#and tell them they should be quiet and shut up and not rock the boat by calling it out? are you kidding me?

[tianshiisdead]

tbh, defending against an abuser by making public the slurs they called you and how they told you to your face they hoped your people would be genocided, and then getting your words dismissed as 'fandom drama and cancel culture' and being told you speaking up is 'what makes fandom toxic'... this is why poc online either don't say anything or are driven out of fandom spaces lol

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

”why are you so good at that?”

his caress is gentle. tender, steady, secure; and practiced, you can tell, just from the instant relief you feel — the vivid care in how his fingertips smooth along your skin. 

suguru presses his thumbs into the bridge of your nose, right beneath your forehead, big palms cupping your face. they’re warm, calloused, but still somehow so soft — massaging you gently. the pads of his fingers trail upwards, rubbing soothing little circles against your temples. as if he’s memorized every patch of skin, seen the very inside of your skull. as if he knows exactly where to apply pressure to make the sharp jolts of pain go away. 

and it’s working. the room you’re in is dimly lit, illuminated only by the vermilion rays of the setting sun, bleeding in through the gap between the opened shoji screens. a faint, summery scent accompanies them; like burnt roses, or a salty ocean breeze, not enough to rouse the nausea in your throat. it’s quiet. all you can hear is the soft humming of your lover, and your own relieved breaths, pulled out by his skillful hands. his pointer fingers pinch between your brows, and another one follows. the sweetest little sigh. 

”am i?” his voice is soft, even more so than usual, as if the slightest noise could disrupt your peace. a smile is knit between the vowels. ”i’m glad.”

he sounds a little tired. it’s been a long day for both of you, so it’s no surprise. when you finally got back home, the inside of your skull was tormented by a persistent ache, and suguru was blinking with fatigue — though he still insisted on doing this. lying you down on his lap, like a fragile doll, crossing his legs to give you enough space to rest comfortably; the back of your head finding respite on his thigh, senses enveloped by the silk of his robes, smelling lightly of cherry blossoms and sandalwood. comfy.

and, after only a couple minutes of his loving treatment, the ache began to dull. sweet relief seeping into your nerves.

he reminds you to take deep breaths, watching intently as the contours of your face fall back into a state of tranquility. whenever he shifts, the tatami mats beneath him rustle, and your muddled mind sways like the rocking of a boat; slight, but still enough to coax a wince from out your throat, a tiny spark of pain blooming between your sinuses, followed by a murmured apology from the man above you. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. you hear it, eyes still shut, waiting for him to answer your question. and he does, of course — so weak to you, always, your voice the key to his locked-up heart.

”back in high school…” he starts, diligently continuing the facial massage, comforting circles rubbed into your skin. ”... my best friend got migraines often.” 

a soft groan slips from out your parted lips, when he pushes against a certain spot — locating the pressure points like brushing specks of dust from off his clothing. effortless. 

”ah,” you click your tongue, melting into his touch. turning into a boneless puddle, cradled in his lap, comfy as can be. ”your mysterious bestie, huh?”

it’s not the first you’ve heard of this best friend. suguru’s mentioned him before, though only in passing, in whispers, comments he hopes will sound absentminded. they never do — because suguru says the word friend like it’s a prayer. 

(that explains it, though. no wonder it feels so good; it is practiced. should you feel jealous?

well, maybe. but you mostly think it’s kind of sweet.)

before you can think of what you’re saying, the words have left your lips. they tumble out like little pizzicato drops, spoken casually, matter-of-factly. a tiny chirp of a thing.

”you must have loved him a lot.”

…

silence.

for just a moment, the thumbs pressing against your skin halt — just for a second, but enough to notice, and suddenly you feel a little like the air has been sucked out of the room.

even with your eyes closed, you know suguru’s smile is nowhere to be seen. 

it’s funny, how well you’ve come to know him. how you’ve learned to memorize every expression you’ve ever seen him make, any signs of distress or discomfort. he does this thing with his eyes, sometimes — a thin kind of concealment, when you shuffle a little too close for his comfort. figuratively speaking, because you’re almost certain he’d let you crawl under his skin if you asked. but sometimes you twist the key to his heart a little too abruptly, and his eyes of gold and ochre shift in the light, honey clogging the interior of his cornea. something sickly-sweet. something he’s kept locked up for a long time.

a nostalgia so palpable it breaks your heart just to look at it.

you don’t want to open your eyes. you don’t want to see the kind of face he’s making right now. you don’t want to know if he’s pursing his lips, or furrowing his brows, just because of your carelessly chosen words — you know his old best friend is a sensitive subject. gosh, you’re stupid. 

stupid, stupid, stupid.

(why can’t you ever just read the room?)

blindly, you stumble for something to say, parting your lips. desperate to change the topic, to save him from this suffocating silence.

— but then suguru breaks it.

”yeah.”

when your eyes flutter open, he’s looking out into the garden. watching the sun, as it sinks beneath the mountains, lips curved up into a small smile.

”i suppose i did.”

…

you take a moment to look at him. the bridge of his nose, the firm lines of his jaw — the slightest tremble of the muscle. and those eyes, set afire by the final rays of the setting sun, burned to ash. filled with… something. not regret.

just longing.

suddenly, the pads of his fingers are dancing along your skin again; gliding down to pinch your nose. it makes you yelp, a tiny squeak.

and then he’s looking at you. 

”but i love you more,” he croons, a little tilt of his head that make his bangs move like a black curtain. eyes swirling with humour, something syrupy and teasing, awfully fond. ”my little dove.”

before you know it, your cheeks are blossoming with warmth; the branches of your lips curling up into a shy smile. his attention is a little too much to bear, so you wriggle out of his grasp — turning around to press your face into his stomach. his sleeves cast a curtain around you, a protective veil, but it’s not long until you’re being coaxed back into your original position.

”ah ah,” he tuts, chiding you lovingly; a coo in the back of his throat. ”none of that. let me take care of you.”

all you can do is groan, meekly, squeezing your eyes shut. suguru only chuckles, cupping your cheeks and continuing to apply pressure on your forehead and nose, large warm palms against your chilled skin — unwilling to let you escape his pampering.

the sun sets eventually. but he keeps you on his lap until the headache has faded entirely, until your eyelids have dragged you into a deep slumber, until tiny snores are seeping from your parted lips. until the moon has pulled itself into the night sky above you.

somehow, even on the brink of exhaustion, you manage to feel his warm lips against your forehead; hear the muffled murmur against your skin.

