schnee! Why was he here in Mantle?! Fiona determined he was up to no good and decided to follow him. Wherever the SDC goes, trouble usually follows!

Whitley finally arrived at the destination he was seeking… the Post Office! Now all he had to do was open the door, enter the establishment aaaaaand- stare dumbfounded as the inside of this place was a theatre.

"What the-? This isn't the post office. Where am I?!" Whitley shouted at no one in particular.

"Ah-ha! Caught you right where I- Huh? Where the hell? This isn't the post office!" Fiona also dumbfounded.

"Whitley?" Both Weiss and Winter stated in a mix of shock and disbelief at seeing their little brother. Maybe some hostility on Weiss part.

"Weiss? Winter? How-?"

"What the hell is this?!" A loud female voice shouted as four more people arrived out of nowhere. Consisting of two normal sized humans, a bunny faunus and a very large man.

"Coco/Velvet/Fox/Yatsuhashi!" Teams RWBY and JNR said collectively.

"Oh hello everyone! This… is a surprise! When did you get to Vacuo?" Velvet asked the group.

Fiona turned towards the new strangers, "Vacuo? What are you talking about? You're all in Mantle?"

"I'm most certain we're in Vacuo at the time." Yatsu spoke.

"You are in neither at the moment." Ozpin spoke up.

"What the- Teach? Weren't you supposed to be dead?!" Coco confusingly points out.

"I believe an explanation is in order."

*One short but informative explanation later*

"Wait so we were brought here to watch… alternate realities?" Fiona says after she and all the new arrivals had been told everything about the theater.

"We call them viewings but yeah pretty much." Ruby said.

"Hold on, I can understand why all of you were brought here, seeing as you all are huntsmen and huntresses. But that doesn't explain why I'm here." Whitley, having taken off his disguise.

"A great question indeed." Weiss mutters.

"I think I have a theory." Blake stepped forward. "So far now, I've noticed that the people who are here have at least some involvement in the viewings that we have been seeing. Remember that one viewing we saw of Whitley being stuck inside a video game?"

"I was stuck in a video game?"

"Also if you die in the game you die for real." Nora added.

Whitley's eyes widened at the implications.

"Well you're still stuck as far as we know. But apparently you're very good at the game so you might be fine." Jaune clarifies. Slightly feeling guilty that his alternate is the one who traps him there.

"Oh joy, now I'm trapped inside a place against my will in two realities!" Whitley throws his hands in frustration.

"Oh boo hoo! Is the rich boy gonna cry because nothings going his way today?" Fiona says in a mocking tone.

"Oh I'm sure you would know so much about crying and complaining about trivial things, thief." He shot back at Fiona.

"At least I think about the people of Mantle! When was the last time you thought of someone outside of yourself, Schnee!" Fiona retorted.

Winter sensing that this conversation was going nowhere stepped in between her brother and the happy huntress.

"Enough! None of us came here by choice so let's just stop this pointless arguing and move on."

Fiona huffed, "I couldn't agree more." She stomped away from the two siblings and found herself a seat in the theater.

Winter sighed, "It may not be ideal but as long as you are here Whitley, I would just suggest sitting tight and wait until you or all of us are able to leave this place."

"Hmph, very well. Thank you sister, it almost sounds like you care." Whitley took his leave and found a seat that was about four seats away from Weiss's team.

"Isn't there anywhere else you want to sit," Weiss practically hisses.

"Oh but Weiss it's the only seat that's close enough to you." Whitley affirmed.

Weiss groans in frustration, 'Hopefully it's only for one viewing…'

An acoustic guitar plays in the background as a montage of the events of and post-Episode 1 appears on the screen and a narrator began to talk.

" A month had passed since that fateful day. When everyone's world got all twisted, leaving them stranded in a castle in the sky. Since then, 2000 poor souls came to an abrupt and tragic end. Some by bad luck, others by sheer stupidity. I mean, really. Why would you just stand in fire? Anyways, that didn't bother The Kid none. He only cared about one thing, and one thing alone. Himself. 'Cuz in a game of life or death, you either live... or you die."

The scene transitions to Shirou leaning against a wall with an annoyed look on his face.

"What?! Two thousand of the players have died already!" Ruby yelled, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Not surprising, seeing as many of them looked weak last viewing." Cinder coolly replies.

Many huntsmen and huntresses glared at the red clad woman. She paid them no mind.

"Well thank you very much Narrator, you're doing a wonderful job of explaining the total death count of this video game prison." Whitley commented dryly.

"Oh, WOW. What brilliant insight! It's so deep it loops right back around to being stupid." Shirou snarked.

"The Kid ranted at no one, it slowly dawning just how alone he truly was" Narrator continued..

Whitley's eyes narrowed, "Am I being sassed by the narrator?"

"Maybe you said something to piss them off." Fiona added.

"Wait, what was that?" Shirou asks, shocked.

"He asked the sky, like a preacher to his silent gods."

"What gods? What are you talking about?! It's all bullshit metaphors with you!"

"He cried, not knowing the difference between a simile and a metaphor. The tininess of his brain dwarfed only by the tininess of his di-"

Whitley's eyes narrowed and face twitched at how much of an annoyance this narrator was being.

Weiss was doing her best to conceal her smile but was failing and breathes out a laugh. She was enjoying the exchange that her brother was going through and found it amusing. Her team gave her a side glance while Fiona and a few others laughed at the roast session the young Schnee was being given.

"Narrator off." Shirou commands the system with an annoyed tone.

"YOUCANSILENCEMEBUTYOUCAN'TSILENCETHETRU-" The narrator got cut off.

"Dick."

"Thank gods that's over, that narrator was extremely rude." Whitley sighed thankfully now that the narrator was silenced.

Weiss and Fiona grumbled that their fun was ruined.

Fade into December 2, 2022, on a strategy meeting led by man called Diabel. He gave a big smiled out to the crow

"Hey everyone. Thank you all for coming to our little powwow. Now, I know many of you may be discouraged by the fact that 2000 people have died so far."

" WHAT?!" A player screamed

" 2000 PEOPLE ARE DEAD?!" Another screamed.

"IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN A MONTH YET!"

"OH MY GOD, WE REALLY ARE FUCKED!"

"Pretty much, sucks to be you!" Mercury laughed.

"These are the people that have to survive this game. Honestly what was blondie expecting," Emerald facepalms.

"Hey! Just because they've lost numbers doesn't mean that they have to lose hope!" Ruby glared at the two assassins.

"And I know even more of you are a little down because we haven't even cleared the First Floor yet." Diabel added, trying to keep the smile on his face.

"WE HAVEN'T?!"

"I THOUGHT WE WERE ALMOST DONE...!"

"You were saying." Cinder looked back at Ruby.

"Well…" Ruby trailed off, thinking of a way to defend these players.

Diabel's smile wavered

"Uh, you guys do know there are 100 Floors, right?"

"WHAT?!" A crowd of players yelled.

Diabels sighed a bit.

Ruby, despite her best attempts, also sighed and sat back down.

"Oh jeez, I am just making things worse. Point is, we found the Boss Room!"

The crowd gasps.

"Now, we've formulated a few strategies with some help from the beta testers-"

"BETA TESTERS?!" A voice yells out.

"Oh goddammit!" Diabel groaned argnily

A player named Kibaou jumps in.

Kibaou, what do you want? Diabel looked tired addressing this player.

"Beta testers? They're the reason we're stuck in this game!" Kibaoyu sneered

Many that heard this player's statement and quickly frowned at his blatant accusations towards these 'beta-testers.'

"This guy can't be serious, right?" Coco stated.

Dianel looked at Kibaou flatterausted at the stupidity of the statement he heard

"What?! Do you have any evidence to back that up?"

Kiabrou scoffed at the question. "Pfft! Evidence. I don't need no evidence. Isn't that right, Jesus?" He points to a player named "Jesus"

" It's pronounced "Hey-Zeus", and I don't know you."

"Wow, really selling your reasoning by having no one else to support your claim." Jaune stated while crossing his arms.

"Well, they still should have helped us newbies!" He exclaimed

"If I might interject...:" A deep voice called out.

A big muscular man gets up and comes to the stage.

Velvet taps Yatsu's arm excitedly, "Hey you're in this game too Yatsu! …oh gods you're in this game too."

"So it seems," Yatsu, doing his best to keep a straight face.

Coco lowered her shades along with a confused look. As far as she knew, Velvet was the only one who played video games on their team. Unless...

"And who the hell are you?!"

"I am known by many names.", "Closed eyed demon. The memory easer., "Hooked clawed tiger". But you? You may call me... "Velvet".

"Velvet huh? That's a... pretty masculine name." Kibaoru said adwarkley

"Shouldn't be. It's a woman's name." Velvet replied casually.

"Damn it. I had a feeling but I didn't want to be right." Coco cursed quietly while shaking her head.

"Wait, why would Yatsu have a character named after me? That doesn't- ...Oh ...oh my gods." Velvet's eyes widened at the implications, tears starting to build. That is until she felt a nudge on one of her shoulders. She turned her head and there was Yatsuhashi looking at Velvet with a gaze that said, 'It's not your fault.'

"Kay, I don't know how to talk to you."

"Good. Then you can shut up and listen. Does everyone here have this book in their inventory?"

" Yeah.

" Yes."

"Yup."

"Yeah."

" No... Wait, can I change my answer?"

Velvet/Yatsushi held up a book to show to everyone.

" This book is full of tips and strategies on how to survive this game, put together by the beta testers. Everyone read it, yet some people still died. The beta testers did everything they could."

"Yeah, that means Mace Hair has no reason to blame the beta testers!" Ruby points out.

Many of her friends nodded and Yastu's team smiled at the sound defense his alternate presented.

" Actually, I didn't read it." One player chimed up.

"Yeah, I didn't read it either."

"I skimmed it."

"OH COME ON!" Many members of the audience shouted in agitation.

"What? Didn't ANY of you read it?! It is literally a matter of life and death." Velvet exclaimed

"Well, dude. It's like 80 pages." A player pointed

"2000 people are dead!"

"THEY ARE?!"

"Again. These are the people that have to survive this game." Emerald reiterates.

Brief pause. Shirou looks shocked at their stupidity.

"I am so done with you people." Velvet mutters, walking off the stage.

" What do you mean "you people"?" A player asked a bit offended.

The Faunus in the room narrowed at their eyes at the implications made by that player.

"What do you mean, "you people"?" Fiona asks no one in particular.

Velvet and Kibaou take their seats.

Diabel continued with the meeting. "So, as Mister Hooked clawed tiger was saying, this book has some great strategies, including how to beat the First Boss, Illfang."

He clears his throat and starts reading from the guide.

"So as you enter the Boss Room, he's gonna throw wave after wave of disposable minions at you... and you must answer in kind."...?

"Uh, what?" A player asks, mirroring Diabel confusion.

Many in the audience reacted just as confused. All except Whitley, who had a good feeling where this was going.

Diabel continues

"Send the weaker players first. Good rule of thumb: If a player asks you for gold 2 seconds after meeting you, front lines."

"Ha, serves 'em right!" Kiaboru said with a laugh

"If they hijack conversations to rant about their political views, front lines."Diabel said with a smirk looking at Kiaboru.

Kibaou went pale. "Aw, shit."

"Ha! Serves you right!" Nora laughed.

"If they ask female players for pics of their boobs, front lines."

"OH BULLSHIT!" One player screamed out in rage.

"THAT'S DISCRIMINATION!" Another one howled.

"BOO!"

Many of the women in the theater frown at the way those players reacted. Winter was more than certain that those players were the type that participated in the mentioned acts the speaker spoke on.

Diabel smiles and waves them down. "Now, now, people. I think there are some valid points being made here. Now, it goes on to say when Illfang's health goes into the red, he's going to switch from his axe and buckler to something called a "Talwar". At that point we should initiate a strategy called "The Final Solution" and- I'm just gonna stop reading! Jesus, who wrote this thing?"

Shirou giggles evilly.

"Of course Whitley wrote that book." Weiss sighed.

"Why sister, it sounds like that didn't surprise you in the least." Whitley pretending to act hurt.

"Please. The manipulative tone of the text almost makes one sound too much like you." Weiss bit back.

"Well I suppose you would know." A wide smile on Whitley's face.

Weiss scoffs turning her head away from her traitorous brother.

Team R_BY and Winter watched the exchange and sighed.

"Okay, so the guide's a bust. But it'll be fine. I'll come up with a great plan for us." Diabel smiles at the crowed.

"Like what?"

" Well... we... could... Uh... Uhhhh... I'm open to suggestions."

"Woah, guys, we could- we could, you know, like, group up and-"

"And hit it 'til it DIES!" Another yelled finishing the other player sentence

"Woo, nice!"

"Yeah!"

" High five!"

The two hive five.

"Well. It's something, right?." Velvet does her best to be optimistic.

Many of the more experienced members of the theater shake their heads.

"That's... a good start. But let's hear some other suggestions."

"I'd like to hear more about this "Final Solution"." A player in a german accent piped up.

"Fuck it, group up." said Diabel said tirely.

Shirou slides down the seats towards a girl, named Fiona, who's on her own.

Fiona blinks in surprise, "Oh my gods, that's me! I'm in the game! Hey other me, stay away from the Schnee!"

"You have my condolences." Weiss says to the sheep faunus.

"So, why aren't, uh, you joining anyone's group?" Shirou asked.

"I have my reasons." She said mysterioly

" Is it because you're a girl?"

"No. It's because... I don't know how to play."

"Because you're a girl?"

Many of the females and males who enjoy video games, such as Yang, Ruby, Velvet, Nora,, Jaune, Oscar, Ren, surprisingly Mercury and Emerald, along with Fiona herself, threw questioning glares towards the current heir of the SDC. Weiss and Winter glared at him as well but for other reasons.

Whitley looks around to see all the glares directed towards him. "Why are you all looking at me? I said nothing."

"No!" Fiona snapped. "It's just... I don't know how to open the menu."

"What?" Both Fiona and Whitley asked.

"Jinx!" Nora shouts.

"What?!" Shriou looked at the girl in shock. "But you can't do anything in this game without the menu. How have you survived all month?"

Cut to Fiona holding a piece of bread. She is staring at it intensely. "HOW DO I EAT YOU?!" She screamed at it.

Many laughs were had at the poor girl's predicament, despite some of them doing their best to not do so but could not help themselves.

Fiona slowly sank into her chair, covering her face in shame. Her alternate was the utter definition of a newb player.

Back to the present.

"It's... been a challenge…" She muttered before looking at Shirou. "What about you? Why haven't you join the others?"

"Oh, lots of reasons. Mostly because they're a bunch of mouth-breathing neckbeards who think "LMAO" is how French people laugh."

" Ha ha, that's so Le Mao!" Said one player far away causing to Shirou shudder.

Whitley in the theater also shudders in disgust. If these were the people that he would have been surrounded by inside the game, then he too would have avoided them like a plague.

"Wow. You certainly... speak from the heart."

"Funny, I thought I was speaking from my mouth. But, eh, shows what I know about biology." He said with a smirk.

"No one else wanted you in their group, did they?"

"Shut up! It was mutual!"

"And who would blame me? Have you seen the players of this game? I'm honestly surprised they lived this long."

"You're just saying that 'cause no one wanted a smartass on their team." Fiona smirked.

"I'm sorry, were you speaking Menu Girl?" Whitley nonchalantly retorts.

Fiona's face grew red in embarrassment and agitation. She wanted nothing more than to raise her hand and activate her semblance right now. 'Give me a reason Schnee, I dare you.'

It cuts back to Diabel smiling and clapping his hands.

"Alright, looks like everyone's grouped up. Get plenty of rest tonight, people! We leave at noon!"

A player groans "Noon?"

"That's so early!"

Diabel sighs. "Alright. What about 1 o'clock?"

" Dude, come on!"

" God, fine! We leave at the crack of... 2:30, I guess. Lazy butts…"

"Christ, I'm gonna have to set my alarm."

Everyone in the theater did not have high expectations for these players as they would face their first challenge.

Cuts to December 3, 2022 Floor 1: Illfang's Tower, 7:30pm. Everyone's at the Boss Door and everyone except Diabel is exhausted.

"Okay, so there were a few more stairs than we realized. Apparently real life athletic ability translates into the game. Good to know." Diabel looked out to the sad sight in front of him.

"Oh, god. I can feel my lungs trying to kill me." One player whined.

" Is this sweat?!"

" I peed a little."

" Jesus, this is sad." Diabel said with a grimace.

One player vomits.

"Congrats Jaune, someone else has now become the new Vomit Boy of this viewing!" Yang exclaimed.

Jaune rolled his eyes at her attempt at making him feel better.

"Fuck it. Why don't you all just take a Cheetos and Mountain Dew break, and we'll reconvene in an hour."

1960 Batman-Esque transition with Cheetos and Mountain Dew.

" Dammit, guys! I was kidding! You weren't supposed to actually take an hour!" Dibal said in a rage."God, we've lost so much time. Let's just do this already! You all know the plan!"

Illfang jumps into the center of the room and roars. Kobolds pop in, and an error message pops up on the third one that says "Error: "Sentinel_ " not found."

Ruby and Nora laughed at the mob that got glitched.

"Alright, men!" Diabel began,"Form up and-"

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" A player screams

The armies converge on each other.

"Are they serious! You can't just go gung-ho in a boss battle!" Jaune exclaimed at the increasingly apparent, dim-witted players.

"What?! No! Goddammit guys!" Diabel begins to bark out orders. "Squad B, quit attacking the Boss and keep the Sentinels off us! C, D, stop attacking from the front! Do you even know what "flank" means?! Squad F, for fuck's sake! Stop playing Bejeweled! *Groans* Squad G, get in there and help A and B!"

"Got it!" Shirou said with a nod rushing in.

"Don't talk back to…" Diabel did a double take."l Holy shit, really?!"

"How is Whitley the most sensible minded player in this game?!" Weiss asked.

"Weiss, have you seen the other players?" Blake asked her in a deadpanned tone.

"...Yes you're right, that's actually too much of an insult." Weiss admits.

Shirou attacks a Sentinel, leaving Fiona to finish it off.

"Okay, Fiona! What you're gonna wanna do here is-"

Fiona lets out a Battle Cry and kills the Sentinel in one hit.

Fiona in the theater perked up at this display, "Oh my- I can fight! Oh thank gods I can fight!"

Shirou eyes widened in shock "Wow, I thought she was hopeless, but her technique is flawless. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's even better than I-"

"Hey Shirou! I killed the thing and now it says I have XPs! Is that bad? Am I dying?! Fiona cried out to him in fear."

Shirou rolls his eyes"Or... maybe... not."

"Miss Fiona, either your alternate is very lucky or is very out of base with technology. I can't tell which it is." Whitley stated.

"Shut up Schnee, she's trying!" Fiona defends her other self.

Illfang's health drops into the red. He snarls at the players and he tosses his weapons.

"Alright, men! This last part's gonna take careful coordination…" Diabel ran towards Illfang. "which is why I'm just gonna do it myself!"

Diabel charges his weapon art. Illfang draws his Ōdachi.

Ruby's eyes widened, "OH NO!"

Shirou looked and saw the weapon and his eyes widened calling to Diabel. "Oh shit! Diabel, look out! That's not a Talwar! It's an Ōdachi!"

"What's the difference?!" Diabel ask still running towards Illfang.

"Well, a Talwar is of Indian descent while an Ōdachi is Japanese! While both are primarily slashing weapons, the Talwar was favored by cavalrymen, as opposed to an Ōdachi which was mainly used for dick measuring!" As Shirou is talking, Illfang starts jumping off the walls.

" What's your point?!" Diabel asked impaintely.

"Well if you let me finish, I was getting to that! You see…"

Diabel gets hit by Illfang, screaming in pain.

Many of the huntsmen and huntresses in the theater either gasped in fear or looked away at the surely doomed player.

"What's happening? Did I miss something?" Fox called out.

"Oops." Shirou sheepishly said.

Illfang hits Diabel again, sending him flying.

"DIABEL!" Kibaou yelled out.

Illfang pops down in front of Kibaou and roars. A message pops up "Bonus Item: Soiled Pants". Above Kibaou

"Hey, rare drop!' A player said cheerfully.

Mercury laughed at the joke while most of the others were disgusted by the fact that that achievement was unlockable.

Shirou runs over to Diabel and holds him up.

" I was trying to say an Ōdachi's a little bit longer than a Talwar, so it'll have more reach and do a bit more damage."

"And why couldn't you say that first?" Diabel asked weakly

"Yeah you dummy! You almost might've killed him!" Ruby cries out.

Whitley was actually taken aback by that statement. Sure he had moments of pride and arrogance, sometimes he looked down on people but he didn't believe he would ever intentionally kill someone.

" I like to think of myself as a teacher. Anyway, drink this."

Shirou tries to give Diabel a healing potion but he stopped Shirou shaking his head.

"No. It's better this way. I just can't do it anymore. I had such high hopes at first. But now? Our best player is a girl who thinks DPS is some kind of sex thing." Both turned to glance to Fiona.

"I know. It's weird, right?"

Fiona sulked more into her chair.

"You're clearly not like the rest of them. How do you stand it, Shirou? Where do you draw your strength?" Diabel look at Shirou like a sage.

Shirou sigh and drops his wisdom onto him. "I've been playing MMO's a long time, Diabel, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that lions do not concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Just take that little voice in your head that tells you to be tactful and understanding... and shoot it. Shoot it in the goddamn face."

" You are so wise. If only I'd met you sooner. Perhaps, things would have been different. You must lead them now. Show them this game can be beaten." Diabel let's go of Shirou wrist.

Weiss was taken aback that this man was actually willing to place trust in this alternate of her brother. This stranger who barely even knows him placed the lives of all the players into his hands. Much like how she tried to trust Whitley once… this caused a bitter frown to grow on her face in recollection. Even if this was a different version of him, it was still Whitley in her eyes.

Shirou smiles fondly at Diabel. "Another life... in another time... I think we could have been friends."

"I... doubt it." Diabel gasps out before turning to shattered glass, dying.

" Well fuck you, too!" Shirou said angrily his smile dropping into a frown.

Fiona slips in by Shirou's side and began to lay out a plan.

"Alright, Shirou. Here's what we'll do. One counters his blows to knock him off balance and the other switches in to attack. Rinse. Repeat. Victory."

Shirou looked at her with one eye. "You came up with that, but you can't open a menu."

"Shut up!" Fiona cried out.

Illfang roars and they take off running toward him.

"Alright, so you counter and I'll attack!" Shirou yelled to Fiona.

"What? No, it's my plan! I should attack!" Fiona yelled back.

"Fine, just get ready!"

Shirou makes a battle cry and counters Illfang's attack.

"SWITCH!"

Fiona moves in and gets her cloak destroyed by Illfang before attacking revealing white curly hair and sheep ears.

" See? You almost got yourself killed! I'll attack him!" Shirou yelled again and began to attack Illfang.

"Oh, that was a fluke, and you know it! He's mine!" Fiona yelled back.

Fiona attacks Illfang.

"Oh shit. They're actually giving that boss the work!" Coco called out.

"He's mine!" Shirou yelled.

Shirou blocks Illfang's next attack, but Fiona attacks him before Shirou can do so himself.:

"Mine!" Fiona screams

"NO! HE'S! MIIIIIIIIIIINE!"

Shirou slices Illfang and he explodes. Everyone is stunned. Lame party kazoo sound effect and a banner with the word "CONGRATULATION" appears.

"Yeah!" A player cheer.

This caused almost everyone in the audience to laugh. Despite the dark humor of it all, it was still pretty hilarious.

"What happened? Did they win?" Fox asks

"Oh yes, I'm sorry Fox! They beat the boss and a victory banner came out."

"...heh." Fox chuckled.

Shirou is panting. He gets an item as a reward for defeating the Boss.

"Congratulations!" Velvet said, patting him on the back. "That was even more impressive than that cat that learned to play."

Cut to a player with a cat's head, with another player staring at it.

"Meow."

"Huh what did you know?" Yang replied.

"Oh my god! You guys can see it too?! So I'm not crazy! Isn't that great, Jesus?!" We see things from the players' perceptive, with a giant hallucination of Jesus Christ looming over the crowd.

"That's right, Jeffrey. Now... kill them all." Jesus said, his voice growing darker.

"As you command, my Lord." Jeffrey whispered.

"Somethings very wrong with that guy." Qrow states.

"I honestly agree with you, Branwen… Blegh! That left a horrible taste in my mouth." Winter stated.

Cut back to Velvet talking to Shirou. The other players are applauding his victory.

"You've led us to victory, Shirou. These men and I will follow you to hell itself. Now... address your people." Velvet is smiling and pushing Shirou to the crowd.

Shirou gets up and smirks. "I always knew this day would come. Ahem. Fellow gamers! We have traveled far and up many stairs to get to this point. Fighting side by side, noobs, and leets, alike. I'd like to take a moment to say that I couldn't have done it without the help of each and every one of you."

"Aw, that's a nice thing to say-" Velvet was cut off when Shirou counties.

"Of course, I'm not a liar, so I'm not gonna say any of that."

"Oh shit."

"I thought as much." Weiss states.

Shirou grins look at the group. "I mean, really. I could've done this whole Boss Fight myself. But to be fair, I guess you did absorb a bit of damage for me, which was nice. You were an adequate meat shield, and no one can ever take that away from you."

"Fuck. Fuck! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Velvet started to say.

"So for those of you who came in late, and that one guy playing Bejeweled back there... shoot for the stars... it'll make it more fun when I kick you back into the dirt."

"You're not better than us!" Kiaboru said.

"Yeah! What makes you think you're so cool?!" Nora shouts to the screen.

Shirou equips the coat he got for beating Illfang and smugly looks at the group."My sweet-ass coat begs to differ."

"Dammit, he's got us there." one player muttered.

Shirou ascends the stairs out of the Boss Room. Fiona follows him and grabs him by the shoulder. "Shirou, wait!"

Those in the audience looked on at Fiona's alternate in hope. Surely she could turn him around after their excellent display of partnership.

"I want half." She said, staring at him blankly.

That hope was quickly squashed, shot at, and finally burned to death via gasoline and cracking a fire dust crystal.

Shirou turns to her confused. " I'm... sorry. What?!"

"I want half the coat. I did half the work, I should get half the coat." Fiona explain and extends her hand for him give it to her.

"No! It's not fabric I can cut! It's just a bunch of 1s and 0s!" Shirou was getting frustrated.

"Fine, then give me the 1s."

" Fuck you! I want the 1s!" He groans and open the menu. "I am not having this argument. I'm disolving this party." Shirou opens his menu and "Di-solves" their party.

"Shirou! If you walk away with my half of the coat, I will make your life a living hell!" Fiona screamed.

"You know what? Fine! I'll give you the damn coat! Just send me a trade request."

"A... what?"

Fiona's eyes widened as she watched from the theater, "No…"

Shirou grins viciously "Oh, it's quite simple really... Just open your menu." Shirou starts laughing maniacally as he walks out the doors as Fiona screams at him:"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" At him.

Outro Plays.

Fiona screams, "I can't believe the nerve of that-! GRAAAAH!"

"Can you please stop screaming! You're going to cause everyone's ears to bleed." Whitley said while using a handkerchief to rub his ears.

Fiona huffed then matched off, going to another place in the theater.

"Well that was interesting. So you all say there's other viewings where we see other worlds besides this one." Coco asked the group.

"Oh yeah, we've seen a couple worlds ourselves, but only a handful I'd say." Yang admits.

"Well as long as we're here, we might as well take time to catch up." Velvet smiled.

"Yeah, this will be great! It's almost like we're back at Beacon, right Weiss? ...Weiss?" Ruby looks beside her but noticed that her partner was not with them anymore.

In another side of the theater, the all three Schnee siblings stand together. Both of the youngest siblings look at Winter who brought them here.

Winter clears her throat, "I understand that there are some… tension between the three of us during this viewing. So I asked you both here so that we may come to terms with our situation."

Weiss scoffs, "Come to terms with him! I highly doubt that."

Whitley crosses his arms, "Yes it does seem like a lost cause Winter."

"Enough! Both of you!" Winter raised her voice causing both of her younger siblings to go rigid. "I'm not expecting you to get along or even apologize to each other at the moment. What I ask is if you two can at least act civil with one another while in the theater?"

Both Weiss and Whitley looked at each other and sneered at each other.

"Why of course I can be civil with Whitley. It is a virtue of a lady to be civil at all times." Weiss said with hidden venom.

"Quite true, but being civil is also a quality an heir of the Schnee family must cultivate as well. So I look forward to spending this immeasurable amount of time with you my sisters." Whitley said with his best presentable smile.

"Yes, how I enjoy us taking this time to reacquaint with each other." Weiss said while one of her eyes was twitching.

"Well then sister, shall we?" Whitley gestured for Weiss to go ahead of him. Almost would have been believable if one did not notice the glint in his eyes and his strained smile.

Winter watched as both Weiss and Whitley walked back to the auditorium where everyone else had remained.

"...This can only end badly."

Hope you enjoyed.

[good-rwbyaus]

AU where instead of Jaune having a semblance that turns him into a harem protagonist, his semblance let’s him turn OTHER people into harem protagonists.

// Yes. Good. Time to suffer Blake. 8D - mod lilac

Title: JAUNE IM GOING TO KILL YOU

“You! You did this!”

Oh crap. The last person he wanted to see was here, and here he was still stuck in a hospital bed from the Battle of Beacon, unable to escape or run away. He couldn’t help sweating as the dark-haired faunus approached, hand pressed against her abdomen, and then leaned forward without doing anything.

For a moment, he hoped. And then the hands around his neck proved that hope was nothing more than a four letter word for lie. Immediately, the other girl started tightening her grip and shaking him against his bed, head banging against his pillow.  

“When I said it might be interesting to become a Ninjas of Love protagonist, I didn’t mean you using your Semblance on me in real life,” Blake screamed angrily, “Do you know what sort of month I’ve had because of you?”

“Acck. Blake. I need to breath. Blake,” he said as he patted the other girls’ arms to mark his submission. He wasn’t actually getting hurt, but as he knew from living with seven older sisters, sometimes the feeling of getting revenge justice was enough.

Otherwise, if they don’t think you’ve suffered enough, that’s when your life gets miserable.

“I thought everyone around me was going crazy! Everyone proposing to me out of the blue,” Blake screamed, “And they were!” She loosened her grip on Jaune’s neck as she took deep breathes, “Then Pyrrha came to visit me, and since she still seemed sane, I told her what’s been happening to me. Guess what I found out. Apparently Jaune Arc has a semblance that turns people into harem protagonists!”

“What did I do to you to deserve this?!” Her hands twitched again as if ready to go for another round of strangle the blond.

His hands immediately went up to prevent such a thing from happening.

“Blake. If you choke me to death, this is going to keep happening.”

“Jaune. If you don’t stop it now, I will throttle you and then run home to Kuo Kuana.”

“It can’t be that bad. What, you got proposed to by three or four peopl-”

Blake’s eyebrow and ears began twitching.

“...I take it that’s not what happened.”

“Three or four?!”

“...Maybe you want to tell me what’s going on before you extend my hospital stay,” Jaune asked carefully. The girl glared at him before taking a deep breath.

"It all started with Sun...” 

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

Sun:

“Hey Blake. I was thinking about you, and I got you this,” Sun smiled, rubbing his head sheepishly. An amethyst necklace, beautifully displaced inside a red package, laid in his other hand, shining brilliantly.

The sparkle - the shine - they caught her eye immediately. It glittered and caught her attention in a way that really tickled her, but she couldn’t help but glance at the package the necklace was in. And that dropped cold water onto her appreciation. She frowned. 

She lifted her gaze to meet Sun’s. 

“Sun?”

“Yes?” Sun asked excitedly. 

“Did you steal this?”

Sun averted his eyes as he continued speaking confidently. 

“Why I’d nev-” 

“The security tag is still on it.”

“-er think about giving you something I haven’t stolen myself.”

Blake just glared at the boy who quickly excused himself. 

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

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Blake said, “But random people started - out of the blue might I add - propositioning me while the Vytal Festival was going on - especially Shade Academy. I just thought they were an overly forward bunch cause they were part of the whole “live hard, live free” crew. ”

Blake stared darkly at Jaune, who just slid lower into his hospital bed.

“But then my team got involved.”

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

Ruby and Yang

“Blake~”

“Blake!”

“Ruby? Yang?” she turned around for just a moment, only to be immediately accosted by the two sisters. Ruby hung to her right arm, and Yang hung onto her left arm. They spoke at nearly the same time. 

“You’re looking incredibly dashing today, Blake, “ Yang said with a wink. 

“You’re so pretty today,” Ruby said in awe, “That is not to say you’re not prett-” The awkward girl trailed off before finding a way to quickly change the subject.

“Stop copying me, Yang,” Ruby said with a pout.

“I said it first,” the other girl grinned.

Uhhh. What was going on? First Sun, then the random people, and now Ruby and Yang.

“So what about going on a ride with me and Bumblebee through the town?”

“No, Blake’s going to go with me to Vytal’s Weapons Exhibit, not on a boring ride with you.”

“What’s so great about looking at a bunch of old weapons?”

“You take that back! Can’t be any worse than just driving around boring Vale.”

“Wel-”

Maybe she should stop this before things get worse. 

“I already have plans - uh - to stay in Beacon and curl up near the fireplace and read an interesting book that I recently purchased,” Blake said carefully as she lightly twisted out of the sisters’ grips.

Ruby glanced over at Yang, and Yang at Ruby.

“Why does that sound really similar to the words you said to us on the first day we met?” Ruby said.

“Well, she was probably just saying that just to get rid of you.”

“No, she was telling you to go away. She liked me when we first met, “ Ruby said smugly as she pointed her thumb at herself. 

“Let’s ask then. Hey, who were you telling to g- No. I thought of a better question. Who do you like more, Ruby or me?”  

As a connoisseur of horrible romance novels, she knew that question was a horrible trap. She needed to use all her tactical skills to escape this situation.

Step 1. Stall.

“I-I-I like you both,” Blake stuttered out, already seeing the dissatisfaction on both girl’s faces.

“That’s a copou-”

“C’mon, Bla-”

Step 2. RUN.

She then created a clone to distract them as she crashed out of the nearby window. A pair of affronted screams could be heard as she ran for the treeline.

Sorry, clone. 

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

“I’ve been camping in the Emerald Forest to avoid them,” Blake said frazzled, “Do you know what it’s like to be the subject of sisters trying to compete for affection?”

“Uhhh yeah,” Jaune laughed, “I have seven older sisters, you know.”

“Why would you do this to me then?”

“Ahaha. Sorry, but you were the one who expressed interest in the life of a harem protagonist.”

Blake’s gaze moving between his pillow and his face probably wasn’t a good sign. 

“Uhh. So that’s it?” Jaune said quickly.

“No! It affected my entire team!”

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

Weiss:

“Uhhh Weiss. You didn’t have to prepare all this,” Blake said, not quite able to stop her drooling. In the middle of the Emerald Forest was a small seafood banquet, and to someone that had been living with her own subpar cooking skills for a week, it was a godsend. 

“It was my pleasure. It’s been a long time since we could just sit together like this,” Weiss said daintily, sipping her tea on the table she prepared, complete with cloth drapings. 

“Yeah, especially since Ruby and Yang seem to have gone insane.”

“How so?”

“The last time I went back to Beacon, Ruby tried feeding me her home cooking, and I nearly died from the taste. Yang taunted her because her own cooking was miles better, and now Ruby’s on a quest to improve her cooking and making me the taste tester.”

Weiss winced sympathetically before smiling. “Well, you’re here now. Just take a seat and just enjoy the food.”

“Thanks,” Blake said as she sat down, grabbing a couple dishes and devouring them as fast she could endure. 

It was then she felt a peculiar feeling against her calf. Thinking it was just a bug, she just swung her leg, and the sensation went away. 

But after a couple more seconds of dining, she felt it reappear - and it was now on her knee now. 

Immediately, she lifted her head from the dishes to stare at Weiss, who had an innocent smile on her face as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“Weiss?”

“Yes, Blake?”

“Is thaaaa...”

Warning bells started ringing in her head; that foot now on her thigh was reaching just a tad bit higher inch by inch. And immediately, she stood up, face burning like it’s been out of the sun.

“SorryWeissIrealizeIhavetogocatthefeedBye!” she spilled out in a panic as she ran like a Goliath was after her.

As she entered into the woods, her ears caught Weiss’s parting words.

“Wait Blak-. Does that mean Blake isn’t into this sort of stuff then?”

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

“As it so happens,” Blake said rubbing the space between her brow, “a couple of my Ninjas of Love books have gone missing from underneath my bed mattress. The one with that dinner scene in particular.”

“Sounds like you read some really raunch-”

Blake slightly reddened and sent Jaune a glare.

“Uhh, sorry. So that’s gotta be it then.”

“No. Because guess who also has a sister?”

“Weiss has a sister?” 

Blake sighed.

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

Winter:

“I wanted to see the girl who had my sister’s affections,” the white-haired girl who looked a lot like Weiss said calmly. She had cornered her inside a cave, out-maneuvered her to the point where she had to hide - and still found her.

Winter’s hand lifted her chin. “You really....are pretty.”

Her face burned red at the affectionate gesture. 

Shadow.

Run. 

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

“That doesn’t sound like a confession though, “ Jaune said skeptically.

“With the way my month’s been going,” Blake said dryly, “you really want to bet on that?”

Jaune shook his head laughing nervously.

“No bet. No bet,” Jaune waved his hand. 

“Besides she was part of the cavalry during the Battle of Beacon.”

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

Adam:

“Adam, I’ve never thought about you that way,” Blake choked out, the pain through her gut making her curl onto the ground.

“What! You can’t deny me. You’re mine. And you always will be. And if I can’t have you....”

Her once mentor’s blade shimmered in the flames, pointing towards her neck as she struggled to ready her Semblance. 

“Hey! Someone’s trying to kill Blake!” someone screamed out. It sounded a lot like Yang. 

A blur of fire and ice practically detonated the spot Adam was standing in, sending him to the wall opposite to her charred worse than Ruby’s cooking. Familiar figures dropped in through the roof, took one look at her, and then charged towards her assailer with unmatched ferocity. 

Adam proceeded to get his ass beat by the rest of Team RWBY, Sun, Winter, and Cinder.

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

“Wait wait wait. Cinder? How does she enter into the picture?” Jaune said incredulously. 

“Apparently she’s the mastermind behind everything,” Blake shrugged, “According to her confession, she took one look at me and realized all the wrongs she’d done and wanted to work hard to atone.”

Jaune couldn’t help but stare disbelievingly at that.

“Winter’s boss couldn’t believe it either,” Blake pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I guess all’s well that ends well. You got saved, Vale’s still standing. All of us are alive,” Jaune laughed.

“Yeah, except for this little problem of me having a harem!” Blake growled.

“Wait. Where’s Blake?” said a voice outside the room.

“She’s awake?!” said another voice.

“She shouldn’t be walking around like that. Should be resting with the best medical care Vale could offer.” said a third. 

“Crap. They’re here,” Blake said frantically, glancing over at a nearby window. “Fix this, Jaune, or you’re not going to like what happens next.”

Opening the sliding window, the girl dove through and quickly skedaddled towards the treeline of the forest that was becoming her home.

Meanwhile....

Jaune felt a foreboding feeling as his room door slid open, and the stares of three panicking members of team RWBY settled on him. 

“Jaune, have you seen Bla-” Ruby said before her gaze locked onto something at his side.

Jaune glanced over to see what Ruby was looking at - the open window.

“So, Jaune, what do you think you were doing with Blake alll alone?” Yang said with a smile that wasn’t a smile.

“Ehehe. Nothing. I’ve just woken up. I didn’t even see her today.”

“Really? I don’t think you’re telling us the truth,” Weiss said calmly, “Ruby?”

“Yes?”

“Close the door.”

Sweating, Jaune clandestinely started pressing the nurse call button under his sheets, hoping someone would come before these three had their way with him. 

[taylorinthetardis]

Wallflowers - A Henry Cavill x Reader fic

So I did a thing! Rather than continue to work on my larger, more complicated Pride and Prejudice fic, I decided to make a fanfic out of the fantasy I had at work the other day!

There will most likely be a part two to this, I just thought I was at a good stopping point and wanted to see what you guys thought about it.

Full disclosure: I didn’t mean for this to whole ass turn into a Bath and Body Works ad, but it kinda did. For those of you reading in countries that do not have Bath and Body Works, its basically just a body and home care store. In the US their scents are legendary. Pretty much every young girl went through a BBW phase where that was all they used for soap and perfume. That all being said, in the interest of further disclosure and covering my ass, I own neither Bath and Body Works nor any of the trademarks on the scents listed herein. I also do not own Henry Cavill because owning human beings is a crime.

This is my first Henry fic so be gentle with me! It’s a bit longer than I had anticipated and un-beta’d.

Warnings: just a lot of fluff. some self-deprecation. loads of swearing. don’t know if I should warn for slight bashing of the religious but I will anyway so no one gets mad at me.

Wallflowers

It was shaping up to be another boring ass day at Bath and Body Works. I had started working here during the Pandemic after I was laid off from my job at the movie theatre. I had planned on it only being temporary, but even after things got better and I got my theatre job back, I decided to stick around. What can I say; a bitch is broke. Nothing wrong with double-dipping.

There was something about Sunday mornings in the mall. Probably because people around here still went to church in the mornings. Like it matters. Sunday mornings are always so slow, here and at the theatre, but the day always picks up after 1, when morning church services finish. It was me and Samantha up in the front room this morning, working out the leftover boxes from yesterday’s shipment. She was one of the first people I really bonded with here, both of us being super into both Marvel and DC, specifically Sebastian Stan and Henry Cavill. They had just started filming the next Superman movie and they were going to be shooting scenes up in Michigan again, like they had for Dawn of Justice.

“I’m just saying, we should really consider asking for a few days off and just going up there and scoping it out. I mean, it’s Henry fucking Cavill. He’s less than an hour away from us. Right now. Less than an hour. When is that ever gonna happen again? I can use some of my vacation time at the theatre, so at least I’m not missing out on money from them. It’ll be a blast. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t see him? I mean at least we’d have tried. I’d rather try than stay down in stupid Ohio with the knowledge that he’s that close.”