”sweet dreams, my darling,” comes a whisper, deep and silky, coaxing you further into the cradle of sleep. his thumb smooths along your cheekbone, down to the curve of your jaw — a trail of warmth. ”come back to me soon, won’t you?”

he smiles. you feel it, that soft upward curve, a blissed out sensation drowning you in white noise. the space inside your mind is free of pain, filled only with thoughts of him, the lines of his fingers burning patterns into your skin. one final kiss pressed between your brows, and then he’s pulling away; curling his arms under your knees and hoisting you up. into his steady arms, his robes shielding you from the soft glow of the stars.

”… don’t dawdle in dreamland for too long.”

the whisper goes unheard. fast asleep, suguru can only gaze at you, drinking in the serenity on your features. trying not to remember a boy with blue eyes — the similar expression he wore once his migraines had begun to fade.

he shakes his head, and carries you towards the bedroom. safe and sound in his embrace.

[dollypopup]

Today I'm thinking about how so much of Colin's narrative speaks to the neurodivergent experience of having to pretend to be someone else as a survival mechanism. Of the pressure in masking because your real, authentic self is rejected or ignored: too weird, too quiet, too loud, too gullible, too soft-heart, too. . .everything. Too anything. And at the same time, not enough.

Colin gets excited about his travels, about his hyperfixations, talks and talks and talks about them, and no one cares. So, Colin shuts up. Colin writes letter after letter, and gets no reply. So, Colin writes in a journal just for himself. Colin tries and tries to make his family proud, tries to marry, tries courting properly, and it blows up in his face. So, Colin chooses not to date, to become a spectator. Colin is yelled at for trying to invest, so he no longer asks or talks about money, doesn't try to rock the boat in his city. Who Colin is, what he wants, ceases to matter, the fabric of him folded smaller and smaller- instead he focuses on the shell. Builds it in image of his older brothers, of the men around him. Mirrors them.

Anthony says he should have taken Colin to brothels, that he's a fool for trying to marry and his engagement blows up- Colin thus goes to brothels. Colin hops from city to city, trying on new personas like outfits, fine tuning each one. Is this it? Will this be what finally makes them accept me? Colin's appeal to the women of the ton is that he does not talk about himself- but about them. That they're wearing beautiful dresses, that surely they'll find husbands. Separating himself from them- cannot tell them of his travels, that he's not the brave one, it was everyone working together to help with the balloon.

Deflect. Never centered. Colin exists on the outskirts as Pen does, he's just hypervisible for his exterior, and invisible otherwise. His charm is that he pleases those around him. His wounds are that the truest version of him cannot accomplish that. Thus, he becomes hyperaware of what his impact is, first to apologize and last to be forgiven. Living for the approval of others is a trap. He knows. He's fallen into it, a bear claw around his ankles.

He feels like the only way he's worthwhile is if he's providing something for someone. An apology, or comfort, or ease, compliments or winks, a laugh or a distraction, good looks or a fantasy. Providing a happy life for Pen by stepping out of the way, his own needs secondary. It's being there for his mum for an escort or a soft heart to heart. It's taking Anthony's disappointment in him and being indulgent to Eloise's insults. It's giving Benedict his special tea and saying hardly anything about why he bought it in the first place. Bringing gifts to family members who did not write back to him as he wandered the world, alone. It's sticking his neck out for Penelope with Jack, it's providing a dance or a rescue or a good time, checking on Marina to make sure she's alive and okay, listening to Phillip. Colin isn't at all comfortable being himself, the himself that is messy, so he covers it in the himself that is useful.

But what he does, what he provides other people, is not his actual worth. He thinks he's being altruistic by stepping aside and languishing in his feelings for Pen, believing she'll be happier in the future with Debling, waiting and waiting and waiting, until that candle burns out and he's at the 11th hour- and when he snaps and goes after her, when he cuts into her dance, when he runs for her in that carriage, he makes a choice for himself that he thinks, in some way, is selfish.

But it isn't. It's what she wants, too. And there's something beautiful in the fact that with Penelope, his being real, what he thinks is so difficult and unwanted, is actually giving her what she has desired all along. They both find fulfillment and contentment in his unmasking. Penelope never wanted the shell. She saw what was beneath it. She loves what's beneath it.

And I think there's something. . .healing, in that narrative. That us ND peeps who mask as a means of fitting in- that will never bring us happiness. Not really. That it didn't bring Colin happiness.

His arc is realizing that he should be his true, authentic self, and that love will bloom from it. And it does.

I don't know. I think I can learn something from that. I think I'm going to carry that with me for a while.

[the-weirdos-mind]

Yo Ho A Pirates Life For Me: A Twisted Wonderland Event

@adrianasunderworld it is done! (And if you wanna add WAI POV for this go on ahead 😄. I’d love to see them.) Please note that this is a fanmade event with my school Black Pearl College and its people.

An event like no other. Set sail with limited time twistunes and battles as you fight for first place.

Summary:

It’s that time of year again for BPC. The Kraken strikes again! A three day event filled with physical activity and sea themed games. Only those who are suited for the sea can participate but this year, something else happens. Other schools are allowed to attend and NRC receive an invitation to participate! Only things aren’t quite what they seem and something dark is brewing beneath the waves…

Concept:

The Kraken is a three day event in BPC where students shine at pirate skills. Each day is dedicated to a different skill.

Day One: Navigation; Sailing the seas is risky enough with natural dangers like storms and sea monsters, however getting lost in sea can pose the risk of death if your navigation skills are bad. A maze is magically constructed from rocks in a nearby area and a race is on for whoever can finish first. Each ship elects a captain and they get a map of the maze. You may encounter the other teams ships and have to battle each other to get by. If your boat sinks, or if you crash, you’re out. Whoever exits first wins.

Day Two: Swordsmanship; A pirate should never be far from a trusty blade. Anyone who knows their salt’s worth knows that going on without a weapon can end badly for you. The arena is deep within the jungle of the island and it’s participants are faced off against each other. The area within the arena can magically change within an instant. You could be standing on the jungle floor, then on top of a loose, runaway wheel to an exploding island. Four participants of each school stand in the center and square off against each other. If you knock your opponent out of the ring, they’re out. The last one standing wins. The event must end before sundown and everyone must be back at campus before the moon rises.

Day Three: Swimming; Another important skill that anyone should know. It could come in handy to escape cannon fire or a predator. The event is hold on the bay on the east side of the island. Participants stand on the planks and dive into the sea once the starting pistol is fired. However some obstacles are present. The tide may get stronger or the merpeople students may hide in the water and grab onto the swimmers ankles/tails. It may take time to pry them off and you may use anything around you to trick them into grabbing it and getting free. Whoever reaches the shore first wins.

It all starts when Crowley calls an assembly. Everyone there wonders what is going on until Crowley breaks the news; NRC has been invited to attend the Kraken! A collective gasp is heard throughout the room and everyone whispers about it. Yuu and Grim question on what the Kraken is and why they’re going to a famed sea monster. Its not until Crewel shuts everyone up with his whip and tells the student body to be quiet. Crowley hands the floor to Vargas to explain the Kraken.