“Do you really think Ann’s going to give us time off to stalk Superman?”

“We ain’t gonna tell her what it’s for! Just lie, c’mon now.” I laughed. I dropped a box of Gingham body cream into the understock drawer and broke the box down. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement, oh goodie, a customer. Samantha was quicker to greet them.

“Welcome to Bath and Body… OH MY GOD!” I turned around and was met with the sight of none other than Henry fucking Cavill, sheepishly running his hand through his now jet-black curls, obviously embarrassed at having been recognized. Damn, am I glad I put make-up on this morning. Alright Y/N, this is your fucking chance. For once in your damn life, be fucking cool. You can do this. You look good, you smell like Champagne Toast, you’ve got this. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out a bit before walking over to where Samantha was still trying to collect herself. The store radio started playing Halsey’s Bad at Love and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation we were now in. Not five minutes ago we were talking about seeking him out and now here he was in all his brick-shithouse-ness. I looped my arm through Samantha’s in a show of support.

“What a wonderful coincidence! We were just talking about you and now here you are! It’s crazy how the universe works, isn’t it? I’m Y/N, this is Samantha; what can we help you with today, Henry?” I smiled my most adorable smile at him, the one that makes my little cheek dimple pop out, and, honestly, they both looked shocked. Samantha was clearly surprised that I was more capable of speech than she was, and to be honest so was I, and Henry seemed shocked that I would openly admit that we had been talking about him before he got there, which probably wasn’t a great thing to say, but I panicked.  

“Well, I was told this was the best place to go for candles and air freshener-y type things. The house I’m renting just has this odd odour that I can’t get rid of. I’ve been airing it out during the day, all the windows open, and I come home and it still smells funky. I know I could just find a different place, but it’s close to a park and that’s been nice for Kal and I don’t want to make a fuss, so…” Henry sort of shrugged, the buttons on his plaid shirt straining with the movement of his broad shoulders, and gestured around the store as if to say “that’s why I’m here”.

“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. All of our home care is in the second room, grab a basket, I’m sure we can find you some scents you’ll like.” He walked over to the basket tower to grab one as a couple more customers walked in. Samantha nudged me towards the second room; I was going to have to handle Henry alone for now, it seemed. He followed me over to the Wallflower wall. “So, these are our Wallflowers. They’re sort of like the Glade Plug-ins, I don’t know if you’ve seen those, you plug this diffuser into any power outlet and screw the fragrance bulb in and it diffuses the scented oil into the room. They last for about a month or so. These’ll probably be the best option for you, well these and maybe a room spray or two to start with. The candles are good, but obviously the scent is gonna be strongest when they’re burning and it’s probably not a great idea to light a bunch of candles and then leave for the whole day.”

He chuckled. “No, I’d say you’re right about that. I definitely don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Are there any scents that you’d recommend?”

“Well, I mean, it obviously all depends on your personal preferences. I like sweet scents. I like my space to be smelling like a bakery or a candy shop at all times, so I tend to go for anything like that. We actually still have some of our holiday scents that we’re trying to get rid of and there’s this really great one in that line called Spiced Apple Toddy. It smells like apple pie. I love it. It’s only out during fall and winter so I stocked up. I need it all year long, honestly. I still have so many other scents at home, but like I’m probably never gonna get sick of it, for real, it smells so good. Or I might go every other month swapping between that and Black Cherry Merlot because that’s awesome too. And then there’s Champagne Toast, I mean, that one might be a bit too feminine for you, but I love it. It’s sweet and just a tiny bit citrusy. I can’t do any of the floral or like, outdoorsy scents, they set my allergies off. And honestly there’s some of these that I smell them and I’m like, who is putting this in their house? Like, what nutjob thinks this scent is good? How many people have senses of smell that are this screwed up?” At this point I was rambling, talking excitedly and with my hands, handing him testers to smell and trying to gauge his reactions to know what to hand him next. He didn’t have any bad reactions to anything I gave him until I handed him the tester for Fresh Balsam. His nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and he very carefully set the tester down on the counter as far from him as he could manage. He handled my word-vomit good-naturedly, with a small smile on his face, nodding and chuckling when he thought something I had said was funny. Our fingers brushed a few times as I handed him the testers and after the third time, I began to feel like it was deliberate on his part, but it couldn’t have been, could it? He couldn’t really be interested in me. He’s Henry Cavill. I’m just, well, I’m just me.

Me, with my two minimum wage jobs, still living with my parents, inching ever closer to 30 years old. Why would he want any of that? Why would he be interested in me physically either? I mean, he’s literally flawless and I’m short, overweight, I eat like shit, I don’t exercise, hell, I barely know how to put on make-up correctly. Yeah, I look good today, but that’s not par-for-the-course.    

He put a few each of Cinnamon & Clove Buds, Black Cherry Merlot, Limoncello (for the bathrooms, he said), and Laundry Day (for the laundry room, obviously) in his basket along with enough of the plugs so he’d have one in each room. He also grabbed a Black Cherry Merlot and a Limoncello room spray off the shelf next to the Wallflower display before turning back to me. “So then, where do you keep this Spiced Apple Toddy that you like so much, or did you hide them so you could have them all to yourself?”

I chuckled nervously and ran my hand through my hair, sort of disbelieving that he was actually paying attention to what I had said. Boys never listen to me when I talk, I always have to repeat myself, but I guess that’s because I usually end up talking to the dumb ones. Henry’s not dumb. He really is just fucking perfect, isn’t he? Pretty and he listens? That shouldn’t be such a difficult combination to find, but for me it had been. “They’re on the table over here with the rest of our leftover Christmas stuff. Hopefully the tester is still there somewhere.” I put my hands in my apron pockets and I could feel the jolt of confidence I had had just minutes before leaving my body. His charm had worn me down, bringing me back to my normal, anxiety-ridden self. I caught the toe of my boot on the corner of one of the other tables as we walked towards the center of the room. I stumbled, but before I could fall his arm was already out to steady me, wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.

“Are you alright Y/N?” A look of genuine concern was on his face and I swear to God I swooned. Like, fuck, I just stubbed my stupid toe, it’s not that serious. I mean yeah, I stubbed my toe and then almost fell into a table covered with candles in glass holders, but like, I didn’t fall, you caught me, please stop looking at me like you care. You can’t give me that much hope. It isn’t fair. And goddamnit I love the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth. Like, fuck it’s never sounded so good. This isn’t fair, why is this happening?

“Yeah, Henry I’m fine, just a stubbed toe. Thank you for…you know.” I gestured down to his arm, which was still around my waist. The sound of me bumping into the table drew the attention of the rest of my co-workers, however, who were now coming out of their various positions to see what was going on and to make sure no one had broken anything. Samantha popped her head in from the front room and Kelynn and Mira came out from the cashwrap with Pilar and walked to the edge of the third room to peek in. All they saw was me, blushing profusely, with Henry Cavill’s beefy-ass arm still wrapped around my fucking waist. “Everything’s fine guys. I promise.”

“Holy shit, is that…”

“Mira!”

“But Kelynn that’s fucking Superman!”

“You can’t cuss in front of him Mira, he’s a customer!”

“Will you guys cut it out? You’re embarrassing us in front of the hunky British dude!”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we all pretend like this isn’t happening right now? Pilar can go back to the cashwrap, you two can go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go back to what I was doing, namely making a damn sale!” I extricated myself from Henry’s grasp so I could shoo them back towards the cashwrap. They turned and walked away, bewildered looks on their faces. I turned back to Henry who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls, leaving them messier than they were before. An errant one fell over his forehead and I wanted to brush it out of the way, but he just left it.

I walked over to the table that I was originally heading for and found the Spiced Apple Toddy Wallflowers. There wasn’t that many left, but there was still a tester. I grabbed it and spun around to bring it to him, assuming he hadn’t followed me, but as I turned, I found myself going face first into his massive chest. I put my unoccupied hand up to steady myself and pushed on his chest to force him back. He was just too close. Why was he so close? He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it. “Here. This is what I have in my bedroom right now, this is Spiced Apple Toddy.” Oh god, why did I say it like that? The one I have in my bedroom. Jesus Christ. He quirked his eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side, smirking a little. Instead of taking the tester from me, he took my much smaller hand in his, guiding it up towards his face so the tester was close to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A serene smile spread across his face and I felt my face get hotter. He opened his eyes, looking down into mine. Fuck I could drown in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, I like that very much. You were right. I think that one’s my favourite.”

[sundimus]

Doki Doki Literature Club Secret Santa gift for the @ddlcgiftexchange for @maxcaulfield! Can also be read on my ao3. /// - - - ///

Monika missed Sayori. It’s not like she’s clingy or anything, and it’s not like Sayori is dead - god forbid. But she hasn’t shown up to school at all today, and being surrounded by people whose names and personalities belong to a wind Monika has no right to drift along with makes Sayori’s absence seem much more prominent. She wonders if her girlfriend - wow, that’s still so weird to say - is sick. It’s the middle of Winter and there’s been snow every day for the past few weeks. She’s surprised that she herself hasn’t gotten even a hint of a cold yet, considering how prone she is to seasonal changes. Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth, she thinks. She makes a plan to visit Sayori after school today. If she is sick then it can’t hurt to visit and keep her company while she recovers. Maybe she’ll have enough time to stop by the small cafe that’s a few blocks down the main road and pick up a small drink to bring over to Sayori’s place for her. A salted vanilla cream iced coffee topped with whipped cream and sprinkles, if they have any. Sayori’s favorite. It’s not her business to question her love’s taste in drinks, although she can’t help herself and questions it anyway. As long as she’s happy then that’s what matters in the end. Two fingers snap in front of her face and she looks up to see a slightly disgruntled Natsuki in front of her face and a curiously worried Yuri in behind her. “Earth to Monika,” Natsuki says as she leans back. “Yuri called your name like seven times.” “Actually it was five,” Yuri corrects. “If it wasn’t for the intense stare you were giving your desk I would’ve thought that I was being purposefully ignored, if I had to be honest. Are you feeling alright?” Monika feels a bit flustered at being caught in her thoughts. She didn’t realize how unaware she became of her surroundings. “Yes! Yes, sorry, I’m fine. I was just thinking -” about Sayori. “I was just thinking.” A beat passes, and the looks on both of the other girls’ faces tell her all she needs to know about how obvious her thoughts were to them. “Thinking... about Sayori?” Natsuki finishes for her, her question coming out more as a statement. Of course it’s obvious. She’s always thinking about Sayori. “Am I that predictable?” Natsuki bluntly replies “yeah” at the same time Yuri apologetically says “kind of.” Yuri puts a thread of her hair behind her ear and steps closer to sit in the desk next to Monika’s. “It’s just that... since you two have started dating two months ago you’ve been really... close?” she offers. Natsuki nods. “You guys have been filthily in love.” “Natsuki!” “What? I meant it in a good way.” Yuri sighed. “Of course.” She shifts her attention back to Monika. “Despite Natsuki’s unique description, she’s correct. You and Sayori had been almost inseparable since you’ve gotten together.” “Not like it’s a bad thing,” Natsuki assures. “As much as I complain about you two making constant kissy-eyes at each other, I gotta admit that it’s pretty sweet.” Yuri nods in agreement, and while Monika’s stomach gets riled up with thousands of embarrassment butterflies, her friends’ encouraging words fill her with giddiness. She reaches up and playfully pokes Natsuki’s right cheek, right where her single dimple lay. She’s both surprised and not at all shocked at the softness of it. “Funny how you two call us cute when you guys are downright adorable.” Both Yuri and Natsuki blush, the latter jerking her head back from her finger. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles. She points her own finger back at Monika. “Don’t try to change the subject! Sayori isn’t here and now you’re feeling all gloomy and stuff.” “Is she feeling unwell?” Yuri asks. “It’s quite unusual for her to miss a school day, but then again it’s also very cold and muggy outside now, and the weather has been getting worse these past few days.” “She might be feeling sick,” Natsuki says. “If she is sick then tell her to stay home and get better. I don’t want to get sick too.” “I’ll be sure to inform her of your concern, ‘Suki,” Monika promises. “I’m going to see her after school today to make sure she’s fine anyway.” “Good plan, but my warning extends to you too. Don’t come to school if you get sick.” “I won’t, I won’t.” “Make sure Sayori stays hydrated and washes her hands often,” Yuri also speaks up. Monika feels like she’s being talked to by two parents. “And make sure she’s eating properly, maybe something light and not too heavy, and -” Yuri pauses, trailing off for a second. “... Are we sharing poems today?” Monika thinks, resting her face in the palm of her hand. “Hmm... I think Sayori would want to read our poems with us. We could read it today and show her when she comes back, but I think she’d want to be here with us when we read it for the first time, so I’d hold off on it for now. If that’s alright with you two, of course.” Natsuki shrugs. “Fine by me. Honestly, it’ll give me time to look it over and see if I wanna change anything about it.” “Yes,” Yuri agrees. “I worked hard on my poem. I would prefer if all of us had the chance to read it together.” The school bell rang overhead, signaling the end of the school day. Monika got up, stretching her arms above her head. “Then we are in agreement. We’ll wait to share our poems until Sayori can join us. I’ll see you two tomorrow!” She slings her book bag over her shoulder and begins walking toward the classroom door. As she pushes the door open Natsuki’s voice rings through the classroom. “Can’t wait to read the love poem you wrote about Sayori, Moni!” Monika leaves, blushing hard, wandering what she did to deserve friends like this. So what if her poem may or may not have been about Sayori? She didn’t use her name. It could’ve been about anything. It could have been about a deer, or a pond, or the sun. Ah, well. As long as Sayori likes it then it doesn’t matter. /// - - - /// Monika walks down Sayori’s street, the cafe she wanted to stop by having been closed earlier due to bad weather. She bundles her scarf tighter as the snow crunches beneath her feet with puffs of frozen air escaping from her nose. Her face felt numb and cold by the time she moved her scarf to cover half of it, but she’s glad she thought ahead enough to take her mittens with her. Her ears already feel like they’re about to fall off, she doesn’t need her fingers to feel the same way. She walks faster when she spots the clear distinction of Sayori’s house in her vision. She opens the gate and walks through it, careful as she goes up the porch stairs to the front door. She knocks once, twice for good measure, and waits. ... There’s no answer. She knocks a third time, waiting a bit longer, but the result is the same. No answer. She looks to her right at the small potted, and now dead, succulent on the railing next to the door. She lifts it up to find the spare key to the house underneath it and picks it up to unlock the door. “Sayori!” Monika yells out in the house to make her presence known and not scare her. She slips her shoes off on the shoe rack next to the door, and shrugs off her Winter attire - putting her mittens in her coat and putting both her coat and scarf on the coat rack. “It’s Monika! Are you awake?” She hears a thud from somewhere upstairs with Sayori herself appearing at the the top of the stairs a moment later. She’s still in her pajamas and it doesn’t look like she brushed her hair yet today, but the smile she gives when she lays her eyes on Monika completely outshines any of her disheveled appearance. “Moni!” Sayori shouts, her voice crackling a bit. Monika guesses it’s because she either just woke up or because she hasn’t used it in a while. She rushes down the stairs to give Monika a hug, which was gladly reciprocated. “I didn’t know you were coming over today! I would have... cleaned up a little... heh.” The house is spotless. “Did I wake you up?” she asks, patting her back. “Nah, I’ve been awake since this morning. I was just laying in bed all day...” Sayori trails off, her embarrassment opening a deep form of understanding between the two of them that they both know too well. Today must have been one of her low days then. They don’t talk about her depression too often, and while some days are still off for the both of them, their recoveries - especially Sayori’s - have made remarkable progress. Monika leans back to look at her, having to look slightly down, and wraps her arms around her neck. “I just wanted to check up on you since you weren’t at school today.” “Thank you.” Sayori rests her palms on the small of Monika’s back. Her large green eyes started making her slightly flustered so she focuses her sight on a beauty mark close to one of the eyes, high up on her cheek. “I wanted to,” Monika repeats. She gently pushes back one of Sayori’s arms so she can hold her hand. “Besides, if I didn’t come here then Natsuki and Yuri would have forced me to. They think you have a cold or something.” Sayori looks down at their intertwined fingers fondly. “Nope! I’m perfectly healthy, except for the occasional sneeze. But other than that I’m okay.” She squeezes Monika’s hand and notices how her nose is still slightly red from the chill outside. “It’s chilly outside, isn’t it? Do you want some cocoa?” “Sure.” Monika’s relieved that Sayori isn’t actually ill - though the idea of taking care of her sick girlfriend isn’t awful. She knows a good mushroom soup recipe. Maybe she can be her taste tester one day. Sayori leads her through the house to kitchen located in the far back of it. Although the outside of the house is cloudy and gray, the kitchen window is shining enough light to considerably brighten the room. Sayori takes out a small, decently sized pot along with cocoa powder, sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla extract, and a bag of peppermint candies out of a neighboring cabinet while Monika grabs the milk out of the fridge. “Going all out, huh?” Monika teases. She knows that the vanilla flavoring is for Sayori while the peppermint candies are for her. She’s touched knowing that she keeps a bag of her favorite candy at home - especially since she herself doesn’t particularly enjoy the taste of it. Sayori smiles at her after pouring some milk in the pot. “It’s Winter! We gotta celebrate it with the most Winter-y drink known to mankind. Plus going “all out” means it’s just gonna be more delicious to drink.” Monika slides up behind her and wraps her arms around her stomach as she whisks in the cocoa powder and sugar, playfully moving both of them side to side slightly as she does so. “You’re right. Hot chocolate shouldn’t be served any other way.” Sayori moves with her, happily whisking away. She thinks that she should put a radio in here sometime so that they could dance together to some music. “Could you reach over and put some chocolate chips in here for me?” She does just that, moving over to open the bag and pouring some of the contents of it into the warm pot. After seeing them start to melt, she goes to grab the whipped cream out of the fridge. “Okay! It’s done!” Sayori announces. She helpfully pours the chocolate into two cups for them, adding the vanilla extract to her own while Monika takes a spoon and scoops some whipped topping onto both cups, putting the spoon in the sink and the cream back in the fridge afterwards. “Thanks,” Sayori says gratefully. She takes a couple of peppermint candies out of the bag and puts them on the table. “Now for the fun part!” “The best part,” Monika agrees. Both of the girls raise their hands up and immediately slam them down on the candies, crushing them into pieces. Monika picks up the remains and sprinkles them on her cup, completing her drink. With everything finished and the kitchen clean of their messes, they both start heading up towards Sayori’s room, carefully holding their drinks as to not spill it on the carpeted stairs. “I can’t wait to drink this,” Sayori says, pushing open her bedroom door with her hips. “It smells delicious.” “Be careful, though. Remember when we burnt our tongues on it last time?” “You mean when we dared each other to drink it without blowing on it or waiting for it to cool down?” “Yeah. I couldn’t taste anything for about three days.” “Do you wanna do that again?” “No.” Sayori laughs. They both move towards one side of the bedroom where two gigantic green and purple beanbag chairs rest against a wall and sit down them. The bags have seen some use, but they’re still nice and comfortable to sit on. They both spend a quiet moment sipping their drinks, Monika playfully knocking her feet against Sayori’s in a lazy game of footsie. Sayori smiles at her and pushes her own foot back softly. “Why didn’t you come to school today?” Monika asks as politely as she could. It’s not the best conversation starter, but she’s been curious and worried the entire day. Based on what Sayori said earlier she can easily guess, but she doesn’t want to make assumptions. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Sayori’s smile dimmed, though more out of embarrassment than displeasure. Monika feels a bit bad for asking, but she rests a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her a soft and reassuring smile in return. Sayori leans into her touch, taking another sip of her drink before speaking. “I just had a bad day today.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” She remembers never being able to talk about her feelings this easily. Her bad days and her sad days - she couldn’t talk about them without feeling guilty, like she did something wrong by not being constantly cheerful or happy. She remembers the first time she tried to open up to Monika about her feelings, way back when they were “just friends” unknowingly longing to be closer, and she could barely speak past the rock in her throat and the tears stinging her eyes. Monika had been patient though, and kind, and Sayori had slowly grown confident and comfortable enough to talk with her about her depression and anxiety without feeling judged or lonely. Sayori runs her finger around the rim of her cup idly. It’s almost empty. “I woke up this morning and my limbs felt like there were anvils laying on them. My bones felt heavy and I couldn’t get up.” “Did you go back to sleep?” She nods. “Yup! When I woke up I felt a lot better.” Monika grins. “Sounds like your medication is working.” “Yeah! It’s giving me a lot more energy. A year ago I probably would’ve just stayed in bed.” Monika tilts her cup and pours the rest of her drink in her mouth, finishing it. “Progress is progress, and I’m really proud of you for sticking to it. It makes me happy to see you getting better more and more each day.” “Really?” Sayori asks softly. Her own drink is empty by now and sits on her floor abandoned. “Really.” Sayori feels bashful, the corners of her mouth turning upward with incredible shyness. She scoots over in her beanbag chair to lean against Monika’s beanbag instead so she should lay her head on her lap. Monika herself wraps her arms around Sayori comfortably, one arm laying lazily on her stomach while the other one rests around the broad of her back, effectively cuddling her. This is a nice time for a nap, Sayori thinks as the minutes tick by, blinking her eyes slowly. The steady breathing of her girlfriend soothes her to tiredness, a beat constant and safe and real. A faint and noticeable tune matching the steady rhythm of her own small breathing. She almost thinks she can hear Monika’s heartbeat even though her head is on her thighs and nowhere near her chest. “Are you comfortable?” Monika teases. Her voice is a bit softer, perhaps because she’s also being slightly lulled into sleep. “I can’t replace your bed, you know, but I don’t mind being your pillow.” Sayori hums. “Sorry, I was just enjoying how warm you are and how our breathing almost seems in sync.” Monika huffs a laugh. “Almost sounds poetic.” “I got a lot of practice. Speaking of which, how was the clubs’ poems today?” “Actually we decided not to read our poems today. Everyone wanted to wait for you to come back before sharing them.” Sayori stares at her, surprised. “What? Really?” Monika pokes her cheek playfully. “Of course. Sharing our poems wouldn’t be the same without you there. You make them feel special.” Sayori feels flattered, a warm swarm of butterflies pooling in her stomach hearing that praise. “I can understand that. I couldn’t imagine not sharing my poems with one of you guys.” “Good thing we’re saving them for tomorrow then, hm?” Sayori still looks at her, taking in her slightly heart-shaped face and freckles scattered across her face like a constellation. Monika closes her eyes again, once more falling asleep. The walk all the way to Sayori��s house from the school made her a lot more tired than she realized. Seeing Monika like this, so peaceful and soft, fills Sayori with such fondness that she makes the quick and brash decision to lean up and place a swift kiss on her lips before she fully fell asleep. Unsurprisingly, she tastes like peppermint and chocolate. How fitting for someone like her. Monika cracks one eye open at her and smiles. “Now that’s not really fair, is it? Kissing me when I’m not even looking at you.” She leans down to place her own sweet kiss on Sayori. Kissing can’t magically fix everything, but it’s a start.