Vargas explains that it’s a three day physical event held at Black Pearl Collage. Another wave of whispers and mutters starts hearing the name of the school. Grim asks what BPC is. Ace and Deuce then explain that BPC is pirate style mage school and that it’s hidden from every map. Yuu questions on why this school is hidden and Azul answers them. He explains that it once was on the map but the magical artifact, the Captain’s Organ, mysteriously vanished one night and its location was erased from the maps. Jade and Floyd pop into the conversation by adding that there’s a map the school has for them to locate the campus and that there’s something lurking in the jungle. Grim asks what could be lurking but is interrupted by Crewel’s whip sounding throughout the room again. He silences the noisy room of students and Vargas continues. He explains that he would be chaperoning the participants and reads off the list of people that are selected for the event.

Day One Participants: Riddle, Ruggie, Sebek, Jack, Cater, Rook, Malleus and Leona

Day Two Participants: Silver, Lilia, Jamil, and Vil

Day Three Participants: Jade, Yuu, Ace, Deuce and Epel

He also ask for any volunteers to help out behind the scenes. The school also accepts help from the other schools that participate to help keep everything going smoothly.

The Volunteers: Azul, Floyd, Kalim, Idia, Trey, and Ortho

He writes down the volunteer names and tells everyone to meet at the school’s gates bright and early the next morning. As everyone heads out, Yuu and Grim catch the Octotrio and ask them how they know about BPC. They explain that they heard of it from stories and never thought it was real. Grim then proceedes to ask what could be lurking in the jungle and Idia chimes into the conversation. He explains that there’s skeleton pirates said to be roaming the jungle at night and he only volunteered just so he could get a glimpse of them. Grim gulps in fear. He says he’s not going but Yuu tells him he is or else he would destroy the school (what he doesn’t know is Vargas wrote him on the volunteer list)

The next morning, everyone meets at the front gates with their bags packed. Vargas instructs everyone to load up onto the bus that the town had sent. Ace asks where they’re going and Vargas responds with the port. He explains that BPC has sent out a ship for them to sail on for them. He adds that some students of the host school will be there. Deuce asks how they’re able to get back to the school and Lilia explains that a special map was crafted exclusively for the school to use. He adds on that the school is afraid of word getting out about it or else they would lose it. They arrive to the port and unload. A few minutes later they see a dark dot in the distance. The dot gets larger and a black pirate ship pulls up to the port. Someone on board tosses a rope out and Vargas ties it up.

The gangplank is lowered and the BPC gang walks out. Natalie greets them and asks if they’re the NRC participants. Vargas confirms their identity and before anyone could step aboard, Silas speaks. He says he’s not letting anyone board the ship unless they prove themselves to be worthy of their vessel. Dylan asks if it’s necessary for them to do that but his answer comes in the form of two more students running down the gangplank. They stand behind Silas and Leona smirks, saying that it’s cute that these aquarium fish can challenge them. Floyd chimes in, glad to give a squeeze. Sebek says he won’t let anyone disrespect Malleus in his presence. (Battle here)

The fight ends with the NRC students being victorious. Sam asks if accepting fights is common at NRC to which Yuu replies that it is. Silas groans and says nothing else about them boarding. Once everyone boards Asher kindly tells them to place their items into the hold and get back to the deck. Once that’s done, Natalie starts giving out jobs for everyone. Ace gets upset and asks why they’re being assigned to work. Lo pops in with an answer that no one understands until Dylan translates it to the gist. Since there’s more people on board then everyone needs to pitch in. Lo walks away mumbling something about a garden party. The rope is untied and they set off. A few minutes out at sea and Grim is pretty much attached to the side, feeling seasick. Yuu does their best to comfort him while Lo pops in with unnecessary advice. Grim wonders how long the trip will take and then proceeds to vomit. (Twistune here)

At dusk is when the arrive to the island. Everyone looks at the desolate landscape in awe and fear. The BPC gang isn’t fazed by the sight of the abandoned town. They sail by the abandoned town and come across a massive ship. Asher lets out a call as the anchor drops and they stop next to the ship. A small gangplank is dropped from the other side and a student on their ship grabs it and steadies it. Natalie tells them to cross over and not to work about their stuff as they’re already getting on there. Sebek yells at them for tossing Malleus’s luggage without care and piling it up with the others. One by one they all cross and meet Doveenstien and Skye. The BPC headmage greets them and welcomes them on board. Vil asks why they couldn’t dock on the old port. Doveenstien explains that the wood may break from the weight of so many people and it was safer to be on board. He explains their school’s history and even shows them the statue of the Phantom Captain. He stresses the fact that they cannot step off board in the night as there’s something that could get them. He lets the assistant headmage lead them to their quarters while he stays behind and collects the map from his daughter. Natalie asks why he couldn’t say the truth but he claims it would be better if they didn’t know.

Skye takes them to a berth that’s big enough to hold them. She tells them to make themselves comfortable and dinner will be ready in half an hour before taking her leave. As they unpack they all talk and wonder if the skeleton pirates are true. Vil brushes off the claims of them being true and says that they don’t exist. Epel asks him if he’s even afraid to which the housewarden says that he only believes what he knows is true. At dinner they all get the surprise of an eyeball floating to the top of the stew. A majority of them freak out until they here laughter from the kitchen. Sam explains that the head cook pulls this prank all the time and not to worry. He tells them that they’re edible and cuts his open to show them the inside. Grim doesn’t hesitate to eat it and says that it’s delicious. When they get back to their berth, Vargas hands out their uniforms for the event. The outfits are pirate like, coming with a sword and pistol with the color scheme being their dorm colors. They even have a bandanna with their school’s logo on it.

That night after everyone goes to bed, the first years wake up hearing something move through the water. They quietly leave the bearth and head to the deck. They’re amazed by the fog surrounding the ship and hear faint whispers from the side. They peak around the corner seeing Natalie, Lo, Dylan, Sam and Asher whispering among each other. The group is debating on whether or not to tell their guests the truth. Jack speaks up, asking them what they’re hiding. The jump seeing the first years and play it off as nothing. Natalie tells them to get back to bed before her father sees them. Sebek, Ace, and Duece try to get them to reveal the truth but almost get caught hearing the assistant headmage’s voice. The first years quickly scatter while the BPC crew sighs in relief. Lo remarks how close that was while Dylan says it’s best for them not to know the truth.

The next morning the first event kicks off. The participants for the first event are gathered around as Doveenstien and Skye explain the rules. When it comes time to vote for their captain, Riddle gets the role. Skye hands him a map for the obstacle course and tells them to get to their ship. Ruggie asks if they’re able to handle everything about managing a ship when Doveenstien reveals that the chores they did on their way there, were in fact practice and there would be a short manual on board for them to look at if there’s something they need to do but don’t know how to do it. As they get on board, everyone else takes their seats and the volunteers are making sure everything is ready. Grim is complaining about being on volunteer duty while Kalim tries to charge his mind on it. Isla stands on a small stage and greets everyone, and gives the rundown for everyone else. Before anything gets underway, she has her students sing their alamanta. Once that’s done, she waves the handkerchief and the race is on. (Twistune here)

NRC encounters the ship from RSA. Before the other school can do anything, a cannonball is fired from NRC’s ship. Riddle decided to declare a fight because they’re not losing to RSA. (Battle here). They end up victorious and sail on. They encounter the ship from BPC and they fire, even swinging over to their ship. (Battle here). As they fight they hear scrapping from the side. Everyone looks to the side a skeletal hand grabbing the side. They all stare in shock and horror as a skeleton pirate pulls itself on deck. The BPC students yell out in horror and get back to their ship. The audience just stares in horror that the rumor is true. The pirate starts swinging its sword at the NRC students while letting out demonic screeches. They know that if they need to survive, then they must fight. (Battle here). It all ends when Leona grabs it by its arm and uses his signature spell. The pirate is nothing more than a pile of sand. They lost with BPC taking the trophy. Doveenstien gathers all the staff, both visiting and not, to discuss matters.

That night in their birth they all discuss what happened during the race. Vargas comes into the room and relays to them what happened. If another incident shows up then they’ll choice but to cancel it. An argument brews over what to do to prevent it from being cancelled. For NRC, it’s a chance to beat RSA. Malleus says that he felt a surge of magic when it appeared. Leona agrees with him, though he hates doing that. Rook suggests that he goes out and scouts the island, if whoever summoned it is here then they’ll be nearby. Idia comments on how suicidal it is to go alone. Against his better judgment, he says he’ll go along with him. Orthro, the Octotrio, and Yuu also agree to go.

That night they secretly left and ship and the Octotrio carry most of them, (Idia rode on his brother’s back) to shore. They venture into the jungle and found that some of the foliage is cut down and stomped on. Rook says it must’ve been someone living as no creature or skeleton pirate could make this mess. They venture further an a swarm of them appears out of no where and circles the group. They try to fight them off but aren’t strong enough. Before Yuu could get stabbed by one of them, Asher appears out of nowhere and uses his sword to block the blow. The rest of the BPC gang shows up. (Battle Here) They help them weaken them until they run away. Natalie tells them that they were stupid for coming out.

Azul points out that it was wrong of them to keep it secret and to almost let their schoolmates get killed. An argument brews until they hear a screech getting closer. They get running for the shore and use the rowboat they brought to get back. They gather in NRC’s bearth and explain the skeleton pirates history. 200 years ago, the night when the Captain’s Organ went missing was when they first showed up. The town was a lively community until the pirates wiped them clean off the face of the earth. Everytime settlers came and tried to make the town lively again, they were killed that very night. Sam says that they believe that returning the Captain’s Organ is the key to getting rid of them. Lo adds that the skeleton pirates are the Curse of the Organ. Take it away from its rightful place and you’ll be hunted for eternity. Natalie says its best for them to get to bed because they need to be up early.

An hour before sunrise is when Vargas woke them up. Everyone was gathered at the main deck and loaded onto the rowboats. They went to shore and started a trek through the jungle. (Twistune here). Along the way, Grim got sidetracked by something in the brush. Before he could go investigate it, Yuu tells him to move along. Soon they arrive at an old arena. The participants for the second event go through a side door while everyone else goes through the normal doors. Once they sit down Isla goes over the rules and gives the rundown. She blows a horn and the participants draw their swords. (Twistune here).

The area within the arena changes randomly as they all fight. During the event, Sebek, Jack, Rook, Jade and Floyd go with Lo and Sam to keep an eye out for trouble. They find nothing as the final round starts. The last two standing are Lilia and Dylan. The two throw taunts at each other before the human charges at fae. (Twistune Here). Lilia ends up winning the fight. Everyone is unaware that there was a dark figure lurking in the jungle. It mumbles something about it being pathetic that there were other schools around. It adds that it will get rid of everyone else before disappearing from view. Once the trophy is given to Lilia, Doveenstien orders for them to leave and get back to the campus.

The final day of the event is when everything comes to a hand. During the night the school sailed to the bay where the last event is held. Once again, Isla gives the rundown and rules of the event. Once she fires the starter pistol, everyone dives into the water. As Yuu swims through the crystal clear water, they feel something grab ahold of their ankle. They look down to see a skeleton pirate holding on tightly. A lot of people start screaming as some participants are pulled under water, even Yuu. Floyd comes barreling out of no where and remarks what a grave mistake it is to mess with Yuu. He doesn’t say Shrimpy. (Battle Here)

Floyd tells them to get to safety as he handles the anglerfish. The moment Yuu surfaces, they see a figure running into the jungle. They swim to shore and head off after the figure with the rest of the NRC participants and volunteers running off too. The BPC gang see this too and follow them. Deep in the jungle they find Silas with an angered look on his face. He yells at Natalie for not persuading her father to stop him from letting everyone else enter the event, a time honored tradition only for their school. He says he has no choice now but to rid of the intruders. He activates his signature spell, A Captain’s Noble Crew, that makes more skeleton pirates come from the jungle. He cackles at them being under his control and orders them to attack. (Battle Here)

As the rest of them fight the skeleton pirates, Lo sneaks around and takes Silas head on. He tells him that he’s the true disgrace to the school for harming their guests. To get him get him to stop he calls Parley but the other male laughs in his face. He tells Lo, he always knew he was insane. The two engage in a duel. (Battle Here)

Lo defeats Silas and ties his hands behind his back. He orders him to call off the crew and Silas knew he had no choice. Once he orders them to stop the skeleton pirates drop to bits on the jungle floor. They all take him back to the bay and tell Doveenstien and Skye everything that went on. Doveenstien thanks them for stopping Silas and tells the said male, he will discuss this later. Though they lost the event, they were all glad that the problem was dealt with for now.

The next day NRC leaves BPC and heads home, celebrating their own victory on board. (Twistune Here)

[absolutely-esme]

Hey, who wants more angst? I had some ideas.

What if she wasn’t as purely attention-seeking as people thought?  Suppose she was a metahuman in the early days when the phenomenon wasn’t well understood. 

Maybe Ember Mclain had an ability that allowed her to amplify sound.  The early manifestations weren’t so extreme that it was immediately obvious something supernatural was happening.  Because her power wasn’t incredibly conspicuous, neither Ember nor the people around her realized she had a superpower.