[youngjusticeslut]

Remember

Fandom: Young Justice  Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters:  Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson, M’gann M’orzz, Conner Kent, Kaldur’ahm, Wyynnde, Garth, Wally West, mentions of Jade, Lian, Paula, Roy, Shalaina, Barbara, Zatanna and Raquel. Summary: In the six months after Wally's ceasing, the six members of the original team each remember him in their own way. // or, how the team copes with his death. Rating: T  Word Count:  4k Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. 

The Watchtower June 23rd, 23:16 EDT

Conner puts himself in charge of Wally’s hologram before anyone else can offer.

He knows that he’s the most logical choice. Kaldur will want to do it, but will get too caught up dealing with the team that he’ll put himself on the backburner. M’gann won’t be able to look at the memorial without crying. Artemis is too much of a wreck. And Dick… Dick is gone.

Sure, someone else could have done it. They could have left it to the League. Or Bart. Bart would have readily taken it on and roped Flash into helping. It wouldn’t have felt right, though. Wally was one of them. The original six. It’s only fair that one of them handles it.

In the three days it takes them to build the hologram, Conner handles the harder things. Memorial arrangements. Consoling the team. Picking up whatever slack he can load on his shoulders. He keeps busy.

Everyone else needs time to grieve. More than he does, at least. Grief is an emotion he can easily control. It nestles inside him, content, easily ignored when more pressing matters come to play. It’s always been this way. When people get hurt, or die, he’s always the one they can count on to keep things going. It’s instinct, by now. And truth be told, it helps him feel a little bit better.

When the hologram is finished, Conner stays behind and stares up at it. None of this is fair. Artemis shouldn’t have to go through this pain. Dick shouldn’t have to live without his best friend. Wally should have continued to live, to be their friend.

But he’s gone now, and someone has to step up. Bart may have filled Wally’s shoes as the new Kid Flash, but being a hero was only a part of his legacy. After Kaldur, Wally always made sure that everyone was taken care of. He’d hang around the Cave and make sure all the new members got acquainted. If anyone needed a place to crash, Wally’s home, and then his and Artemis’, was always a safe haven. He’d organized game nights, movie nights, team outings. With him gone, there’s nobody left to take care of everyone else.

Nobody, except him. For so long, Conner fought the idea of leadership. Everyone’s role on the team was well defined. Kaldur was the leader. Artemis was the spirit. Dick was the brains. M’gann was the power. He was the strength. And Wally was the heart. Conner was comfortable in his role, and he never sought to change it. Things are different, now. It feels like the right time to step up.

Wally was his friend. His first friend. Conner needs to do right by him, to keep his memory alive.

He crouches low, touching the base of the hologram. “You don’t have to worry,” he says, barely speaking above a whisper. “I’ll take care of them for you. I promise.” He’ll make sure that Artemis gets through this. He’ll find Dick and be there for him in any way he needs. He’ll force Kaldur to take breaks and stop overworking himself. And M’gann… he’ll find a way to forgive her and work through their past.

Life’s too short to do anything else.

Happy Harbor July 1st, 13:34 EST

The snickerdoodles don’t taste right.

Wally’s memorial is in two hours, and despite spending the better part of her morning in the kitchen, M’gann has nothing to show for it. She sighs, dumping the fourth batch of cookies into the waste bin. It wouldn’t be right to show up empty handed. Wally would never forgive her.  

Ignoring the pang in her chest, M’gann straightens up and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater, resolved to try again.

“Let’s see,” she mutters to herself, pulling up the recipe in her head. “Butter, eggs, flour…” A dash of cinnamon. A sprinkle of salt. The ingredients float towards the dirty mixer, ready for another attempt. Hopefully this time she won’t leave anything out.

The batter comes together easily enough. M’gann has made this recipe enough times that she moves automatically, measuring flour and cracking eggs without so much as a second thought. Keeping her hands busy is good. If she moves, she can’t think. Thinking will only make her cry, and she can’t cry. M’gann doesn’t have that right, especially not today.

Conner, Kaldur, Zatanna, Raquel and her are all in agreement that today, their attention will be on Artemis. Though the former archer puts up a brave front for the sake of the team and keeping things more or less normal, today will be different. Each of them will take turns looking out for her, ensuring that someone is with her at all times. It’s the very least they can do.

As M’gann folds the batter together, her mind turns to Dick. None of them have heard from him since he handed off the team to Kaldur and Barbara. Conner tried visiting his apartment. Artemis texted and called until his phone died. Kaldur persuaded Zatanna to try a locator spell, if only to ensure that their friend was alive. After a few weeks, Artemis informed them that he texted her back.

I’m fine.

Two words. Two words that scream how not-fine he is, but enough to keep them away for a little while longer.

M’gann tastes the batter and crinkles her nose. Something is still missing. She doesn’t have time to mess up another batch, she needs these to come out right. For Wally.

She stares down the batter, pressing her mouth to the side as she thinks. “I put in eggs, the flour, the cream of tartar… what am I missing?” M’gann dips the wooden spoon in the bowl, taking out a piece of soft dough to taste.

Then it hits her. She forgot the sugar.

“Hello, Megan,” M’gann laughs to herself, shaking her head as she grabs the sugar from a nearby cupboard. No wonder the dough doesn’t taste sweet.

“Not as sweet as you, Sugar.”

The bag of sugar drops from her hands and crashes on the floor, spilling everywhere. M’gann takes a shaky breath and grasps the counter until her knuckles go pale, trying to keep the tears from coming to her eyes. She can’t. No. Today’s not her day, she doesn’t get to do this.

Try as she might to regain composure, it’s too late. Every memory, good and bad, resurrect from the back of her mind and start playing without mercy. Wally’s shameless attempts at flirting. All the trays of cookies he’d scarfed down single handedly. The terrible jokes, and the funny ones too.

M’gann slides down until she hits the floor, fighting hard to keep from crying. They’d lost before. Tula. Artemis, even if it was brief. The loss of Wally hits differently. They studied for their exams together. Every recipe she tried, he’d always volunteer to be her taste tester. Good or bad, he’d eat it enthusiastically and ensured that she knew how much she enjoyed it. He was her friend.

Wally always seemed untouchable, like he could survive anything with a smile on his face. Even now, she expects him to just dash into the room and claim that it was all some horrible joke. They’d forgive him, just like they always had before.

Her phone beeps. M’gann sniffles and wipes her eyes before picking it out of her pocket. There’s a text from Kaldur, letting her know that he’ll pick her up in an hour. She sets the phone down and lets out a shaky breath. Maybe five minutes on the floor won’t hurt. She’ll allow herself five minutes, and then she’ll pick herself back up, put on a brave face, and finish baking the cookies.

And she does just that.

Palo Alto August 13th, 15:29 PST

“For the last time, Mom, I don’t need help.” Artemis holds her phone to her ear with her shoulder and tapes up another box. “By the time you’d get here, I’ll be done.”

When the box is taped shut, Artemis pushes it towards the door. This is the last room she has to pack up. One more room, and she’s free. She sets up another empty box and begins to pack up what remains of her closet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home? I made up your bed for you.”

Artemis nods, clearing her throat just enough so that she can answer. “I’m sure.” She can’t go home. Paula would see through her in an instant. “What, you don’t trust Jade?” she tries to joke, but the tone comes off wrong. Halfhearted.

Retreating to her sister’s new home is barely a step up from retreating to her mother’s. At least there, her friends won’t drop by unannounced. She’ll have something to do. A toddler to distract her from the heaviness that weighs her down. When Jade suggested it, she couldn’t say yes fast enough. At this point, change is welcomed. Anything to get her out of this house.

“I have to finish packing, Mom. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Before Paula can add anything else, Artemis hangs up the phone. She knows what would have come next. Pity. Concern for her wellbeing. While she appreciates the concern and she knows everyone is only trying to look out for her, she doesn’t want to hear it anymore. What she wants is to move on.

Artemis is better than she was two months ago. Wally appeared everywhere to her. She saw him in their kitchen. She heard him, singing in the shower. Brucely would whine by the door for hours, waiting for him. Finally, she gave up and camped out at Zatanna’s, if only to keep from completely shutting down.

A month ago, she officially rejoined the team. Artemis couldn’t sit still and feel sorry for herself anymore. She had to do something. Punch something. Make someone feel even an ounce of the pain that she felt every day that Wally wasn’t with her.

The rage subsided. So did the pain. Artemis knows how to tuck it away for a few hours, bury it deep under team duties, coffee dates with M’gann and Zatanna, and babysitting her niece. She grows numb. Hollow. Anything is better than feeling that pain again.  

Artemis makes quick work of her closet and tapes up the remainder of her possessions in the last box. She’s glad that she only has to worry about her things. Wally’s family had helped clear out most of his belongings shortly after the memorial.

She hoists up the box and carries it out to the living room, where a stack of boxes already sits by the door. Half of them will be going to storage. She doesn’t want to impose on her sister and brother-in-law. Not after they volunteered to house her and her dog.

Speaking of her dog, Artemis notices that it’s awfully quiet. She’s used to quiet by now, but with Brucely, it isn’t always a good thing. A small smile ghosts her lips. One time, upon leaving him alone for less than ten minutes, her and Wally had found the dog neck-deep in a massive bag of cereal. They’d stayed up all night, watching their dog upchuck Lucky Charms and vowing to keep a better handle on where they kept their food.

Even though it’s a happy memory, it leaves a bitter taste in Artemis’ mouth. Wally would want her to be happy. He’d want her to remember the good times, and use them to find her strength and move on. Maybe one day, she will. One day, when she isn’t angry, or hurt, or numb.

“Brucely?” she calls out, whistling short-after. No response. That’s never a good sign. “Come on, Boy. We can go on one last walk before we have to go.” Still nothing. He must be up to something, Brucely always comes out running when she so much as mentions the word ‘walk’.

Artemis checks the bathroom. Not there. The kitchen is empty. So is her bedroom. She keeps calling his name, but Brucely remains hidden. Finally, after a solid ten minutes of looking, she finds him inside a closet, lying down pitifully.

“There you are,” she sighs in relief, bending down to pet him. “What’s the matter, don’t you want to go live with Jade?”

The dog stares up at her, reflecting her own feelings in his sad brown eyes. Artemis laughs and sits next to him. “Yeah, me neither. But you’ll like it there. Lian will love you. Roy will probably give you extra treats. And Jade…” she bites her lip. “Jade will get over it.”

Brucely huffs, making himself more comfortable on the floor. Artemis notices that he’s guarding something behind him. “What’cha got there, buddy?” she asks, peering closer to look. Behind Brucely is a box. Seems like she missed something.

Artemis carefully moves her dog and takes the small box into her palms. It’s not one of her boxes. Judging by the torn edges and the crumpled, smush state of it, the box is one of Wally’s. Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

Wally and her talked about marriage. They both knew it was an inevitability, but had decided to wait until after college. Wally wanted a huge party, with everyone on the Team and the League invited. Loud music. A massive cake. The whole five yard. Artemis was never really the type of girl to plan out her wedding, so she went along with his ideas, if only because she liked seeing how excited he got about everything.

Now she wishes they hadn’t waited. She wishes that they’d run away, eloped, made the most of their short amount of time together before it was too late. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he’d still be alive and here with her.

He isn’t though. And now Artemis sits on the floor, holding a ring that was supposed to be hers. All the stitches keeping her together tear apart at the sight of this one little ring.

Brucely whines and sidles up to her before placing his head in her lap. His drool ruins her pants, but she doesn’t care. Artemis leans forward and hugs him, doing her best not to cry, fighting hard to keep away the thoughts of what might have been.

Poseidonis October 30th, 8:19 UTC-2

Of all the strange holidays Kaldur has experienced on the surface world, none confuses him more than Halloween. He isn’t too much a fan of sweets. And the custom of knocking on strangers’ doors, begging for candy baffles him to no end. His team members tried to explain it to him on several occasions, but clearly the holiday is beyond his understanding.

He prefers to spend the holiday back home, visiting his parents, his old friends. Kaldur always found it a better use of his time than partaking in the festivities; he only had so many opportunities to return home, and this was one he always allowed himself to have.

This year, however, is different. Artemis texted him and asked him to join her and Will for his daughter’s first Halloween. At least, the first one they were both there for. He’d tried to decline, but her and Will both sent him a mass of text messages full of pictures from the pouting toddler, and really, what choice did he have? Kaldur has a difficult time denying Artemis much of anything, these days.

As a result, Kaldur plans his trip home a day earlier. For a brief moment, he considers skipping it entirely. Then he remembers his parents, and decides he’s hurt them enough for one lifetime. So, like the good son he is, he returns home and lets his mother shower him with affection. Cal asks him a plethora of questions about how things have changed on the surface world, and Kaldur dutifully answers every single one. When it comes time to leave, he tries his best not to think too hard about how tight his mother hugs him.

Upon leaving his parents, he ponders visiting Queen Mera, and her son. It has been ages since he’s seen little Artur. Kaldur still remembers holding the baby, only a few days after his birth. Artur must be so much bigger now, and the thought puts a smile on his face.

Just as he’s about to head in that direction, Kaldur stops himself. He probably won’t be welcome there. King Orin and him are on good terms, but that doesn't mean he has forgiven him enough to let him near his family. “No,” he muses to himself, “perhaps not today.”

So instead, he swims in the direction of the Zeta tube, keeping his gaze straight ahead. If he just focuses on reaching his destination, he won’t see the Atlanteans who stare at him, and whisper. He won’t hear the vicious words they mutter under his breath, calling him a traitor, the bastard of Black Manta, and worse. Kaldur doesn’t mind it too much. It’s all deserved. The people have every right to feel this way. He was surprised so many had forgiven him as quickly as they had.

“Kaldur, is that you?”

He stops swimming and turns around. It’s Garth. Next to him is a man he remembers seeing, but doesn’t recognize immediately. “Old friend,” he greets, holding out his hand. Garth hesitates, just for a moment, and then grabs his wrist in the usual greeting. Kaldur does his best not to let it get to him.

“I didn’t expect to see you. Are you heading back?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“That’s too bad,” Garth says, letting go of Kaldur’s wrist. “It would have been nice if you could join us.”

“Us?”

“My apologies, I haven’t introduced my friend. Kaldur, this is Wyynde. He was in our class, back at the Conservatory.”

Kaldur turns his attention to Wyynde. Ah, now he recognizes him. Wyynde, the purist. “You were with Oceanmaster,” he blurts before he realizes. No sooner does he say it does his face flush with embarrassment. “I… what I meant was—”

Wyynde gives Kaldur a wry smile. “And you were with Black Manta. But hopefully, those collaborations will remain in the past. Now I am on King Orin’s guard.”  

“I see.” Kaldur clears his throat, attempting and failing to hide his embarrassment. “I apologize if I was rude.”

Wyynde waves away Kaldur’s concerns with a lighthearted chuckle. “Not at all. I appreciate the candor.”

Kaldur’s face is still warm, but he knows well enough that it isn’t from embarrassment. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since… “Well, I must take my leave. I have urgent matters to attend to back on the surface world.”

Helping his friends wrestle a stubborn toddler into a polyester costume and tote her around to collect candy she won't eat. An urgent matter indeed.

Garth rests a hand on Kaldur’s shoulder. “Are you positive you cannot find time to accompany us? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“I do not wish to intrude,” Kaldur makes up quickly. “You and Wyynde must be quite busy.”

“Nonsense! I have heard so many stories about the famed Aqualad. I would be honored if you accompanied us.”

It’s on the tip of Kaldur’s tongue to say no. He should say no. There’s nothing he can gain from getting close to either of them.

“Dude, you can’t be hung up on Tula forever. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Uh, and by that I mean Atlanteans. Not like, actual fish. Please don’t fall in love with an actual fish.”

The memory is so deep, Kaldur almost can’t believe he recalls it. It’s been a little while since he’s thought about his fallen friend. There was so much to do back then, he packed his feelings about the matter and set them aside, to be handled at a later time.

Still, as much as it hurts him to remember, there must be a reason he hears Wally’s voice inside his head. Wally had always been unsympathetic towards his misfortune with Tula. On countless occasions, he’d tried setting him up on a number of unsuccessful blind dates. None of his tactics had worked, but Kaldur appreciated the attempt.

If Wally were here, he’d tell him to go. There can be no other reason why the memory had surfaced. Staying behind, even for a few more hours, would be the very least he could do for him.

“Well…” Kaldur smiles, then nods. “I suppose just a little while will not hurt.”

Watchtower November 11th, 00:01 EDT

Dick sits in front of Wally’s hologram, cross legged. He’d never missed his friend’s birthday before. Grief be damned, he isn't keen on starting now. His heart is heavy. None of his friends even know that he’s here. He hasn't talked to anyone, really talked to anyone, in months.  

After Wally ceased, he needed time. Running the team, the team he, Wally and Kaldur had started, didn't feel right. So he left. He came back for the memorial, and to officially hand the team back to Kaldur, but after that, he officially disappeared. He’s done with teams. At least, for the time being.

He never pictured living his life without Wally by his side. Through thick and thin, they’d been there for each other. They’d fought together, and laughed together. It doesn’t feel right to go on living without him.

But life moves on. Dick distracts himself from his feelings by diving headfirst into detective work, letting the late nights and constant travel take away from the unresolved pain. He watches his friends move on with their lives. Kaldur accepts the role of Aquaman, and M’gann is appointed as team leader. Conner still helps with the team, and Artemis enrolls in a Masters program and spends her free time babysitting her niece. Everyone moves on, together.

All except him.

To give them credit, everyone tried to look out for him. Texts. Calls. Surprise visits when they knew he was home. Barbara comes over more often than she needs to, and even though he isn’t always mentally present, he’s grateful. Still, he keeps everyone at a distance. He just prefers to process things on his own. It’s nothing personal.

Wally’s hologram judges him from above. Dick lets out a shaky breath, looking up at his former friend. “I know,” he sighs. “I’m an asshole.”

From his backpack, Dick pulls out an assortment of chips, every ridiculous flavor he could get his hands on. Wally liked trying the different flavors. Somewhere on his computer, he kept a masterlist of every one he’s tried, and their rankings. “You won’t believe which flavors I found this time. Fried chicken flavored potato chips. Can you believe it? They don’t taste bad, but they’d definitely score low on your yum-o-meter,” he tries to tease. His voice comes off thick.

Dick sets the chips down, his hands shaking. “I miss you, Wall. I know I haven’t really shown it. I know I’ve been an awful friend, an awful person… but what did you expect? You and me, we were supposed to go down together.” He balls his fists, looking down.

The hologram doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. Just stares ahead, with that same, dorky smile.

After a few minutes, Dick stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. This isn't helping. He did his diligence, he visited, he kept the tradition. But right now, it hurts too much to be here.

“Happy Birthday, Wally,” he mutters, before leaving the hologram behind for good.  

[singledarkshade]

Making A Family

Summary: Long before Gideon and Rip started their Psychic Detective Agency, they were two very different children looking for a family.

Author’s Note: Part of the Psych Verse with @incendiaglacies, this is a prequel showing Rip’s backstory.. Hope you enjoy. Part One – Michael And Mary Michael Hunter was sitting in the den with a large book when the new volunteer was shown around. He glanced up briefly, just so he knew who the new woman was before returning to his book.

“And this is Michael,” Mrs Underwood said getting his attention, “Michael, I want you to say hello to Mary Xavier. She’s our new helper who started today.”

“Hi,” Michael said softly before turning back to his book.

“I’m going to be taking some of the children to bake cakes this afternoon,” Mary spoke up making him look up again, “Would you like to help?”