Ember didn’t have great control over her power because she didn’t realize she had a power to learn how to control.  It would activate and deactivate without conscious intent and without her knowledge.  Sometimes it would reflexively deactivate after being called out, but not always.

This tended to make it look like she was very deliberately being loud when, as far as she knew, she genuinely wasn’t doing anything different that should have resulted in the door creaking so loudly this time. 

Don’t get me wrong; Ember did genuinely want attention and try to get it (because humans have social needs and hers weren't being met), but she wasn’t being as obnoxious or constant about it as people seemed to think.

Ember Mclain grew up always being told that she was too loud.  Her talking was too loud.  Her footsteps were too loud.  Her laughter was too loud.  Her music was too loud.  Her coughs and sneezes and breathing were too loud.  Despite that, she always seemed to be going unheard.  It felt like everyone around her was trying to make her shut up and hide so they could continue on without the inconvenience of her existence.

The first time she discovered that being loud could be a good thing, she was walking home after school with some other girls who lived in the same neighborhood. 

They were attacked in an area that didn’t have many people out and about at that time of day.  It probably would have ended very badly if Ember hadn’t managed to make enough of a racket that people came from the next block over to investigate the source of the noise (and possibly tell whoever was making it to keep it down).  When more people came into the area, the attacker bolted.

One of the other girls told Ember that she was glad Ember had been there.

The experience stuck with her.

Ember couldn’t quite forget the terror of being under attack out of sight and out of mind, certain she was going to quietly become one more drop in an ocean of statistics without anyone noticing or caring.  She also couldn’t forget how it felt to hear that quiet admission that someone was grateful to have had noisy, obnoxious Ember Mclain with them.

Prima Donna was born from a tumultuous mix of fear, euphoria, protectiveness, and desire for acknowledgment.

The getup was about what you’d expect from an angsty teen growing up in the less nice part of Gotham.  It was very edgy.  Mostly black with skull motifs and a big, chunky belt.  It utilized the one-shoulder crop top and huge skull boots she’d bought at a thrift store ages ago but never been brave enough to wear as herself. 

She put on ashen-gray face paint and then covered it with the kind of bold punk-emo-goth-whatever makeup she was too self-conscious to wear in day to day life in hopes it made her look different enough that no one would recognize her if she also acted different.

It turns out, acting different in costume was easier than Ember had thought.  Honestly, she’d needed a break from being Ember Mclain. 

Ember was scared, uncertain, and painfully self-conscious.  Ember wanted to be heard but hated being snapped at for being too loud (always too loud).  She wanted to stand out (to be noticed, to matter), but she was terrified of the potential consequences of rocking the boat.

Prima, on the other hand, was unapologetically loud, proud, and in your face.  Prima was the scourge of every jackass who relied on going unnoticed to get away with hurting people.  She didn’t care if people were annoyed with her tromping around noisily in big, clunky boots.  She was here to do something way more important than avoid interrupting your peace and quiet, Gladys.

So Prima patrolled her little patch of Gotham, providing distractions that allowed victims to slip away and chasing off muggers and other shady types who didn’t want people paying too much attention to them.  A lot would just run if someone started playing the kind of loud music that would have people coming out to yell at them about it, but she handled herself well enough even when it took a little more than that.

Ember spent hours in a rundown little gym punching and kicking a heavy bag and doing her absolute best to make sure she could.  Every spare moment she could get went into either going out as Prima or preparing to.  It wasn’t hard, given how few people had any interest in spending more time dealing with Ember than necessary.

Prima might not have been the most respected in the hero community or the most loved by the general public, but she had a small and devoted community of people who were grateful for her help.

You see, Prima may not have been on Batman’s level, but she was reliably available in the areas she operated in and she never looked the other way when someone needed her, even if she was tired and heading home for the night. 

Prima was the sort who was always up for walking you places when you had to be out late or doing wellness checks.  She’d even help kids with homework, teach someone how to play a few chords, or even just providing a listening ear (and maybe some advice) whenever there wasn’t someone in immediate need of rescue. 

She’d also just play music sometimes, and sometimes that’s what people need.

As much of a nuisance as Prima could be when you just wanted a quiet evening, you knew you were safe with her.

Prima had a sort of warmth and tenderness toward everyone not actively doing harm layered under the boisterous attitude.

Ember found fulfillment in every interaction she had as Prima.  Every nervous young woman who gratefully accepted an escort home after dark.  Every wary, hyper-vigilant child in ill-fitting clothes who gradually came to feel safe with her.  Even the curses spat by fleeing thugs who didn’t want anyone looking at them too closely were satisfying in their own way.

She finally got some affirmation, and she felt like she was doing actual good, too.

She even managed to start getting a handle on her power (even if she didn’t fully understand what was going on there). 

Ember gradually got more control over how loud she was or wasn’t.  She could make her footsteps quiet, when she wanted or needed to.  She even developed a knack for using sound with more precision.  She didn’t fully understand the physics of how she could leave an assailant stunned and temporarily deafened without hurting the ears of the victim, but having the practical skill was good enough, right?

Prima might never be a big name like Batman, but she was so happy with what she already had.

Then, Prima stumbled across something more than she could handle. 

This brings me to my next what if:

What if she wasn’t asking for advice/training?  What if she’d stumbled across something her skillset wasn’t sufficient for and was trying to ask for help?

Despite her best efforts to keep the little gaggle of kids who looked up to her safe, Prima couldn’t be around all the time.  A couple of them got snatched up while she was at school.

Prima managed to track down the derelict factory they’d been taken to, but they weren’t the only victims, and she didn’t have the stealth skills that would have probably been ideal for safely extracting so many people, so she tried to get Batman’s help. 

Unfortunately, Prima only managed to find Batman when he was in the middle of doing something urgent and time-sensitive.

Batman was busy with life or death matters and didn’t expect Prima to have anything important to say, so he kept brushing her off and disappearing without letting her speak (and getting more annoyed and less willing to listen each time).  She kept trying for as long as she could afford to, but she’d heard one of the creeps talk about moving the “merchandise” at the end of the month.

After two weeks of failing to convey the information to Batman, Prima had to figure out how to handle this one herself.

Though she had more control over her volume than she once did, Prima Dona still wasn’t a stealth hero.  She probably couldn’t sneak in and take down all the guards without being noticed. 

She might, however, be able to get enough people loose to start freeing the others (if she could find some of the type that were calm in emergencies) and then keep the thugs occupied long enough for people to get away, if she wasn’t too particular about what happened to her or the thugs she was fighting. 

It would be a long, intense fight.  The old building wasn’t up to code, and didn’t have as many exits as it should, so it would take a while for a large number of people to get out.

In the little time she had left to prepare, Prima managed to acquire some stimulant/pain-relief combos that were probably not legal or healthy but which she hoped would keep her on her feet and fighting for as long as she needed to.