Michael stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, “No thank you.”

Pulling his book back up, he glanced over it again a few seconds later as he heard Mrs Underwood talking softly knowing it was about him.

Sighing he tried to read again not wanting to talk to anyone.

Mary frowned as she looked back at the little boy curled up in the corner reading. After the death of her partner, she’d needed something to help her fill the time they would normally spend together. After a chance meeting with Colleen Underwood, who ran the children’s home, she agreed to volunteer with the children. Her role was to help them with homework, read stories to the younger ones and do cooking classes some weekends. Teaching them to make both meals and cakes which she hoped they would enjoy. She enjoyed spending time with children but didn’t feel she could commit to taking any of them. Not at that moment. She thought she might in the future when she was ready to share her home once more.

“What a polite little boy,” Mary said, “Is he shy?”

“Michael just had to return from his last placement a few days ago,” Colleen explained, “The mother found out she was pregnant and with two kids of their own already they felt they couldn’t keep Michael.”

“Oh, the poor boy,” Mary sighed.

Colleen nodded, “Anyone who knows that boy knows he would be amazing helping with a baby, he’s a protector, but it is the family’s choice.”

“I suppose it is,” Mary grimaced, “It just isn’t easy to see that little boy look so sad.”

The other woman shrugged, “Unfortunately, it’s something that I see a lot and Michael has had a few placements not work out for one reason or another. It’s not really his fault but he blames himself.”

“How long has he been at the home?” Mary asked, not sure if she should ask.

Colleen sighed, “He was found about three years ago wandering the streets. We think he’d been living on them for almost a year.”

Mary stared at her in shock, “At five years old.”

“The little he told us,” Colleen grimaced, “It appears his father left him and luckily some older kids looked after him.”

Glancing back once more to where the little boy sat, Mary hoped Michael would open up at some point.

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

 Michael grimaced when he walked into the kitchen for a cup of water and found Miss Xavier in there cleaning up after her cooking lessons. Ignoring her, he went to the cupboard that held the cups they were allowed to use and filled it half-way.

“Oh, it’s good you’re here,” Miss Xavier smiled, “I need a taste tester.”

Michael froze and suddenly found a chocolate cookie in his hand.

“Tell me what you think,” she said, “It’s a new recipe I’m trying out.”

Slowly he took a bite, a smile touching his lips unbidden at the rich chocolatey taste.

“From that look,” Miss Xavier laughed, “I take it my new recipe is a success.”

He nodded and she chuckled, taking a seat and grabbing a cookie for herself. They ate in silence and when he’d finished, Michael drank his water.

He paused then whispered, “Thank you,” before leaving the room.

 The next week Michael sat in the library hearing some of the others heading down to the kitchen for cooking with Miss Xavier. He thought back to the cookie she’d given him to try and part of him thought it would be nice to try the baking lessons but then he risked liking her. Liking people was a bad thing because they always left him, and he ended up on his own.

“Michael,” Miss Xavier’s voice startled him, “Can you come and help carry some things from my car? I’m running a little late today and could use some extra help.”

Knowing Mrs Underwood would scold him if he didn’t, Michael put the bookmark in his book and placed it down before following her to the carpark where several of the kids were all waiting to grab a bag.

Michael wondered why she needed so much, as he watched her pass bags to each kid (the younger ones getting the lighter things). Taking the final bag, he walked into the kitchen and placed it on the table.

“We’re making cakes for tomorrow’s open day,” Miss Xavier told him, “Would you like to help?”

“No, thank you,” Michael shook his head before he quickly left the room not wanting anyone to try to make him to stay.

He hated the open days when prospective parents would come and look at them like they were zoo animals. They would take them home and, in his experience, would always send them back. Finding his spot in the library again, Michael buried himself in his book.

 The open day meant the place was noisy and Michael did his best not to listen as it made him remember all the times he was sent back. He looked up surprised when Miss Xavier placed a plate and cup on the table before she took a seat on the beanbag beside him.

“I guess these days aren’t something you enjoy?” she said softly.

He shrugged, glancing at the piece of chocolate cake sitting on the table beside him.

“That’s for you,” Miss Xavier assured him, “I didn’t want you to miss out.”

Michael gave her a small smile, “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a while before Miss Xavier asked, “What are you reading?”

Michael passed it across.

“James and The Giant Peach,” she smiled, “I like that one.”

Shrugging Michael said, “It’s a little easy but I like the story.”

“Well reading can be about what we enjoy,” Miss Xavier told him, “Personally, I like to look at cookery books for fun.”

“That sounds…” he paused before finishing, “Okay.”

Miss Xavier chuckled, “I like to cook and make new recipes so I look at ones already there to see if I can put my own spin on them.”

“Is that why you cook here?” Michael asked, “To try out new recipes?”

She nodded, “I love to cook and I’ve no one at home to cook for.”

“Where are your family?” Michael whispered.

She sighed sadly, “We were in a car accident several months ago, I was the only one who walked away.”

Michael slowly took her hand, “I’m sorry.”

Giving him a warm smile, Miss Xavier squeezed his hand, “I should get back downstairs and make sure everyone has cake.”

As she managed to get herself out of the beanbag chair, Michael found himself saying, “Do you want help?”

Smiling at him, Miss Xavier nodded, “I would be very grateful for your help, Michael.”

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

 Over the next few months, Mary found she spent a lot of time with Michael. He began to help with the cooking lessons and, although he was quiet, she found he was also extremely smart. At nine, he was reading well beyond his years and had a keen interest in computing and electronics. Mary began to find him books that she knew would interest him and every so often managed to get a smile from the boy.

She understood why he was sometimes sullen, especially when there were prospective parents in the home, he’d been ‘sent back’ a few times and didn’t want to ever be in that position again.

On those days Mary would normally find him something to do and as time passed began to wonder if she should take him in. She’d often thought about being a mother, they had planned to have a child before the accident and Mary found herself wondering if she could do it alone. Could she take responsibility for the little boy? She knew how often he had been rejected by prospective parents and knew that if she took him in then Mary had to be sure that it would work. But every time she saw him, she felt herself smile and loved seeing him light up with every new book she brought.

 Michael sat in the library reading his book, keeping out of the way as there were some people looking for a child to join their family floating around. The door opened and Michael pulled the book up so whoever was there didn’t try to talk to him, surprised when a plate with a cookie was placed beside him.

Looking up he saw Mary and felt himself smile a little. He liked her, she always made him feel good and she never made him eat anything he didn’t like, unlike some of the other adults he’d known. She even gave him permission to use her first name which few adults ever had.

“Thank you,” he said softly as he picked up the cookie.

Mary smiled, “You’re welcome, Michael.”

He was surprised when she sat beside him, and put his book down realising she was going to talk to him.

“Do you want to come and join everyone in the dayroom?” she asked him, “There’s lots of cake to be eaten.”

Shrugging he told her, “All the people looking for kids are down there. Other children need a family more than I do. I’m fine here on my own.”

Mary gave him a strange look before she said, “Well, I was thinking that perhaps you’d like to become my family.”

“What?”

She shrugged, “I lost my family too and I miss them. I thought we could be that for one another.”

Michael stared at her for a few minutes before asking, “Why me? Doesn’t one of the other kids need you?”

Mary smiled at him, “You are such a wonderful little boy, Michael always thinking of others. That’s why I want you to be part of my family because you are you. Would you like to live with me?”

Michael tried to force down his hope because he really liked Mary. She was so nice, and he always felt safe when he was with her.

“I’d like to,” he whispered.

Mary reached out and took his hand, “Then I will arrange everything.”

Michael looked down at their hands before looking up at her, “Can you go now?”

Squeezing his hand, Mary grinned at him, “Of course.”

 Michael did his best not to get his hopes up as he sat in the library holding onto his book, not reading a word as he waited for Mary to let him know if she was going to give him a home. He didn’t remember having a real one, the foster homes he’d been in before had never been bad, but he always knew they weren’t permanent. This however felt as though it could be and Michael was desperately trying not to get his hopes up.

The door opened and he looked up to see Mary standing there smiling at him. He stood slowly and walked to her.

“Why don’t you go pack your things,” she said to him, “And we’ll head home.”

“Home?” Michael whispered.

Mary took his face in her hands, “Our home.”

Impulsively Michael wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly. Mary held him close for a few moments, letting him go the moment he pulled back. Running back to his room, Michael pulled the few things that belonged to him into the bag he’d kept at the bottom of his drawer. He didn’t even check if he’d missed anything, because he didn’t care, and scampered downstairs where Mary was waiting for him with Mrs Underwood.

“Well, Michael,” Mrs Underwood smiled at him, “I want you to be good for Mary and help her like the amazing boy I know you are.”

Michael nodded.

Mary took his bag before offering her hand, “Are you ready?”

Nervously Michael took his hand and allowed her to walk him out to her car. Sliding into the backseat, Michael stared at the home watching it become smaller and smaller before it disappeared.

 Mary drove up to a white house with a small garden and stopped the car. Michael followed her inside and into the room he didn’t have to share with anyone.

“I know it’s plain,” Mary said as she placed his bag onto the bed in the corner, “But I didn’t want to try to decorate it without your help.”

“Decorate it?” Michael asked.

Mary nodded and took a seat on the bed, patting the spot on her side. Michael sat as she asked and waited.

“This is your room, Michael,” she told him, “I want you to be comfortable here, so we’ll decorate it whatever way you want. And,” Mary continued before he could say anything, “I know how much you love to read so we will have to get you some bookshelves to fill.”

Michael looked at her surprised, “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” Mary wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick hug, “Because this is your home from now on. But first thing first, let’s have lunch then you can decide what colour you want the walls to be.”

She gave him another quick squeeze before leaving the room to make them lunch, Michael remained on the bed for a few minutes a smile appearing on his face as he realised that this might work out this time.

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

 Mary sat on the couch waiting for Michael to return home from school. She was relieved that he was getting dropped off by his friend Henry’s mother today. It was almost a full year since Michael had come to live with her, and it had been good. It took Michael some time to settle in, but he seemed to have become used to her and this house. Mary worried how he’d take the news she had.

Holding the envelope in her hands, Mary looked up when she heard the front door. Michael was a quiet child, he didn’t thunder in and stampede around the room.

“Hi, Mary,” he appeared in the living room after putting his bag, jacket and shoes away, “I got an A in my maths test.”

Mary smiled slightly, “That’s wonderful news.”

“You look worried,” Michael noted with a frown, “Is something wrong?”

Mary patted the cushion at her side and took a breath, “Do you remember me telling you that I had a job interview last week?”

Michael nodded.

“Well,” she smiled, “They offered me an amazing job and I really want to take it but…”

When she hesitated Michael asked, “But?”

“It’s in America,” Mary explained, “In a place called Central City.”

“Oh,” Michael whispered before he stood, “I’ll go pack my things.”

Mary caught his arm stopping him from leaving, “Michael, wait. Where are you going?”

“You have a new job,” he reminded her, “And you’re moving to another country. This means I have to go back to the home.”

“Oh, no,” Mary whispered, “You didn’t let me finish. I’m not going anywhere without you. You’re my family, Michael. Which is why I’m giving you these today and not on your birthday like I planned. Then we decide together if we’re going to go.”

Confused Michael took the envelope and slowly opened it, pulling out the papers he stared at her in surprise.

“You want to keep me?” he whispered, as he gripped the adoption papers tightly.

Mary smiled, “I am never letting you go, Michael. If you want me to be your mother?”

Michael suddenly threw his arms around her holding on tightly, Mary held him close feeling his tears soak her shoulder.

“So,” Mary said softly when Michael finally let her go, “What do you think about me taking this job?”

“I don’t care where we live,” he whispered, “As long as I get to stay with you.”

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

 The first thing Michael thought about Central City was how bright and sunny it was. To his amazement, their new house was close to the beach which was something that intrigued Michael having never seen a beach outside of picture. The only holiday he’d had with Mary was in the Lake District and other than that Michael had only known London.

Their new house was much bigger than their old one, Michael’s new room was about three times the size of the old one, with a small balcony instead of a window. Mary assured him that she wanted him to have this room, but he always had to be careful on the balcony. He promised he would be and was looking forward to sitting in the sun reading a book.

“Michael,” Mary called to him, “Lunch is ready.”

Running downstairs Michael found Mary had made sandwiches from the supplies they’d picked up in the grocery store in the airport.

“Eat up,” Mary told him, “We’ve still got to unpack your boxes and get your room in order.”

Michael nodded and started to eat. He felt Mary watching him and looked up questioningly.

“What do you think of our new home?” Mary asked.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, “But,” he continued feeling he should say something good, “My room is nice.”

Smiling at him, Mary stroked his hair affectionately, “I’m glad you like it. I know this is a very different place from London, but we’ve got a few weeks before school starts so we have time to get this place just how we like it and explore Central City.”

“For the best cake places,” Michael nodded knowingly.

“Precisely,” Mary chuckled, “I need to know where will be best for us.”

 Michael had never liked school much, but he tolerated his old one. He’d even managed to make a few friends there, but his new school was completely different. The other kids all looked at him as though he was some kind of alien, he learned quickly not to answer questions as they hated that and then there were the ones who made fun of his accent.

The work was boring, but he didn’t want to ask for anything more to do because that would mark him as even more of an outsider than he already was.

Michael found a place he could sit at lunchtime and read in peace but four weeks after he started the school, his hiding place was found by some of the kids who thought it was smart to make fun of him.

He’d learned a long time to ignore bullies, the last time he hadn’t the other kids regretted it because before the home Michael learned to protect himself. Mary always assured him he was safe with her and if there were issues then he should talk to her first.

Michael didn’t want to burden her at the moment. They’d just moved to a different country while she was trying to get caught up with her new job and look after him.

But he also knew if he did what he wanted to do, then it would burden Mary more. So, he sat and listened to them.

And then suddenly a yell came from nowhere, “Shut up,” a scream came in a similar accent to his own before a blur attacked the leader.

Michael watched the tiny girl with long hair sink her teeth into his tormentor’s arm not realising just how much this moment would change his life.

[loruleheiress]

Good morning! Here’s a few to knock things out! Work is today but I’ll be home early because seven hour shift, bless bless. It’s going to be a bit long so bear with me! I’m going to reblog this on ALTTP Zel because it does go into how I play her too! Sorry about how strange that is ;v; my mind hops all over the place while trying to tie things together!

Hilda’s telepathy works differently from ALTTP Zelda’s. Whereas ALTTP Zelda has limited range and can get psychic nosebleed due to how little stamina she has and the strain magic puts on her body, Hilda is far more proficient because she doesn’t have such limitations. As shown in the game she can contact Link anywhere no matter how far away he is. She has something that’s a bit like Astral Projection but I like to call it telepathic or magic viewing where she can see where a person may be and calculate their area surroundings. Of course, this is limited where she can’t see the entire area but instead a circumference around them. The range is a factor in this but Hilda understands the lands like the back of her hand hence why she can warn Link about the area he’s found himself in. Whenever someone is near her castle, however, she can see them far better due to how close they are. She can only read minds, unable to delve in close to someone’s heart due to a little emotional intelligence she has which affects her ability. As said with ALTTP Zelda, one needs a connection of sorts in order to see someone’s heart/true thoughts and trust between both parties. She has potential to do this but for now, only reading the surface level of someone’s thoughts.

Yuga is an advisor, he’s been around the court for such a long time Hilda can’t imagine him no longer working for the royal family. It’s why she sees him as trustworthy and why she sends him to kidnap to sages to begin their plans.  Her mother had been the one who let him in the court. His actions, mirroring Agahnim’s where he uses his magic to help out. Of course, he has his own motives and sees the royal family as pathetic for numerous reasons. At times, Yuga does tick off Hilda, she tends to avoid him if this were to happen but quickly forgives due to her needing him. 

Unless involved, Hilda doesn’t trust anyone by default that said it’s easy to gain her favor provided you show something to show this. She’s a bit on the naive side, yes. Another thing to add is that she’s used to the hate from her people. There are a few that have faith in her but it’s very little. She treats this by not showing the hurt through apathy. However, she does understand why they’re angry and while not exactly pity (since she hates pity) she empathizes with them due to having her own set of anger towards herself more than her ancestors and believes they’re not at fault for treating her this way. She knew her ancestors were just trying to do the right thing to stop Lorule’s own sealing war but forgets this once the Triforce begins to draw out her descent to madness because it just makes her negative emotions blasted to fall max. 

Her study is a mess, filled with broken things and barely touched once ALBW rolls around. It wasn’t always like this, but frustrations and anxiety over the end that’s so close is the lead cause of the state. Her anger is very terrifying, as I say in her bio so it’s best to not piss her off. After the game, she does try to pull in it a bit but she has the emotional range of a teaspoon so it’s a process. What’s interesting she that her gives in to her emotions which is part of the reason why she makes so many bad choices. I’d like to get off topic a wee bit to compare with my Princess Zelda! ALTTP Zelda is far more emotional intelligent but knows that it’s wise to bottle up her personal feelings and focus on what to do as ruler in the grand scheme of things. It’s why she’s always calm and has a smile on her face, she does default to polite kindness but has no bias with this treatment as Zel shows this to everyone so long the other shows the same kindness in return. Her smile isn’t always on her face, (because she’s not a perpetual smiler hewoh she does express certain emotions like worry because... she human) but she has a gentle look to her. It’s Zel’s way of trying to calm others because how coolheaded she can appear. As well as not wanting to reveal her cards to the world. She can be a bit distant if the golden rule isn’t in action, treat others the way you want to be treated. So sometimes, you may see her as snide if a little rude through her words, you have to read between the lines because again personal feelings can’t be shown but she does slip up a bit because how annoying it is to deal with rude people, she goes through this a lot with nobles and in the court she doesn’t need this outside the castle. Hilda may be apathetic and gloomy but it’s very easy to see how she gives in to her emotional side thus she may be hard to read but certain actions sometimes suggest otherwise. That being said, she is very kind even if that benevolence is hard to see and tries to do everything she can for her people. Her need to prove her worth, combined with depression, combined with envy, combined with anxiety all mixes together as her villain status. It’s cool, post game she tries her hardest to look at the logical side of things rather than emotional side while trying to keep the best interest.

Hilda’s mother survives until she was ten while her father does not, dying by poison because good golly nobles are very corrupt here. Her mom grows paranoid at the fact that both of them could be next so she’s taught Hilda to always have a taste tester as well as using silverware to detect poison. And then there’s the mithridatism she did for the both of them, as messed up as that is. Hilda is immune to most poisons. There are other assassination attempts but well, she’s made it this far. Her mother, sadly, dies in a carriage accident after bandits believed she was just a noble rather than the queen. She takes the crown at an early age. And while she is queen she’s yet to be called this by her citizens, calling her princess Hilda shows that they don’t think she’s earned enough respect to have such a high position of power so try to knock her down a peg or two with this title since princesses do not have the same authority as kings or queens do. 

[kasplode]

Love.

Fandom: Steven Universe

Words: 1,700

Summary:

Steven with his family, in the days following his break down.

(Set after Steven Universe Future Episode 19, ‘I Am My Monster’)

—

Hey, you, show me that solvable problem

We can get through this

I'll do the hardest part with you

[READ ON AO3]

Steven is exhausted.

For the first time in several days, he’s actually alone. He’s sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window at the beach and the horizon beyond. He’d been playing games with Amethyst all morning, and now she’s left the house for her class at Little Homeschool. It’s nice to finally have a moment of quiet.

The Diamonds and Spinel went back to Homeworld a few days ago, at the insistence of Steven and the gems. He appreciates that they care, but Spinel was right, back then. Sometimes you need to not see someone for a while.

The rest his family have been all but smothering him in love. It seems that every moment of every day, there’s at least one aggressively loving person by his side; be it Dad, Connie, Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst, Bismuth, Peridot or Lapis.

‘That’s so many,’ Steven can’t help but think, sometimes. ‘So many people here. So many people I love, who love me. How did I ever feel so alone?’

But smothered as he is, it feels like he’s never been able to breathe quite so easily.

They’ve kept him busy, made sure he doesn’t do too much.

/-/

The day after his breakdown, Steven forces his tired body out of bed, where Connie is curled up beside him, passed Pearl, who has apparently taken up the whole ‘watching him while he sleeps’ thing again, and downstairs to make himself breakfast.

“Good morning Steven,” Pearl greets him, following him downstairs. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m-” Steven stops before he can say ‘fine’ and stares at the kitchen counter for a moment. Saying that will never be the same again, he thinks.

“I’m tired. I feel better than yesterday, though,” he says.

It’s true. Every move he makes is weighed down as if gravity is pulling at him harder than usual, trying to push him into the ground. But still, he can stand, and his emotions seem to have finally settled after the riotous rollercoaster of the past few days.

Pearl claps, rewarding his improved mood with a smile. A spark of happiness lights in Steven, but.

How long has it been since he’s made one of the gems smile? How long has it been since he’s even seen them smile, without sadness there to corru- ruin it?

Steven turns back to the counter. He’s so tired, but it’s no good if he goes back to bed now. He needs to get something in him, and with his current lack of energy, that ‘something’ may as well be a protein shake.

“Oh, Steven,” Pearl says, when Steven grabs the protein powder, “you need something with more substance than that to keep your strength up! I wanted to make breakfast for you and Connie.” She glances at the couch, “And Greg too, when he wakes up.”