The time came and Prima entered the building.

Good news, most of the victims were just being kept in rooms that locked and unlocked with a little lever on the handle, so they were easy to open from the outside (though Prima still handed off a set of bolt-cutters and other tools to someone willing to stay and help, just in case).

More good news! She managed to get a good number of people loose before the alarm was sounded.

Bad news! Most of these thugs were bigger than her and not inclined to run from notice in their own evil lair, and there are a lot of them.

Good news!  Her precision skills with sound were good enough to blow out the ear drums of a thug who tried to grab someone to use as a hostage without hurting the person they were going after.

Bad news!  One of the thugs managed to grab a hold of her while she was doing that and she barely managed to extricate herself even with lethal force.

Good news! It was a lot easier to keep all the bad guys’ focus on her after she killed one of them.

Bad news!  They are pissed.

Good news!  The probably illegal stimulant/painreliever in a jerry-rigged epipen worked and she was able to keep fighting long enough for all the victims to get out (as far as she could tell).

Bad news! That shit is temporary and comes with a hell of a crash, and just being outside didn’t mean people were safe yet.

Good news!  Prima had a plan for that. 

Bad news! The plan kind of sucks, and she was hoping she wouldn't have to use it.

When she felt herself start flagging, Prima used a massive amplified power chord to shatter every bit of glass in the building, including the light bulbs and the bottles of gasoline she’d managed to strategically hide around the building (and especially around the exits) before the fighting started.  After that, she only had to keep the traffickers in the building long enough for the fumes to reach the arcing exposed wires.

Prima Donna went out in a blaze of glory.  Most of the world would never know, but the people she saved that day would never forget.  Neither would their families.  Neither would the small community that would have to figure out how to go on without her.  Going forward, that neighborhood would always feel just a little too quiet.

Most of the bodies found in the burned warehouse had to be identified by their dental records.  One body, seemingly that of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties, could not be identified due to injuries sustained rendering her dentition useless for identification purposes.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Gotham, Ember Mclain was declared a missing person.  No leads were found, and eventually she was presumed dead.  With how few connections she had, her disappearance left barely a ripple in day-to-day life.  Ember Mclain faded from the world with barely a whisper.

…

One of the younger boys from the group of kids who looked up to Prima was the only one who knew she was going to try and get Batman’s help.  After learning what happened at the warehouse (and that there was a distinct lack of Batman’s involvement) from one of the kids who was there, the little boy decided he would never trust an adult again. 

He never did.

He perished a couple of years later.  Even as a ghost, Youngblood still refuses to let an adult so much as see him.  The one exception is Ember, who he will always trust whether she counts herself as an adult or not.

Dcxdp prompt

Ember Mclain when she was alive, was a vigilante in Gotham city working side by side with the dynamic duo. Not that she was particularly well liked by them, or the larger hero community on a whole. Just ask any other hero and they'll say that Prima, Ember's hero name, was too attention seeking, unwilling to seek to anyone else, always trying to be the center of attention, and always ruining missions with her need for attention. Needless to say Ember rubbed a lot of heroes the wrong way, especially seeing as that this was early into Bruce taken on Dick Grayson as a ward so none of the heroes really knew how to deal with a teenage vigilante like Ember.

When she had died on a butched mission in a fire the hero community was shocked but not surprised. They kept telling her if she doesn't stop doing things how she normally does something like this would happen. Soon everyone moved on like if a vigilante known as Prima never existed, only slightly traumatized by the death of a child hero.

Now years later while investigating a heavily guarded lab owned by a shady part of the Government known as The Ghost Investigation Ward / the Guys In White the Justice League come across a teenager who liked exactly like Prima dressed up for a show with flaming blue hair and a pink guitar like the one Prima used to own helping a group of teenagers, two adults wearing hazmat suits, and what liked to be metas older teenagers / young adults on a motorcycle in the middle of breaking out a trio of teens and a group of meta verging in ages. The Prima look a like also seemed to be comforting a child none of them could see expect for her, the teens, and the metas.

[getbacktowriting]

when are we gonna talk about the fact that being white does not erase the fact that I am nonbinary & intersex, as well as disabled? That I do not have the same experiences or privileges as an abled cis man?

I don’t want to be the oppression points tumblr guy but jfc. I feel so erased. Unheard. Some part of me isn’t even sure what I want to tell, what it is that I’m so desperate to shout from the rooftops. Maybe I’m just sick of being shut down. Maybe I’m exhausted from keeping everything in all the time, maybe I’m tired of being afraid to express myself. Any hint of emotion, especially anger, as someone who is male-presenting, makes me the bad guy. Any time I speak up against someone who has held me down, manipulated me, forced me to walk on eggshells, I’m the bad guy. Because I’m a man. All my life I’ve learned to keep quiet. To be a doormat, to let everyone walk over me so I don’t rock the boat. All my life I’ve taught myself how to bottle it up, dismiss it, hold my tongue when I’m being ridiculed.

I don’t know how much longer I can hold everything in, but where can I possibly outlet any of these feelings? I am not the type to believe men should lack emotion and be “strong” and permanently cold and stoic. I am still learning how to process my emotions healthily, nevermind expressing them. I know intimately that the world is unkind and unfair. But I keep my mouth shut, because I’m a man, and obviously not oppressed in any way, and the more I write this post the more I realize I cannot be the only one who feels this way. I cannot be the only person who feels trapped inside their own mind by social convention, by patriarchy, for fear of being the villain. I cannot be the only stealth guy out here pretending to be emotionless to a point of boiling over.

I long to find some balance. To be able to express myself, to say my truth, without being labelled as the oppressor. I am not the man at the top of the food chain holding the whip. I long to be understood, even to understand myself.

[bastart13]

Unfortunately I couldn’t help but think through a few ironic implications of Portia’s Reversed ending

Fic below the cut

[1.5k words, tw character dying, set in Portia’s Reversed ending so spoilers]

A decade or so after their story ended

Isha let their head fall back with a rattling, haggard sigh. They closed their eyes, letting the gentle rocking of the docked ship lull their heart into a calm pace. It was almost enough for them to forget their troubles if it wasn’t for the sharp aches in their hip or the sheer effort it took to take a breath.

They’d never been good at listening to their own discomfort. They’d lived with discomfort all the life they remembered, whether it be from minor inconveniences with their arm, or the ever-present fatigue since magic left their world. But now, their body screamed at them everything they’d been trying to ignore. Everything they’d kept from Portia.

A chipper, rhythmic knocking on the door took them out of their thoughts. Despite everything, Isha couldn’t help but smile.

“Welcome back,” they called.