Steven’s face falls against his wishes. He’s already caused so much trouble, he doesn’t want the gems to feel like they need to take care of his every whim and will just because he couldn’t handle himself!

Pearl looks at him, and her expression becomes a little less sure. “That is, if you’d like me to. I understand if you’d prefer to take care of it yourself, I just…”

And heck, he’s made Pearl lost for words. Not what he wants to do.

Steven forces himself to take a deep breath, breathing out the muggy smokiness invading his lungs. “No, it’s okay. If you want to, I’d love to eat your cooking again. It’s been a while.”

Pearl gives him a crooked smile and pulls him into a quick hug. “Excellent! I have so many recipes I’ve been meaning to try out. Maybe you can hang around and be my taste-tester today?”

He’d wanted to start helping the clean-up at Little Homeworld, but he supposes he can wait for an hour or two. For Pearl.

“Yeah. Sounds great.”

Steven convinces Pearl to let him help cook, needing to keep himself occupied. Connie comes down when she wakes up, and the noise of their conversation proves to be enough to rouse his dad.

Amethyst comes in from her room and is ecstatic to see so much food cooking. It takes Steven, Connie and Pearl’s combined efforts to save their breakfast from the voracious gem.

Garnet appears when the food is laid out on the table and makes herself comfortable, Cat Steven sitting in her hair.

Steven sits down with them all, feeling light for the first time in weeks.

/-/

He had eventually managed to sneak away to go to Little Homeworld, but as if she had future vision of her own, Bismuth was waiting at the warp when he arrived.

“You’ve been cleaning up everyone else’s messes for so long, Steven. You can sit this one out,” Bismuth had assured him, ushering him back onto the warp pad and taking him back home herself. He still felt bad, but in the end, he appreciated it.

He still isn’t ready to face everyone after wrecking Little Homeworld.

Tears well up in his eyes. He wipes at them frantically, but it’s no use. He’s been crying with startling frequency, and when he starts, it’s hard to stop.

And lately, when he cries, he is soon comforted. Before the first tear reaches his chin, there are big, multicoloured hands picking him up and carrying him to the couch.

When he’s put down again, he finds himself sat not on well-loved upholstery, but the strangely warm lap of a gem.

It’s way, way too comfortable to sit in Garnet’s lap, cradled in loving arms.

“I’m sixteen, Garnet,” he protests weakly. “You don’t need to- to put me in your lap like this anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Garnet says, giving him a little squeeze, “you’re never too old for affection.”

“Heh. I guess you’re right.” Steven’s voice comes out a little wet, as it often tends to do these days.

“I hope you’re prepared to not move for the next hour,” Garnet adds.

“What?”

A furry warmth climbs into his lap, and Steven is delighted to see Cat Steven making herself at home there.

“Oh.” Steven melts as Cat Steven begins to pur, and he scratches gently behind her ears.

As predicted, they remain that way for an hour before Steven’s tears dry and the void in his chest closes up, at which point Cat Steven stands, stretches, and walks away with a little miaow.

/-/

Connie returns to the house in the afternoon. She’s been spending an hour or so each day at the library, getting in some college prep while she’s away from home. Quite conspicuously, she’s only been studying when Dad or the gems have some kind of activity planned to keep him occupied for that time.

They sit down together for lunch, holding hands over the table, as Connie tells him about how she thinks gem technology defies physics. She asks after Steven’s day, and he tells her about the doctor’s appointment he’s booked and his impromptu cuddle session with Garnet and Cat Steven.

They fall into a comfortable silence, which of course is when Steven’s brain decides to throw everything in his face again. He doesn’t cry this time, but he feels the wrinkles of his frown.

“What is it?” Connie asks.

Steven bites his lip. He doesn’t want to bother her with it. But he can’t keep everything bottled up. If nothing else, he’s learnt his lesson about that.

“It’s just… I’m thinking about what happened. I’m worried that you’re still here. You should go home! I don’t want you to risk your future for me. You need to study, not look after me.”

“Steven, I’m here because I want to be,” Connie says. “Some things are more important than studying. It’s really not going to hurt for me to be here a bit longer. But that’s not all you’re worried about, is it?”

“Yeah. My…” he takes a deep breath, has to accept it, has to say it, “corruption. I really could’ve hurt people. You and Dad, all of the gems. And Beach City, Little Homeworld! I’m- or at least. My powers are dangerous. It’s scary. And I don’t know if I can ever make up for everything I’ve done with them.”

Connie gives him that look. That warm one, where her eyes go all soft, the one she gives because she’s concerned and she loves him and she wants to make everything better. Her other hand comes up to sandwich his own.

“Whatever happens from here,” Connie says slowly, “I can’t promise it’ll be easy. There’s no one, instant way to fix everything, or control your powers, or get better.” She squeezes his hands. Her sword-calloused hands, smaller than his own, are firm and strong.

“I know it was scary, and I understand why you’re scared. But what-ifs won’t help, okay? No one was hurt. The house wasn’t damaged, you didn’t get anywhere near Beach City.

“You can’t change what happened. But you’ve done so much good you shouldn’t ignore, and you can keep doing good. You aren’t alone, and we will never let you feel alone again. We’ve all learnt from this, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure you don’t break down, or become corrupted again.”

Connie looks him in the eye, holding his hand tight. “And if, somehow, things go wrong again? We will make it better. Crystal Gems always find a way.”

The tears come again, and Connie holds him tight as he clings to her.

“Thank you.”

/-/

Steven sits at the table, surrounded by his family.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen from here. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be okay again. He’s terrified he’ll break down again one day, and won’t come back.

The future is a foggy, unknowable mystery ahead of them all. There are still so many questions and uncertainties plaguing him.

But now, Steven’s pretty sure he has the beginnings of the way forward, a start for the answer.

He looks between his family members, so full of compassion and life, looks around the house, adorned by years of soft memories and tough decisions and firm, unending determination. He smiles.

Yeah, Steven’s pretty sure.

The answer… is love.

[desiraypark]

Locked Away

Clyde x Sherri (Non-Linear Series) Continuation of Shattered (and “Was it for a good reason?”)

“Haven’t seen your boyfriend in awhile, Sherri,” Yvonne, the morning manager said. She was punching her code into the computer to clock out. “We broke up,” Sherri responded softly. “Damn.” Yvonne walked to her locker and turned the lock’s knob. “Must have been bad for him to stop comin’ in here. I liked seein’ him come in to see you.” Sherri’s lock clicked open, and she grabbed her purse from the metal basket. “It wasn’t bad.” Yvonne nodded as her own lock clicked open, and as Sherri secured her storage locker once more.  “Just the same, I’m sorry to hear it,” Yvonne added. “Thank you,” Sherri said.

Sherri walked out ahead of Yvonne, not interested in continuing the conversation. 

She hadn’t heard from Clyde since that night she called him. Two weeks ago. For two weeks, she’d resisted the urge to text him and make sure he was okay. It was best that the breakup was clean. But she missed him. Like Yvonne said, she missed when he strolled in for his daily snacks.

She missed going to his house and being smacked with the scent of the wax melts she’d bought him (because he loved the way they smelled in her apartment so much). She missed being his little drink tester. It’d been two weeks since she drove to Duck Tape after work to keep him (and Earl) company. For two weeks, she’d longed for the combined scents of Irish Spring, peppermint, and Tide. For two long weeks, she’d spent every single night in her own bed. Her and Clyde hadn’t had sex, but laying on his chest and listening to his heartbeat filled her up just as well. 

Sherri climbed in her car, ordered a pizza and picked it up. Then, she drove home in complete silence. No radio, no Spotify. Just the sound of her tires rolling against the road. When she got home, she immediately climbed into her PJs, dropped two slices of pizza on a plate, poured herself some Pepsi, and closed herself in her room to binge episodes of Cutthroat Kitchen. Before she knew it, Tasha had come home and knocked on her door.  “Yeah?” Tasha peeped in and took in the sight of her best friend in her plaid pajamas and fuzzy socks--laying on her side with a plate of pizza crust in front of her.  “Hey, girl...” “Hey,” Sherri responded. “May I come in?” “Mm-hmm...” Tasha walked in, bringing the light scent of perfume with her. Tasha worked at a home goods store, and always smelled of her own perfume, or candles. Only in November, December, and around Easter did she come home looking and smelling like she’d been working on a railroad. Today, there wasn’t a hair out of a place or a single crinkle of her forehead. She sat at Sherri’s feet. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in awhile,” she said. She kicked off her shoes, climbed behind Sherri and rested her chin on her shoulder. Sherri only stared up at the television. She knew the water works were soon to come.  “How are you feeling?” “I’m feeling alright,” Sherri answered. “I just miss him, that’s all.” “Whatever he did...is it really that unforgivable?” Tasha asked. Sherri sighed. “It’s not that I can’t forgive him. It’s just...the baggage of it is too much to carry around.” Tasha turned over on her back and stared at the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you,” Sherri apologized. “No, it’s alright. I know you. I know you have a good reason not to tell me.” The sounds of cooks running around clinking utensils against pots and pans filled the short silence. “I never wanted to be one of those people who think they can’t live without someone...” Sherri continued. “But...” Her throat began to dry. “...I really can’t take another day without him...” Tears rolled down her face, and she quickly wiped them away.  “It hurts,” she added, her voice cracking. “It literally hurts.” Tasha returned to her best friend’s side and held her close. Sherri sobbed in her embrace.  “I know, Sherri. It’s okay...” Tasha said. She’d never seen Sherri this upset. This hurt. It pained her so much, that she found herself fighting back tears of her own.

_____________________

Tag List: Thanks to everyone who asked to be on a tag list! I’m considering working out various lists, but for now, if you’d like to be on a permanent/everything tag list, just leave a comment! Sorry if I overlooked anyone! Just let me know in the comments!

@aloneandsleepless @direnightshade @finn-ray-nal-beads @a-true-janian-reply @thegreenmatt @sister-winter73 @loewsy55​ @mariesackler​ @clydes-hole​ @sydneyssmut​ @kirah36​

[just-another-ficwriter]

Cruel Summer - Part Two

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 2100ish

Warnings: Lying

Summary: With your past blurring with your present, you find yourself struggling to be around Katy and Sweet Pea. But when he makes a point of tracking you down you can’t help but spend time with him.

Read part one here

What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.

You should have been honest from the start.

You should have told Katy who Sweet Pea was, what it had meant to see them together, how everything you thought you had felt had shifted since you’d found out the truth.

But instead you ignored it. Acting as if Sweet Pea being thrust back into your life wasn’t confusing, that your best friend dating the only guy you’d ever loved wasn’t a problem and that you were totally fine about the whole situation.

After the party you decided to throw yourself into work, focusing your mind on your growing business so it wouldn’t be tempted to wonder. You used it as a perfect excuse to avoid catch ups with Katy, to duck out of get togethers organised by Betty and Veronica and even though you’d stayed in contacted with Fangs and Toni you’d swerve the conversation every time it headed to something Sweet Pea related.

It has worked for three whole weeks until he surprised you at work. 

You shouldn’t have even been at your Bakery when he walked in, but the minute the small bell above the door rang out you could feel his presence, the sense almost overwhelming.

He knew he shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have wanted to, but it’s all he could think about.

“One vanilla cupcake please.” His voice held a note of uncertainty, but it was still warm, and it had a way of making you think of home even though Sweet Pea had stopped being that a long time ago.

“Pea what are you doing here?” You will yourself to turn and face him, a fake smile plastered on your lips as you tried to ignore the way your heart rate picked up at just the sight of him.

“I was just passing and I saw this little bakery, thought I’d stop in and here you are.” You could tell he was lying by his over dramatic hand gestures as he pointed towards you, feigning shock as he fought off a nervous laugh.

“Really?” Your raised eyebrow told him you were definitely on to him, the tips of his ears turning red at the thought of being caught out.

“No.” He admitted, self consciously scratching the back of his head, his cheeks starting to burn pink. “Jug mentioned you own a bakery and I’ve been craving one of your cupcakes since.”

You know you should have been mad at him, annoyed that he was making avoiding situations like this so difficult but you couldn’t but laugh as you reached down into the counter and placed a cupcake in front of him. “It’s a good job you found it then.”

You watched in silence as he accepted it, a child like grin on his face as he excitedly peeled back the paper. You wonder if he’s thinking what you are as you recall all the times you’d baked together in the past, Sweet Pea assigning himself master taste tester just so he could eat everything.

“Just as good as I remember.” He groaned after he took a bite, his tongue coming out to lick the frosting off his lips as he savoured the taste, realising how much he’d missed it. How much he’d missed you. “Are you busy right now?”

His question caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise as you began to shake your head. “Actually I-“

“Was just leaving, you’re shift ended 10 minutes ago, I’ve got it from here.” Ethel cut you off from the other end of the counter, oblivious to the fact you wanted to spend as little time as you could with Sweet Pea.

“Maybe we could go for a walk?” His smile was warm and he had an inviting look in his eyes that made you instantly regret even thinking about saying no. “Catch up?”

“Just give me five.” You sighed, already knowing it was a bad idea.

-

After you left the bakery, you and Sweet Pea fell into a comfortable routine of telling each other about the last seven years of your lives. You explained how you met Katy, the highs and lows of university life and how you’d come to own the bakery as he told you about how different Riverdale was now, recalling his version of a story you knew all too well, of how the Serpents and FP had worked together with the occasional help from Jughead and Archie to bring down Hiram Lodge for good and save the town. You smiled sadly as he explained his decision to travel and reminisced about meeting Katy in the South of France. You wanted to be happy for them, you truly did and even though part of you was, you also couldn’t ignore the aching in your chest.

“This is weird isn’t it?” He asked, almost as if he could read your mind as you found a bench to sit.

“Definitely isn’t what I thought I’d be doing today.” You confessed, wondering if your best friend dating your ex boyfriend would ever feel normal.

“Katy thinks you’re avoiding her.” He blurted out, already worrying if he’d crossed a line.

“I’m not avoiding her-“ You tried to back track, the air between the two of you thickening with unease as the conversation stuck on Katy and you felt yourself beginning to spiral.

“Then it’s me you’re avoiding.” He cut you off, his sentence more a statement than a question, he didn’t need an answer to know he was right.

“Pea I’m not... it’s a lot to get my head around okay?” You knew there was no point in lying, Sweet Pea could read you just as well as you could read him.

“I get it, trust me I do...” He ran a hand down his face, his composure slipping slightly as he showed how difficult it was for him too. But then he took a deep a breath, a smile back on his face as he spoke with a sense of hope. “But we were friends once, maybe we could be again?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You returned his smile, a small gust of wind making you shiver but you barely noticed the goosebumps on your arms as you question whether you and Sweet Pea could ever be just friends again.

“Are you cold?” He asked, already shrugging his jacket off instead of waiting for you to answer.

“I’m fine-“ You insist, hands held up to object.

“Here.” Despite your protests Sweet Pea wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, his fingertips lightly brushing against your skin making you shiver. The minute it touched you it was almost as if you could feel the cold leather touch of his old Serpent jacket, the smell of him consuming your senses and making you think back to your first ‘unofficial’ date.

-

You made a mental note to kill Betty and Veronica as you checked the clock for the sixth time, finally realising the date they’d set you up with definitely was not coming.

You grabbed your bag, getting ready to leave when a familiar face slid into the booth opposite you.

“Leaving already?” He grinned over at you, leaning over to take a sip of your half empty milkshake.

“Please don’t tell me you’re the blind date B and V set me up with.” You rolled your eyes but the smirk on your lips told him maybe you wouldn’t mind if he was.

“No, but I’ve watched you sitting here for an hour now and I felt kind of bad for you.” You were waiting for him to come out with some witty remark he was infamous for, but his smile softened. “Thought you might want some company?”

“Only if you’re buying the curly fries.” He laughed at your response, a sound that made the last hour worth it, and you swore you saw his body relax slightly in relief at your answer.

“Deal.”

That was the first time Sweet Pea really surprised you, where he showed you that there was so much more to him than the tough, mysterious Serpent front that he presented. He was warm, and kind, and even funny to a point where your cheeks would ache from laughing too much.

That night curly fries weren’t the only thing you shared as he let his mask slip and invited you to get to know him a little better. You remember never wanted the night to end but you knew your parents would kill you, and probably him too if you skipped past your curfew.

So when it came to time to go home, Sweet Pea insisted he walk with you, your feet stepping in sync, your arms touching ever so slightly.

“Are you cold?” He looked down at you, noticing the way your teeth had started to chatter, your body slightly shaking.

“A little.” You admitted sheepishly with a shrug, goosebumps already littering your skin.

“Here-“ He was instantly shrugging his jacket off, both of you stopping in the street as you insisted you’d be fine. But he ignored you anyway, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he wrapped it around your shoulders. “Looks good on you.”

His voice was dangerously low, his hands still clinging onto the jacket as the leather drowned your frame. All you could smell was him, your whole body surrounded by Sweet Pea and you couldn’t help but reach up, mind spinning as you hoped your lips would meet his.

But then he pulled away, awkwardly mumbling something about how late it was and how you both needed to get going, the two of you walking the rest of the way in silence.

-

If anyone asked you now when the first time you fell for Sweet Pea was you knew that memory would be your answer. It was the first time you’d truly noticed him, and the two of you had laughed months later at the way he’d backed away from the kiss, his nerves getting the better of him.

“Pea I’m sorry, I-“ You shrugged his jacket off, shoving it back into his chest, everything starting to get too much. “I’ve got to go.”

You were stumbling to you feet before he had a chance to stop you, letting them drag you away as fast as they could as you ignored him calling your name.

You were right, it definitely was a bad idea.

-

Once you finally managed to escape Sweet Pea’s sights, you retreated back to your apartment, the walls around you feeling like they were closing in. You found comfort in your duvet blanket, wrapping it around your entire body as if it would shield you from the outside world and pairing it with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, the only two men you ever needed in your life.

“It’s only me!” Katy called out as she let herself in, the two of you staring at each other in shock once she found you on the couch. You should have felt embarrassed that she’d caught you during the middle of a pity party but you were more annoyed that she’s walked in unannounced but she already knew you wouldn’t stay mad. “You should really lock that door.”

“Most people normally knock.” You countered, untangling yourself from the duvet.

“I’m not most people.” She was smiling now, lifting up the pink box in her hands. “And I come baring gifts.”

“What’s this?” You eyed it suspiciously as she pushed it onto your lap.

“Open it and find out.” She was practically bouncing up and down now, too excited to sit still as she joined you on the couch. She watched eagerly as you lifted the lid, jaw dropping as you saw it was filled to the brim with things labelled with your initial and a card that read ‘Will you be my Maid Of Honour?’

“Katy...” Your voice trailed off as you stared down at the card, hands trembling slightly. You should have been honest right there, you should have told her that you couldn’t agree until she was okay with the past you and Sweet Pea shared but the look she was giving you made it impossible.

“Well?” She playfully hit your leg, impatiently waiting your answer. “And just so you know, I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Yes!” You plastered on a smile, laughing alongside her as she dived at you, arms wrapping around her neck.

That was your second bad decision of the day.

Sweet Pea Masterlist

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Cruel Summer Taglist: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @luvlilreinhart

[ezrisdax-archive]

recipe for disaster

The quickest way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. Too bad Dorothea’s such a bad chef. (also here on ao3)

~~

The dish was slammed down in front of her so hard that Ingrid was certain for a second it was going to crack. When it didn’t she peered at it curiously, looking up at Dorothea’s beaming smile.

 “What’s this?” Ingrid asked, trying to wipe the sweat off her brow from her training session. She felt a little self conscious doing it in front of Dorothea but she was certain Dorothea wouldn’t appreciate her getting sweat on her by accident.

 Sure enough Dorothea wrinkled her nose a little in a manner that Ingrid absolutely refused to find cute.

 Except that it was.

 “I just thought you’ve been training so hard that you could use something to eat now.” Dorothea said, catching herself quickly enough and smoothing her face to a brighter expression.

 “Oh.” Ingrid looked down at the dish again, “That’s sweet Dorothea, thank you.”

 Dorothea sat down opposite of her, resting her chin in her hands, elbows on the table.

 “Oh.” Ingrid said again and picked up the spoon, taking a scoop of the…soup? Stew? She squinted at it, trying to figure out what it was. Hesitantly she took a bite and was immediately choking due to the spice level in whatever it was.

 “Ingrid!” Dorothea cried out and pressed a glass of water to her hands.

 She chugged it down, wincing when she finally drank it all at the still burning sensation in her mouth.

 “It’s no good then?” Dorothea’s shoulders fell and a look of disappointed flashed on her face. “Sorry, Ingrid. I might have uh, measured some things wrong.”

 “What was it supposed to be?” Ingrid couldn’t help but ask.

 “Rice pudding!”

 Ingrid stared down at the brown mess in front of her and couldn’t for the life of her pick out anything that looked vaguely like that rice even.

 “Right. Of course.” She slid the dish away from her. “It was a nice gesture Dorothea.” She quickly assured her. “But I think I’ll try something else.”

 Dorothea sighed heavily, “That’s all right, Ingrid.” She perked up a moment later, “I’ll just try again.”

 Ingrid frowned, “Again?”

 “Don’t worry,” Dorothea assured her in a way that Ingrid didn’t find reassuring at all. “I’m not giving up.” With that Dorothea stood up and made her way back to the kitchen.

 “I…” Ingrid watched her leave, feeling more than a little confused. “Give up on what?”

 ~~

 Dorothea ambushed her again the next day right after training, with another bright smile and a plate of food that Ingrid couldn’t guess at what it was supposed to be.

 “At it again I see.” Ingrid said, approaching it with some apprehension.

 “Yes! I’m not a girl who gives up easily.” Dorothea tossed her hair back, fingers sliding through the soft strands and Ingrid’s own fingers twitched with a sudden desire to feel it.

 “I never thought you were Dorothea.” Ingrid teased. “You always put your best into everything, it’s admirable.”

 Dorothea’s eyes lit up at the compliment. “Oh Ingrid, you’re the sweetest.”

 “Hardly.” Ingrid waved the returned compliment off. “You should hear my father trying to explain what I’m like to potential suitors. There’s a lot of ‘she’s very competent’ and not quite the homemaker qualities in there.”

 “Well I think you’re the sweetest.” Dorothea assured her. “You’re always looking out for others and caring, believe me those are qualities that aren’t appreciated enough.” Dorothea tilted her head at Ingrid, a smile ghosting on her lips. “You make people feel safe.”

 Ingrid flushed, “O-oh. I’m glad you think so.” She shifted in her seat lightly, feeling uncomfortably warm. “I can assure you I’ll always keep you safe on the battlefield. Or try my best.”

 Dorothea laughed, a light tinkling sound that echoed in the dining hall no matter how loud it was. “I didn’t just mean on there, I meant in general. You’ve just got that quality about you. And,” She paused for dramatic effect, leaning in just a little and lowering her voice. “You’re lovely to look at.”

 “Not as lovely as you are.” Ingrid said back without thinking. “I mean. Well no, I did mean that.” Ingrid cleared her throat. “You know that of course.”

 “Yes my looks are part of my appeal, I have been told.” Dorothea said it breezily, too casually for Ingrid’s comfort.

 “If that’s all they’ve been telling you or appreciating then they aren’t worth your time.” Ingrid frowned. “There’s more to looks about you.”

 “What did I say?” Dorothea brightened again, “You’re the sweetest.”

 Ingrid looked down, trying to calm the blush on her face, which brought her in eye contact with the plate of food again. “Let’s see if you’ve improved here.” She said, picking up the fork with a smile at Dorothea. She took a piece of the…vegetables? Meat? And brought it slowly to her mouth. Dorothea watched her carefully, her green eyes full of worry.

 It wasn’t spicy that time which was the best thing Ingrid could say of it. She could at least swallow but the tastes certainly didn’t blend together, whatever it was overcooked and full of herbs that didn’t go well with it.

 Ingrid tried to school her face into something neutral but it was too late and Dorothea clicked her tongue in disappointment.

 “I suppose it’s a good thing that the school offers us meals.” Dorothea said with a weak smile. She took the plate from Ingrid before she could say another word and walked off.

 “I wonder why she wants me as a taste tester…” Ingrid mused to herself and then went to get a proper meal to satisfy her growling stomach. She’d have to find Dorothea later and cheer her up, she certainly looked downcast again.

 ~~

 “You have a shadow.” Felix said the next day at the training grounds as he dodged another of Ingrid’s attacks.

 “What?” She spared a glance quickly over her shoulder to see Dorothea sitting in the shade. She waved at Ingrid when she noticed her looking.

 “She was here yesterday before you left as well.” Felix tried to take advantage of her distracted gaze to lunge at her but Ingrid ducked out of the way in time, knocking the edge of his sword with her lance to try to twist it from his grasp.

 “She was?” Ingrid asked and took a step back when that didn’t work to take another plan into account.

 “She was.” Felix echoed in confirmation. “It was quite annoying.”

 Ingrid rolled her eyes at Felix attitude but was far too used to it anyway to let it get to her. She instead chose to charge at him, feinting right and then attacking left. Felix managed to block her in time anyway and they separated to circle each other again.

 “Felix!” Sylvain’s yell came from across the courtyard as he dashed in and came to a halt before them. “There you are, you promised you’d come to town today. I had plans for double dates and everything.”

 “I promised no such thing.” Felix spat out.

 She could tell that their training session was done for the day when Sylvain sulked and began to extoll about the virtues of girls. Normally she would have stopped them from getting into the fight they were clearly about to but Dorothea beckoned her over.

 “I don’t normally see you here.” Ingrid said in greeting, leaning on her training lance that she planted in the ground at Dorothea’s feet.

 “I just like the view.” Dorothea winked at her and stood up, brushing off her skirt. “I brought you something, thought you could use a nice cool drink after training.” She reached down to the basket she’d brought and pulled out a class. “It’s cucumbers and water. I kept it cool with magic.”

 That didn’t sound so bad, certainly better than rice pudding and other dish and it looked like water. Ingrid reached out to take it and took a sip, regretting it the second she did. It wasn’t cold at all, though the glass was cold the liquid inside was somehow nearly scalding and the cucumbers tasted burnt.

 Ingrid swallowed regrettably and made a face. “Uh Dorothea…”

 “What?” Dorothea took the glass and took a sip herself, spitting it out automatically. “How…?”

 “Don’t you only know lightning magic?” Ingrid asked, realizing now that she thought about it that she’d never seen Dorothea use ice magic.

 “Well…yes.” Dorothea admitted and dumped the rest of the cucumber water onto the ground with a huff. “But I didn’t think it’d be that hard…”

 “Maybe leave the ice stuff to Marianne.” Ingrid said with a tight smile, the after taste of the drink was still getting to her. “But thank you.”

 “Don’t thank me for this!” Dorothea scowled at the water puddling at their feet. “I thought I’d keep it simple this time but clearly that didn’t end well…Oh I have to get this right eventually!” Dorothea muttered, mostly to herself.

 Ingrid raised an eyebrow, curious what Dorothea was talking about. A pained yelp had her whirling around however before she could question it and she turned to see that Felix had Sylvain pinned to the ground.

 “Those two…” Ingrid grumbled and stomped off to separate them. By the time she’d finished Dorothea was gone and the only thing left was the smell of burnt cucumbers in the air.

 ~~

 Dorothea didn’t approach her with food the next day, or the day after that, and Ingrid couldn’t seem to find her at the monastery.

 “S-she’s not in here!” Bernadetta wailed from her room when Ingrid knocked on her door to ask. “Please don’t break my door down.”

 “Do you know where she might be?” Ingrid asked, sighing at the door.

 “N-no!”

 “Do you have any idea what’s gotten into her recently?” Ingrid asked, somewhat desperately. “She’s been on this cooking spree lately and seems really upset about something…”

 Bernadetta was quiet and then the door cracked open a little. “I don’t. I know I heard her talking about it! I mean, cooking. But I didn’t ask her. I-if she’s upset I can try to help?”

 “Thanks Bernadetta, if I need it I’ll ask.” Ingrid smiled at her.

 “Maybe ask Petra?” Bernadetta suggested before letting the door close and Ingrid go.

 Ingrid sighed, rocking back on her feet a little. She felt off balance not having seen Dorothea or gotten to the bottom of it and honestly she was just a little sad to have missed Dorothea the past few days. It wasn’t like before they’d spent much time together but she had at least enjoyed seeing her.

 And seeing her smile.

 Ingrid shook her head to get rid of that thought as she walked to Petra’s room, knocking on the door briskly and waiting for an answer.

 “Yes?” Petra asked as she opened the door, blinking curiously at Ingrid.

 “Petra! Hi,” Ingrid tucked a strand of hair that had gotten loose back behind her ear. “I was wondering if you’d seen Dorothea today.”

 Petra hummed in thought and then shook her head. “I have not.”

 “Oh.” Ingrid frowned, “Have you talked to her recently? Do you know why she’s been cooking so much?”

 Petra’s eyebrows rose at that. “Dorothea? Cooking? This is most unusual, her cooking is…I believe I have used the word horrendous.”

 “You’re not wrong.” Ingrid agreed, wincing. “Dorothea’s good at a lot of things but this doesn’t seem to be her specialty.”

 “I wonder why she would be doing this?” Petra mused. “Perhaps Dorothea is to be making the attempt to…what is the expression used… ‘leaf out’?”

 “Branch out.” Ingrid said, “Maybe. I can’t find her to get an answer for it.”

 “If I see her I will let her know you are looking.” Petra offered with a slight bow of her head. She regarded Ingrid curiously then. “You have been the recipient of Dorothea’s cooking?”

 “Yes, she keeps finding me at the dining hall to give me food. I just can’t figure out why.”

 “Hmmm…In Brigid one gives another a meal to share in the victory of battle.”

 “Oh, in Faerghus we split the pelt of a hunted animal between the hunters to show our equal effort in the fight.” Ingrid tapped her fingers against her cheek. “I can’t remember anything special about food however…”

 “I have not read of any customs in the Empire as such.” Petra admitted, “Ferdinand or Linhardt may be giving you the information.”

 “I’m sure it’s nothing so complicated.” Ingrid laughed, “Dorothea’s hardly one for customs.”

 “This is true.” Petra agreed, “She is most unusual.”

 “She is.” Ingrid smiled, “But I enjoy it. Dorothea keeps things interesting, she’s lived such a different life from my own… I just hope she’s happy now. She’s been through a lot and I know she hates to fight… I keep trying to make sure I’m in front of her when the professor sends us out.” If only so she knew personally that Dorothea was safe and okay. It was comforting to know when she turned around that Dorothea would be at her back.

 Petra met her eyes, staring at her like she was calculating something. “Ah,” She finally said. “I have been made aware. You care for Dorothea.”

 “Of course!” Ingrid said, slightly defensively. “Don’t you?”

 “Yes. I care for the happiness of my friend.” Petra smiled, “I am most glad she has found someone as well.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ingrid asked, puzzled.

 Petra shook her head. “It is of no concern. My apologies for not knowing of Dorothea’s location.”

 “I…thank you?” Ingrid felt off kilter suddenly, like they were having two different conversations entirely.

 Petra nodded once more at her and then shut her door, leaving Ingrid baffled.

 ~~

 She gave up on her Dorothea search partway through the day, none of the other Black Eagles knew where she was and Ingrid wasn’t about to ask Hubert if he knew about Dorothea’s recent actions. She was afraid of the answer she might get back from him.

 She trudged to the training grounds, figuring that she could get some training in before the day ended, and rounded the corner only to bang into someone.

 “Oh shoot…” The voice said, dejected, and Ingrid recognized it.

 “Dorothea?” She asked and blinked in surprise, seeing Dorothea sprawled on the ground with a basket next to her.

 “Ingrid! Just the gal I’ve been looking for.” Dorothea grabbed the basket and righted herself up. “Don’t suppose you’ve had dinner yet?”

 “I…haven’t….” Ingrid said cautiously, eyeing the basket. “Look Dorothea, what’s this all about?”

 “Pardon?”

 “The cooking, why are you cooking so much, and why am I your taste tester?”

 Dorothea shifted on her feet, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. There was a flush of her cheeks that betrayed her embarrassment.

 “Well.” Dorothea began, clutching the basket tighter. “I just was thinking…it might be a way to get a suitor is all. Being more homely.”

 There was a pit in Ingrid’s stomach that burned. “Oh. I see.” Ingrid tried to keep her voice level. “Well, any real suitor shouldn’t be looking just for that.”

 “Not even if they’re the type who loves food?” Dorothea’s smile was wry.

 “You have someone specific in mind then?” Ingrid suddenly felt worse; the pit in her stomach bloomed and felt an awful lot like jealousy.

��“You’re kidding.” Dorothea deadpanned as she stared at Ingrid.

 “What?” Ingrid asked, taken aback.

 “Ingrid….” Dorothea huffed, “Who do you know that loves food that I’ve been spending time with recently.”

 “Um…” Ingrid racked her brain, thinking back to the past week. “Caspar?”

 “Caspar?!” Dorothea asked, indignant. “That isn’t- oh I knew this was a bad plan.”

 “Dorothea?”

 Dorothea set he basket down and put her hands on her hips, facing Ingrid with a determined look on her face. “You Ingrid. I’ve been spending time with you.”

 “You’ve been…trying to learn how to cook for me?” Ingrid couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

 “Yes!”

 “I thought you said this was for a suitor?”

 Dorothea stared at her.

 “Oh.”

 She stared harder.

 “Oh!” Ingrid gaped. “Me?”

 Dorothea sighed, “Well I didn’t think you’d respond well to jewelry.”

 “I thought as the suitor I was supposed to buy you some.” Ingrid said rather numbly.

 Dorothea bounced on it, “Oh Ingrid, I’ll accept it.”

 “Now hang on.” Ingrid held her hands up. “You’ve been trying to get my attention with food so I’ll court you?”

 “When you put it like that it sounds silly.” Dorothea pouted at her.

 “You just admitted it was a bad idea!” Ingrid protested.

 “Well…yes.” Dorothea relented. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard. My cooking can’t be that bad.”

 “No Petra is right, it’s horrendous.” Ingrid blurted out, wincing a little at that response.

 Dorothea wilted, “I know. I just thought if I put the effort into it…”

 “I appreciate it. The effort that is. Not the food.” Ingrid’s mouth was moving with much input from her brain. “And…um,” She coughed, “I might not mind it.”

 “Oh?” Dorothea clasped her hands together, “Does this mean…?”

 Ingrid took a deep breath and then bowed. “Dorothea Arnault, would you do me the honour of allowing me to court you?” She straightened herself back up, waiting for Dorothea’s answer,

 Dorothea giggled, the happy tinkling noise that Ingrid had grown to love hearing. “I’d be delighted to! Now!” She reached down to grab the basket. “About dinner.”

 Ingrid blanched.

 “Don’t worry, I’ve been spending the last few days with Ashe and Mercedes. They helped cook this.”

 “Oh thank the Goddess.” Ingrid sighed in relief. She blushed a little as she offered Dorothea her arm. “I think there’s a spot outside the monastery that has a good view for the sunset.”

 “Keeping me out into the night already?” Dorothea took her arm and winked at her. “Why Ingrid I never knew you were so forward.”

 “That isn’t- it’s not-” Ingrid fumbled with her words and groaned. “How about we go to the opera?” At least she wasn’t expected to talk then. “Though I doubt the singer will be as good as you are.”

 Dorothea snuggled in a little closer to her, her weight warm against Ingrid’s and Ingrid’s heart beat faster in her chest as response.

 “You really do know how to charm a girl.”

 “I must have done something right to catch your interest.”

 “I told you Ingrid. You were the sweetest.”

[hushman]

Curse you Pidge the Paladin

Summary:

Pidge the Paladin (known also as Agent P) is an agent for O.W.C.A. (the Organisation Without a Cool Acronym) and dedicated to helping keep the world safe. She does this by stopping the "nefarious” schemes of “Evil Genius” Lance McClain, founder of Lance McClain Evil Inc. and evil invention tester for L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. (the League Of Villainous Evildoers Maniacally United For Frightening Investments in Naughtiness). Armed with the best untested equipment L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. can supply him with, Lance will work tirelessly on his plans for global conquest, unless it's on the weekends, after 5pm or if he’s takes a personal day. Taking over the world is all fine and dandy but a good work-life balance is essential.

Rating: Everyone

Tags: Comedy, adventure,

My entry for the Plance Mini Bang over at @planceminibang

Special thank you to @oddreycharge for Beta reading this and to @perrytheplatypusgirl for making a gorgeous piece of art for this fic.

Check it here

You can read the story below or you can read it over at Archive of our Own

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764709

Enjoy

****

Pidge, hotshot O.W.C.A. agent, arrived in her secret base in a teal smart suit, orange tie, brown fedora, and black-rimmed glasses. She sat down in her chair in front of a screen as her boss, Coran Smythe, appeared onscreen.

“Greetings, Agent P,” Coran said. “Our intelligence shows strange frequencies being transmitted from the headquarters of Lance McClain as well as “how to detect increase in bird behaviour” on his web history. Your mission is to go there and put a stop to whatever nefarious scheme he is up to. Best of luck, Agent P.”

Pidge gave a salute, climbed into her jet-powered hover car, and flew off just as her theme song was starting.

Dooby dooby doo-bah Dooby dooby doo-bah Dooby dooby doo-bah Dooby dooby doo-bah Pidge!

She's a computer savvy, tech loving lady of action! (Dooby dooby doo-bah) (Dooby dooby doo-bah) She's a scrappy young hacker, Who'll never flinch from a fray-ee-ay-ee-ay!

She's got more than just all that, Fe(Wah-ah-ah) She's got a snazzy suit and a hat, Fe(ah-ah) And the men all swoon whenever they hear her sa-a-a-ay

“Hold up, who said anything about swooning?”

She’s Pidge, Pidge the Paladin But you can call her Agent P. Pidge! I said you can call her Agent P! A-gent-P!

A short flight later, she arrived at Lance McClain Evil Incorporated by crashing through a skylight.

Waiting for her was Lance McClain in a lab coat and holding a remote.

“Ah, Pidge the Paladin, what an unexpected surprise,” Lance commented. “And by that I mean entirely expected!”

Lance pushed a button. A massive pole popped behind Pidge. Before she could react, a stream of bola flew in, tying her to the pole.

“It appears you have fallen for my cunning trap.”

“Cunning trap?” Pidge deadpanned. “This is the third time you've tried to use this thing. You even marked out on the floor where you wanted me to stand.”

“And yet, you fell for it,” Lance crowed in rebuttal.

Pidge gave as much of a shrug as her restraints allowed. “I wanted to see if you had fixed the aim on the bola launchers.”

Lance pursed his lips. “Fine, act all high and mighty tied to that pole while I enact my evil scheme.”

“And by “enact”, you mean tell some backstory to justify whatever hairbrained scheme and device you have today.”

Lance ignored this jab as he introduced his latest “tragic backstory”.

“You see, it harkens back to my miserable youth spent in my cold and unforgiving fatherland.”

“You grew up in Cuba.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Lance snapped back before continuing. "My siblings have always despised me."

"Just last week, you said Veronica was wrapped around your little finger and loved you with all her heart."

"That was last week,” Lance dismissed. “As I was saying, I was left to face the endless shame and ridicule from my elder siblings. But no more! Finally, they shall learn true terror with this: the Fowlagitationinator!”

Lance flung his arms flamboyantly towards the glorified satellite dish.

“So what exactly does it do?” Pidge asked.

“I am so very glad you asked.” Lance paused briefly as he failed to discreetly pull back his sleeve notes. “This device will emit a frequency that will increase the aggression in every bird within the city.” He read monotonously, “All urban activities will grind to a halt as everyone is terrorised by millions of feathery foes, leaving the city ripe for the taking.” His voice and arms pitched in confidence, dropping his speaker notes in the process.

“Millions?” Pidge raised an eyebrow. ���I think you’re overestimating the city’s bird population.”

“I was going for dramatic effect.” Lance let out a groan. “Look, you’re here to thwart my schemes, not criticise them.”

“Fair enough,” Pidge conceded. “Speaking of thwart...”

At that moment, the restraints fell off her body.

“So, did it actually take you this long to escape, or were you waiting for me to finish talking?”

“Didn’t want to be rude.”

Pidge pounced at Lance with a jump kick. The man dodged with a last minute swivel, just barely missing Pidge’s boot. While the first strike had not connected, it had placed her between Lance and the device. He tried to throw a right hook at her. Pidge ducked and delivered a double palm strike to Lance’s abdomen.

“Your gut feels firmer,” Pidge commented. “Have you been working out?”

“Why yes, I have. Thank you for noti..Argh!” Lance was interrupted by Pidge flooring him with a roundhouse kick.

“Are you ever going to not fall for the compliment sucker punch?” The agent snorted.

She fell to ground with a yelp when Lance yanked one of her legs.

“It’s not a crime to appreciate it when you notice the effort I put into this body,” Lance replied as he stood up and wiped his mouth to check for blood. “Speaking of which, would you stop going for the face?”

“Sure.”

Lance managed to catch Pidge’s foot before it connected with his groin.

“Not what I meant.”

Lance flung Pidge by her leg across the room, causing her to hit the brick wall with a crash. He raced to press the large red button on the device. Pidge fired her grappling gun. The cable shot out, wrapping around Lance’s arm and pulling him back. He managed to get his arm free from his lab coat in time to bring his guard up against a furious onslaught of limbs.

What followed was a series of back-and-forth blows. While Lance had a higher endurance, Pidge was harder to hit. This continued unabated until he picked up a nearby chair. Pidge snatched a stool of her own.

Before either of them could take a swing, a ringtone interrupted the battle. Both Lance and Pidge put down the chairs.

“Is that your phone or mine?” Lance asked.

“Yours,” Pidge replied. “I changed my ringtone last week.”

“Huh.” Lance checked his phone. “It’s my brother. I’d better take this.”

Pidge nodded her consent as Lance answered the phone.

“Hey Luis, how’s it going?...Not too bad. Same old, same old...Yeah, she’s here to thwart my scheme...Nah, it’s fine, what’s up? Sure I can watch them tonight...not a problem at all...You’ll be here at 7? Yeah, that's fine.” Lance looked up and saw Pidge pointing to her watch. “Listen I’d better get back to work but I’ll see you tonight...Love you too.”