The door swung open with no hesitation as their wife bound into the room. Her sunny smile lit up the room, emphasising the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. A true smile, reserved for Isha and their children alone. She kicked off her worn boots, shutting the door behind her as she waltzed over to the bed.

“I’ve been missing you,” she teased, leaning in for a quick kiss. “We should be ready to undock soon. Jasna’s grown up to be a fine bosun. I swear, soon they’ll be rigging the boat with their hands tied behind their back just for the challenge. Right after we—”

Portia’s eyes locked onto their bedside table. A half-finished tankard of beer sat over an unfamiliar note filled edge-to-edge with scrawling ink. Her eyebrows tensed, frowning.

“Was Ilya here?”

“Yes, he just left,” Isha said. “He was sorry he couldn’t stay to see you, but he needed to get back to his partner before dark.”

“Did he at least squeeze in a ‘hello’ to his nieces and nephews?” she asked, her voice lightening to a dangerous cheer. Isha shook their head, looking back to the note.

“No…”

They needed to tell her.

He’d written everything she’d need to know but she didn’t deserve to hear it from Julian’s letter.

Portia stroked through their dull curls, pushing them away from their face before gently cupping their cheek.

“Are you feeling better from this morning?” she asked.

Isha took a short, weary breath.

“I’m not well, Portia,” they said softly. “I went outside for some fresh air this afternoon, when I ran into Julian and I had one of those attacks. He helped me back to see what was wrong and it’s getting worse.”

Hurt flickered across her expression before she slapped on a determined smile.

“But he told you how to treat it, right? That’s what the note is. I know we’re charted to sail down the Strait of Seals but if we don’t have what you need or the cold would be too much, we can change course,” she reassured, picking up a pace with no intention of stopping. “And look on the bright side! Now Ilya’s seen you, we might be able to get you back on your feet. You’ve been feeling low for a while now, think of all the places we can visit once you’re better. You can get back off the ship and travel inland. I’ve heard it’s really settled down in the north and I’d love it if we could visit Sun lake again—”

“There’s nothing to treat it,” Isha asserted, but Portia barrelled past.

“—And if we’re passing through Galbrada we can meet back up with Lavi. In his last letters, he was so excited about his travels—”

“I’m dying.”

Portia’s voice cut out.

The ship creaked and drummed with the distant movement of the crew above deck but to them, the quiet hung in the air like a dense fog.

“You’re not dying,” she insisted, the shine in her eyes fracturing. “You’re not dying, you’ll be okay,” she repeated. “I’m the Ambassador of Vesuvia! Along with Prakra, we’re one of the most powerful cities in the land and I have ships in every port in the five seas, loaded with imports. Ilya just must not know what we have access to. Even if—if you’re as ill as he says, we can find a cure. He could look again o-or we could go to Nazali. I know they’re older now, but they’ve trained so many medics, and if that doesn’t work, I know the leader of Urdangabil. They’re one of the leading pioneers of new medicine and if I look through my silvered book, I’m sure I can find something to get her to—”

“No.” Isha gripped Portia’s hand, staring deep into her eyes. Their gaze softened, their care hurting her more than any blade. “I’m dying, Portia

She frantically shook her head, her lip quivering.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’ve been dying ever since the magic left.”

“You’re not going to die! You’re going to be okay…”

“I was never going to live that long. It was borrowed time.”

“You told me you were okay!” Portia sobbed. There was nothing else she could say. She broke.

Pearly tears streamed down her cheeks and she collapsed into Isha’s embrace. She gripped their nightdress, holding onto them like a drowning woman to driftwood. Helpless sobs wracked through her body and Isha held onto their wife in return, gently rubbing her shoulder with their stump. It felt unfair. They were still so warm. Their heart beat the same reassuring patter as whenever Portia curled up against their chest. How could they… How…

But she knew how. She knew why and the thought only made her choking cries harsher.

“I’m sorry…” Isha said softly. “You deserved to know sooner… I wasn’t okay.”

Their chest grew wet from Portia’s tears and they only held her closer.

“It’s… gotten worse over the years,” they explained. “The first few were just this tiredness, but then my headaches came back. Tiredness became exhaustion. I felt… hollow. Like I was using myself up from the inside with every breath and step. It wasn’t until Julian saw me that I recognised it… You know me; I’m useless at asking for help.” They tried for a smile, even if Portia couldn’t see it. “I’m thankful every day I didn’t put that promise in my vows.”

Her crying hitched with a hysterical laugh before slamming her fist against their chest.

“STOP IT!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “J-Just stop it… Stop being s-so stupidly calm! How can y-you just—just accept this?! We’ve done so much… so much… All together. How could I have missed it? I have secrets on every city’s leader. I have ears and eyes everywhere. How—How didn’t even know my own spouse was d-dying!”

“I didn’t know,” Isha whispered, “and I didn’t tell you. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is! You know it is more than anyone. I was the one who chose to kill Aunt Tasya! I could have talked to her. I could have done anything to convince her, I could have…" She stilled under Isha’s arm. Tears dripped from her wide, unfocused eyes.

Moving like a stiff puppet, she fell out of their embrace.

“...The Arcana,” she whispered, the words barely leaving her lips. “I know Asra looked into it and found nothing… but that was just the first year. We have access to so much more… That’s it. I… I could try and call on them. On the other world. Even on—”

Portia jolted out of her daze with Isha’s iron clasp around her wrist and their amber eyes boring into her with a fire she hadn’t seen in years.

“You can’t,” they ordered. “Whatever happens, you can’t repeat Tasya’s mistakes. When we killed her, we accepted the consequences, and I don’t regret it. I can’t let you fall down that path. No matter what happens to me, you need to remember that. I’m not saying you can’t grieve, but you have to let me go.”

More tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. Isha let go of her wrist, reach up to hold her face and brush them away with their thumb.

“You’ve done everything you can for me and more,” they said.  “You’ve given me a goal, friends, a family. It means more than I could ever say, and I’m glad I’ve had this time with you, but it was always a half-filled hourglass.” They inhaled sharply, their chest suddenly feeling too empty until they breathed through the pain. Their eyes fell closed as they rested their forehead against Portia’s. “I’ve died once before. I don’t remember anything about the life I had before it, but as hard as it is, I know it’s different this time. I don’t want to die. I’m scared. I hate upsetting you. I want to see our children grow up and know the lives they’ll lead. But I’ve accepted it. I can’t ignore it or put it off.”

They pulled back with burning eyes and a tight throat.

“You’ve made my life worth more than I ever thought it could be. I love you, my light. Thank you for loving me.”

[letarasstuff]

Hug it out!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and I swear, if this flops I'll cry, because this is THE cutest fluff I came up with in a while

Summary: Some days are good, some days are rough with two toddlers. This is a rough day for Spencer.