Lance hung up and put away the phone.

“Thanks for that, so do you want go back to chairs?”

“Nah, the moment’s gone.”

“Fair enough.”

Pidge proceeded to duck and perform a leg sweep, causing Lance to fall to the ground. As he picked himself up, Pidge raced over to the device. She pushed the self-destruct button and pulled out her grappling gun. She fired out a line, yanking herself through the skylight as the device exploded.

“CURSE YOU, PIDGE THE PALADIN!” Lance yelled.

Once he was certain was alone, he picked up a broom and started cleaning up the debris.

“You know, just once, it would be nice for her to stick around to help with the clean up.”

****

Lance had just finished sending his report to head office when the doorbell rang. He opened the door and was tackled by two blurs of energy.

“Come on you two, don’t break Uncle Lance within the first two minutes.”

“Hey, I can take it,” Lance laughed. “How about you both pick a game on the gameflux?”

At that sentence, the two raced off to where the gameflux was set up.

“I swear that thing is 90% of the reason they like me babysitting,” Lance commented.

“Well, that and the fact you usually offer pizza,” Luis said. “So you okay? You’re developing a bit of a bruise.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance replied. “The agent O.W.C.A. assigned to me just got a lucky hit in.”

“The compliment sucker punch?” Luis asked.

“Gets me every time.”

“You know, man, you really need to see about getting out of that franchise.”

“Eh…” Lance gave a non-committal shrug. “It’s not that bad. Besides, we both know it takes three million dollars to buy out of the place before the two years are up. I got into this mess. I can take the lumps to wait it out.”

“Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“Trust me it’s fine. Sure, that woman kicks my butt on a regular basis, but at least we’re keeping things professional.”

Luis rolled his eyes. “Only you would consider being punched in the face as professional.”

“Well, it kinda is her job to punch me in the face since I am technically trying to take over the city slash country slash world.”

“That sounds like the best job in the world.”

“Love you too, bro.”

With a quick hug, Luis left. 20 minutes after watching his niece and nephew screech at each other in Combat Cousins X, Lance heard the doorbell.

He answered the door. Standing there was Katie Holt, holding a couple of pizza boxes.

“Battle supplies as requested,” she said with a wink.

“Thanks, Katie. You're a lifesaver.”

“Oh please, considering the stuff I’ve seen you survive, you’re practically immortal,” Katie replied flippantly.

Lance scowled at her suspiciously. “What exactly have you seen me survive?”

“For starters, Charlene LeManche.”

“Objection withdrawn.”

Katie’s watch started vibrating.

“Excuse me.”

She stepped out onto the balcony. Satisfied that Lance had given her privacy, she activated her watch to see an image of Coran.

“Hope I’m not bothering, Agent P,” Coran said. “I just wanted to congratulate you another job well done.”

“Thanks, Coran. Though if you don’t mind, I’d better head back inside. Secret identity to maintain and all that.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Agent P.”

Katie hung up on Coran and went back inside. Tomorrow, she would probably be kicking Lance’s butt again, but she was perfectly satisfied with beating him at Pancake Dojo 2 whilst enjoying a slice of pepperoni pizza tonight.

****

It was Tuesday morning. Lance had finished his breakfast and was savouring the first sip of coffee. The blissful start was interrupted by the doorbell. He answered the door to find several men with crates.

“Morning, guys,” Lance said as he stepped aside to let the movers in.

After everything was moved into the open space “Evil Lair” area, Lance got to work opening first crate.

“Alright, let’s see what L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. cooked up for me today.”

Lance pulled out a letter from his superior. The latest device was something called the Vapourmatroninator. Apparently, there was a little extra assembly required.

After all the other crates were opened, Lance realised that that by “a little extra assembly”, they meant that this assemble would be bigger than a minivan, yet not a single piece was bigger than the palm of his hand.

“No worries. So long as the instructions are clear, I’ll just work through it piece by piece.”

Not only were the instructions incomprehensible, Lance wasn’t even sure that it was in English. After an hour of failing to make any headway, he picked up his phone.

“Hey Hunk, I need some help with building the latest world conquest machine… I know what I’m doing. It’s these instructions that make no sense...Look, can you come help me without making fun of me?...Alright, but can you still come or not?...Thanks, Hunk. You’re the best.”

****

Pidge kicked open the door to Lance McClain Evil Inc. at 4 p.m. on the dot.

She was ready to get her thwart on when she saw Hunk working on the device. He looked up to see Pidge standing there.

“Katie? What are you doing here?” Hunk asked. “And what are you wearing?”

Before Pidge could answer, Lance walked in.

“Hi Pidge, sorry I’m running a little behind so I had to call in some help.”

“Wait, this is Pidge?” Hunk asked in disbelief.

“Oh right, where are my manners?” Lance said. “Hunk, this is my nemesis Pidge. Pidge, this is my friend Hunk.”

“This is Pidge?” Hunk asked again. “As in the person that thwarts your plans daily.”

“Well, it's more of a Monday to Friday basis, gotta keep that work life balance, but yes. That’s her.” Lance answered “What’s your point?”

“Lance, that’s...argh!”

Hunk was interrupted by Pidge grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.

“Shut up,” Pidge hissed to Hunk. “Play along and I’ll explain everything later.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Pidge! Let him go this instant!” Lance scolded.

Pidge complied.

“Hunk doesn’t work for L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. He's just helping me out as a favour. Do whatever you want with me, but I will not have you attacking my friends!”

Pidge looked genuinely remorseful as Lance took out some money and handed it to her.

“Now you are going to say sorry to Hunk, and then you’re going to go the donut shop and pick up a dozen lemon cream-filled donuts with passionfruit sprinkles. When you get back, he should be done with the Inator and then you can thwart me.”

Pidge complied, sending Hunk one last pleading looking before heading out the door.

“Sorry about that,” Lance said to Hunk. “She honestly isn’t that bad, she’s just a little wound up at times.”

Hunk eyed Lance with utter astonishment.

“And she doesn’t remind you of anyone?” He pressed.

Lance paused thoughtfully.

“Now that you mention it, with that fedora, she kinda looks like Indiana Jones.”

“You think she looks like Indiana Jones?” Hunk asked, clearly not sure how to react.

“Kinda.”

“So when are you next due for an eye exam?”

“Next year, I think. Why?”

“Might want to move that forward.”

****

Pidge arrived with the donuts just as Hunk finished assembling the Inator. She handed them over Hunk he packed up his tools.

“Well, I better be out of your way,” he declared as he headed for the door with tools and donuts in tow.

“Leaving so soon?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, as much fun as it would be to watch you getting thwarted, I’d rather not watch the device I worked so hard on get destroyed.”

“Fair enough, catch ya later.”

Hunk shot Pidge a meaningful glance before leaving.

He hopped in the elevator and waited for the ding signalling the ground floor. Just as he exited the building, the Vapourmatroninator crashed onto the sidewalk, inches from his ears.

He could faintly hear Lance yell, “CURSE YOU, PIDGE THE PALADIN!”

****

A while later, Hunk and Pidge, in her civilian attire, were at Hunk’s favourite sandwich place. Only after he was halfway through his sandwich was he ready to address the elephant in the room.

“Alright, Katie, tell me what the heck is going on.”

“Okay.” Pidge took in a deep breath. “You remember that internship I took with a think tank? Well, that think tank is a secret government agency, and that internship is more of a field agent position.”

“So, who do you work for? The CIA?”

“No, I work for O.W.C.A., the Organisation Without a Cool Acronym.” Pidge watched Hunk raise an eyebrow. “Look, the name isn’t great, but they do good work.”

“And why exactly are you kicking Lance’s butt on a daily basis?”

“When Lance signed on to an employment contract with L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. that marked him as an ‘evil genius’, O.W.C.A. protocol is to assign an agent to be a nemesis to every evil genius. This was my first nemesis assignment, so the higher ups wanted to assign me to something lighter to chew on.”

“And the fact that you and Lance being friends isn’t against policy?”

“It would be if Lance recognised me,” Pidge explained. “I would get reassigned and he would get a new nemesis. I’ve been busting his scheme for nearly a year, and I thank whatever miracle that he still hasn’t worked out that I’m his nemesis.”

“How can he not know? All you do is put on a hat and glasses. You don’t even change your voice!”

“Look, are we really going to debate Lance’s intelligence? He has some strong suits, but he signed on to an evil organisation because their name was L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. And it took three weeks of being friends with him before he realised I was a girl.”

“To be fair, we were 12 at the time, but I see your point,” Hunk conceded. “But why stay as Lance’s nemesis? Franchise or not, you know Lance isn’t evil. Wouldn’t you rather spend your time taking down real bad guys?”

“Three reasons,” Pidge explained. “First, if I don’t do it, O.W.C.A. will send someone else, someone who will actually think he's evil. Second, Lance has been a surprisingly useful asset in undermining L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N.

Any tech that fails with Lance tends to get scrapped, so stopping Lance also prevents some of the actually dangerous tech from being used by actual evil geniuses.”

“And the third?”

“Being Lance’s nemesis means that my work day is usually done by 5 and I get weekends off. Nothing wrong with appreciating a good work/life balance.”

Hunk rolled his eyes at this. “Alright, so what happens now?”

“Well it’s up to you,” Pidge explained. “Standard procedure would be to take you in to have your memory erased.”

Hunk choked on a piece of sandwich. A long sip of his drink helped him to speak again.

“Erase my memory?”

“Just the events of today,” Pidge assured him. “But if you promised to keep this secret under wraps I could conveniently forget the part where you recognised me when I file my report.”

Hunk deliberated for a moment. “Alright, I don’t like keeping this from Lance, but I’m not risking forgetting my great aunt’s banoffee pie recipe over this.”

“Thanks Hunk,” Pidge said gratefully.

“Though if you ask me, the real reason you like this gig is because you get to spend all your time with Lance.” Hunk emphasised his statement with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Pidge glared at Hunk. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Hunk singsonged.

Pidge was about to respond only to let out a cough.

“You alright?”

“It’s nothing,” Pidge replied.

****

Wednesday morning was somewhat easier for Lance. The day’s Inator came in mostly assembled. So now all he had to do was wait for Pidge to arrive.

An hour later still had no Pidge. He was starting to worry. Just then, his phone rang. He answered for only to have his ear fill with the noise of hacking.

“Hey Lance,” Katie said in between coughs. “Sorry I can't make game night.”

“Jeez Katie, you don’t sound good.”

“It’s fine, just gotta rest up and I’ll recover soon.” She let out more coughs.

After hanging up with his friend, Lance felt conflicting emotions swirling in his chest. He really wanted to check on Katie, but he was also meant to be trying to take over the city in time to get thwarted.

It certainly was a dilemma.

****

Allura the Altruist was on her way home from stopping her nemesis when she got a call from Coran.

“Great work, Agent A. Though would you stopping by Lance McClain Evil Inc? Agent P is not feeling well.”

“Right away, Coran.”

Flying her car over to Lance’s evil lair, she parked her car on the roof and dropped elegantly through the sky light, ready to battle. To her surprise, the lair was completely abandoned. She then noticed a large device in plain sight with a note attached.

Dear Pidge,

Sorry I can’t be there. Had to go check on a sick friend. I’ve marked out the self destruct button. See you tomorrow.

Lance McClain

P.S. Curse you, Pidge the Paladin!

Against her better judgement, Allura pressed the marked out button. As she left the ruins of the lair, she couldn’t help but wonder if O.W.C.A should reassess Lance’s threat level.

****

“Here you are, Katie,” Lance said as he carried in a steaming bowl of soup.

“Thank you,” the sick girl wheezed as she took the soup. “You didn’t have to come over to take care of me. Don’t you have work?”

“It's all good,” Lance said dismissively. “I’ve got it covered. Besides, I wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

Katie blushed. If asked, she would claim it was fever.

****

On Thursday, a recovered Pidge arrived at Lance McClain Evil Incorporated, refreshed and ready for a day of thwarting. She flew in through an open window. As she arrived in the lair, she realised Lance wasn’t there.

“Er...hello?”

“Pidge! I’ll be right there,” Lance called out before coughing.

A dishevelled and ill-looking Lance stepped into the lair. He was still in his pyjamas and his lab coat was crooked.

“What a...an unexpected sur…” Lance started coughing again. “Sorry, think I might’ve caught something from my friend.”

Pidge looked at Lance in dismay. “You should be in bed,” she scolded.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lance insisted. “So, behold my… achoo!.... Latest invention the...Something...inator!”

Lance gestured towards a crate that was barely even opened.

“With this I...shall take over the...world.” Lance’s half-hearted speech was shot through with more coughing.

“Lance, seriously, go to bed. I can come back and stop you tomorrow.”

“No, I flaked on you yesterday. I’m not going to do it twice.” Lance raised his fists, staggering slightly as he fought to keep balance. “Thwart me if you dare.”

Rather than fight, Pidge took hold of his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. She pushed him into a chair and silently heated up a can of chicken soup. She plopped the bowl in front of him and said, “Eat.” After making him eat all of it, she hauled him to his bedroom. She took off his lab coat and pushed him into his bed.

“There,” she quipped as she draped a blanket over him. “I’ve thwarted you. Now get some rest.”

“Curse you Pidge the...zzzzz,” Lance was asleep before he was even able to finish his sentence.

Not too long after, Katie arrived to check up on Lance.

****

Friday came as Pidge arrived at the hideout.

“Ah Pidge the Paladin, so nice to see you,” Lance greeted. “Sorry about dropping the ball the last couple of days. Still, I promise to make up for it as I unleash my TRINITY OF TERROR!”

There was a dramatic orchestra and flashes of lightning.

“Head office finally approved your effects budget?” PIdge asked.

“Why yes, thank you for noticing. Anyhoo, behold! The Degravitinator!” Lance held out a handheld, ray-gun-looking device. “Capable of disrupting the personal gravity of its victims. Behold the Plantinator!” He gestured towards a device with a large antenna. “Capable of sending out a pulse that will cause all the plants in the city area to grow at an uncontrollable rate. And finally the DX7J.” He pointed to a large cubic machine. “Capable of...something equally evil, I guess.” He noticed Pidge’s raising eyebrow. “Cut me some slack, not only did I have to finish building yesterday’s device, head office sent me two inators instead of one today. It's a miracle I know what the first two do.”

“And you had time to set up the special effects?”

“Look, are we going to fight or waste time criticizing my workplace priorities?”

Lance jumped back just in time to dodge a right hook from Pidge. He aimed the ray gun at Pidge and fired. Pidge jumped out of the way, narrowing missing the purple ray that shot out. The ray instead hit a nearby couch. It glowed purple as it started to float. Lance continued firing at Pidge. The agent kept ducking until a desk, several crates and a metal barrel were floating.

“Darn it!” Lance muttered. “Why didn’t they put a decent sight on this thing?”

Pidge leapt onto a floating crate, hoping to get high ground. She leapt to another crate to avoid the ray. She finally lunged at Lance with a flying kick. The kick hit Lance squarely in the chest before he could let out another shot. He fell back to the ground and accidentally pulled the trigger.

A purple beam shot out and hit the Plantinator. The Inator started to float in the air. Seeing her opportunity, Pidge kicked with all her might. It flew out the open balcony door. It then came to a rest between the two buildings.

Both Lance and Pidge stared at the floating Inator.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was expecting,” Pidge admitted.

“Well, we can’t leave that out there,” Lance said. “Eventually, the ray will wear off, and it'll fall onto incoming traffic. I already got a citation for what happened with the Vapourmatroninator. I don’t need another.”

“Fair enough, any ideas?”

“Do you have your grappling gun?”

“In shop getting a tune up. You?”

“The winch on mine broke and I’m still waiting for the replacement to arrive. How about your hover car?”

“Came here on the moped today.”

“Fair enough.”

Lance turned a dial on the ray gun and aimed it at the floating Inator. He fired a red ray that vapourised the floating inator.

“That thing has a disintegrator setting?” Pidge asked in shock.

“Yeah, you really think that would be the main feature of this thing.”

“If it could do that, then why were you bothering with the gravity setting?”

“I’m not firing a disintegrator ray in my own lair,” Lance said indignantly.

“That’s surprisingly responsible of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Still got to destroy it.”

“Fair enough,” Lance replied as he turned the ray gun back to gravity mode.

Lance spun round, firing the ray gun at Pidge. Pidge dropped and sweeped out Lance’s legs, causing him fall flat on his back. “Nice move,” Lance said, winded but clearly impressed.

“Thanks.”

Pidge picked up the nearby raygun and smashed it against the handrail. She then started to head back inside to deal with the DX7J only for Lance to snatch her foot, tripping her up.

Lance scurried to place himself between Pidge and the DX7J.

What followed was another fist fight. Lance was holding his own until Pidge hit him with kick to the gut, knocking him backwards.

Lance bumped into the DX7J, turning it on. Sounds of moving parts and sloshing liquid echoed in the machine. Shortly afterwards, there was a loud ding and a small hatch on the device opened to reveal a cup of steaming liquid.

Curious, Lance picked up the cup and sniffed it. He then proceeded to take a sip, much to the panic of Pidge.

“False alarm,” Lance said. “This isn’t an Inator. It’s the coffee machine I ordered.”

“You ordered a coffee machine?”

“Yeah, and not just any coffee machine. This is top of the line, does everything from expressos to cappuccinos.”

“That sounds pricey.”

“I charged it to the head office,” Lance replied. “They’re an evil organisation trying to take over the world - the least they can do is fuel my caffeine addiction.” He proceeded to take another sip from his coffee.

Pidge nodded; she couldn’t really fault the logic.

“Wait, does that mean I already thwarted you?” She questioned.

Lance paused his drinking.

“Huh...I guess so...Oh well. CURSE YOU, PIDGE THE PALADIN!” He hollered before returning to his normal tone. “Do you want a coffee for the road? I’ve got a travel mug I can lend you.”

“Can that machine do a Chai Latte?”

Lance scoffed. “Do you honestly think I would charge my boss top dollar for a coffee machine that couldn’t do Chai Lattes?”

****

“So glad we managed to switch game night,” Lance said as he brought in a bowl of chips.

“I’m just glad neither of us are mucus factories anymore,” Pidge commented.

“I’m just glad I didn’t catch it,” Hunk commented. “So care to explain how all that stuff is floating?”

“Today’s evil invention was an antigravity ray.”

“Antigravity ray?” Hunk repeated in surprise. “How does that work?”

“I aimed the ray gun, pulled the trigger and then whatever got zapped with it would start floating.”

“No, I mean…” Hunk paused as the realisation of who he was talking to struck. “Nevermind.”

“I don’t get what the end game was,” Pidge commented “As cool as it is, I just don’t get how your bosses expected you to take over the world with an antigravity ray.”

“They don’t really look at how so much as they just throw whatever random idea that comes to them at me and wait to see what happens.” Lance explained. “I’m still not sure how I was supposed to take over the world with an iguana cannon.”

“Buddy, you really need to get out of this gig,” Hunk affirmed.

“Would love to, but we all know that’s not going to happen until my contract expires. Besides it's not so bad. I set my own hours, I don’t pay rent on this place and I now have a coffee machine. Speaking of coffee, you guys want one? It's pretty good.”

“I’m good,” Hunk said.

“Chai Latte, please,” Pidge requested absentmindedly.

Lance paused and stared at Pidge suspiciously.

“How do you know it can do Chai Lattes?”

“Would you honestly invest in a coffee machine that couldn’t do Chai Lattes?”

Lance let out a laugh.

“You got me there. One Chai Latte coming up."

As Lance went over to the coffee machine, Hunk turned to Pidge.

“You know, eventually, he is going to figure it out.”

“Agree to disagree,” Pidge replied as she watched Lance come back with her latte.

Lance handed to the latte to her. As she took a sip, Lance spoke.

“So guys, I’ve been wondering. Should I invite Pidge to join us for games night?”

PIdge did a spit take.

“Sorry,” she sputtered. “It’s a little hot.”

Hunk kept his composure.

“You want to invite the person whose job is to kick your butt on a daily basis to games night?”

“Alright firstly, I can hold my own just fine.”

“Have you ever stopped her from destroying your stuff?”

“Well, no, but that’s not the point,” Lance argued. “Neither of us take the whole thwarting thing personally, and she’s the closest thing I have to a work colleague that I actually like.”

“You like her?” Pidge asked, not really sure how to process this.

“Well sure, she’s skilled, self assured, witty and honestly kind of a badass,” Lance replied.

“She also wails on you almost every time you face off,” Hunk added.

“No one’s perfect,” Lance replied. “Come on, what could it hurt to ask her? If she says yes, it will be a chance to get to know her better.”

“If you feel so strongly, I think you should do it,” Pidge replied.

“What?” Hunk said in dismay.

“Great, next time I see her I’ll ask,” He looked down and realised his hands were empty. “Whoops, forgot my coffee.”

As he went to get it, Hunk turned back to Pidge.

“I know this week has been full of shocking revelations, but how do you plan to be two places at once?”

“I won’t have to,” Pidge replied. “I’ll simply say that O.W.C.A. forbids me from fraternising with supervillains outside of work.”

“You know that’s only going to be a temporary fix.”

“It will do for now,” Pidge replied. “I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it.”

“Yup,” Hunk replied. “Keep telling yourself that.”