Warnings: Except for tooth rotting fluff, the smallest bit of self doubt as a father

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨ ____________________________

It’s one of those days. Days, where Spencer is reminded how difficult it is being a single father to a pair of toddlers. From the moment they wake up, which is several hours before their regular time, Spencer knows he is in for it today.

“Ok, who wants juice?” He asks with an enthusiastic voice, trying to lift the mood. His youngest, two year old (Y/N), woke up due to a nightmare and came into his room at four in the morning to make her father cuddle the bad monsters away (her words, not his). Unfortunately she takes after her father regarding her clumsiness. While trying to close the door to Spencer’s bedroom quietly, she lost her balance and smashed it shut. That’s how he ended up with two children in his bed, cuddling close to him and still complaining about the closeness.

The grumpy kids light up a bit at the suggestion of the fruity liquid. “I wan da blu ‘up!” (Y/N) exclaimed. And there does the father see the next quarrel between the siblings incoming. “No! I always use the blue cup!” Her brother, who is three years her senior, argues. He is pretty possessive of his things, which is understandable given the fact that for the majority of his life he didn't have to share his things..

Spencer lets them exchange a few arguments about who should get the cup. Seeing that they are not able to solve this problem on their own (maybe because they are tired children or because the arguments presented by both sides are not that convincing), he decides to intervene.

“Why don’t you share the cup? This way both of you can have it and take a sip from it”, he suggests. But his idea meets his own germaphobia. “Don’ wan’ sha’e. Brother can hav’, I don’ wan’ his germ”, (Y/N) says defeatedly with a sad expression. Spencer can’t take offense in her answer, knowing he would react the same way. “Don’t you want your sippy cup anyway? With that you can also play later without worrying about spilling something”, he asks her in a gentle voice. This is met with a small nod and a tired yawn.

With breakfast and getting ready for the day out of the way, Spencer lets the two of them watch a bit of TV while he mingles around the household for a bit. It’s a free Saturday and all of his prayers wish that it stays that way, especially now, knowing that this day won’t be easy for their babysitter. Sometimes siblings just don’t get along.

“NO! No blanket fo’t!”, he hears (Y/N) shout. The father puts his son’s shirt that he was folding down and goes over to the living room. There he sees his children fighting over the big lavendel blanket that always lays on the couch. “Hey, what is this about?” He asks in a firm yet mild voice. A big part of his parenting is that raised voices only will lead to more raised voices and not quiet.

“I want to build a blanket fort with her, but (Y/N) is just too stubborn and wants to take a nap on the couch with the blanket. Dad, can you tell her that a blanket fort is way cooler than just sleeping please”, the older one complains, pointing to his sister.

Trying to think quickly on his feet for a solution, because a fighting pair of kids is more frightening than staring down eye to eye with an UnSub, Spencer stalls some time by taking the blanket and folding it.

“You have to understand Buddy that your sister still is pretty small and she needs to take naps throughout the day, because her small body doesn’t have enough energy for the whole day. And (Y/N) had a really bad night, so a nap would not be wrong. Maybe we can build a fort together and you two can watch a movie in it and lay down for a bit?” Making it not sound like he should take a nap too, even though this is Spencer’s intention, does the trick. A little bit later the siblings lay on pillows under blankets with blankets above them watching their favorite movie. They surprisingly quickly decided on a movie and saved their father another lecture.

This gives Spencer time to prepare lunch while finishing laundry and other important tasks in the household. As the food is cooking and everything else is done, he sits down with a book in his hand. A content sigh leaves his lips. Finally some peac-

“(Y/N)! THAT IS MY PART OF THE BLANKET!” “NO! I need blane’t too!” “You can’t even say blanket, because you are a baby. Go to sleep baby, I wanna watch the movie!” Quickly the father is back on his feet and strides towards the living room. Once again his children fight over that one blanket.

“Enough is enough, I need you two to come out there”, he says in a firm voice. Slowly both of them crawl out from the fort, looking somber. “I’ll ask each of you to tell me their side of the story, if you want, you can describe to me what happened. After that I want you to apologize to each other and hug it out, understood?” The children nod.

“Ok, does anyone want to explain something to me?” (Y/N) immediately shakes her head. “No, no ‘plaining, no ‘plaining. I good, I vewy good nowww.” Hearing her father talking in such a deep and serious tone is something she only witnessed a couple of times, that’s why she knows that listening now is important.

“And your brother?” He also shakes his head, knowing that nothing he has to say is worth the fuss he made. “Alright. I want you two to hug it out, because even though sometimes you both fight, you have to remember how much you love each other. Do you understand me?”

They nod again. “Sissy, come here. I didn’t want to call you a baby, you are my cute little sister.” The young boy carefully puts his arms around his sibling and gives her a kiss on her head. “I sowwy too, I lub you, bwotha”, she tells him and returns the hug.

Spencer watches the scene unfolding in front of him with an exploding heart. Parenting usually means doing things without seeing an immediate effect. It’s like stirring a boat blind, not knowing if he goes in the right direction or is close to hitting a rock and smashing the whole boat. But moments like these, especially on off days like today, show him that not every decision he made was wrong.

Later the small family lays together under the blanket fort, the father with a child in each arm, one sleeping and the other one talking about the movie they are watching and Spencer doesn’t want to change a single thing in the world.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[johnbbutmakeitace]

the grey morning light reflects the dull feeling in jj’s head where he’s perched on the gently swaying bow of the hms pogue.

his fishing rod, from where it’s propped up beside him, hasn’t so much as twinged in the past half hour. he’s beginning to suspect that the only thing he’ll be catching on the hook this morning is some dead seaweed and a headache.

“snagged anything yet?” from his spot in the boat’s driver’s seat, pope’s voice cuts through the quiet like scissors through ribbon.

“nah,” jj replies, tugging at the dry skin on his lip with his teeth while he peers over the side. the steel blue waters rocking their little habitat provide no information on if anyone down there is particularly interested in jj’s perfect little fish buffet. “no biters today.”

“maybe they can tell your bait is a week old.” when jj looks, pope’s watching him with a knowing look, brown eyes somehow bright enough to make jj squint at the sight of them.

“yeah, maybe you should shut up,” jj says, and pope snorts, before he goes back to watching the cloud covered sunrise, his green snapback pulled low over his eyes.

“‘it’s alright.” pope muses, voice low enough that jj can feel the hum of it in chest. “morning’s nice enough to just hang out anyway.”

jj curls one leg up to rest his cheek against his knee and stares back out at the water. he tries his best to ignore the way he feels like he’s floating.

“yeah,” he mutters.

there have been a lot of days recently when jj thinks he’ll float out and away from his body, if he lets himself.

it’s like he’s watching himself-- no, like he’s watching his body. he is somewhere else, suspended in the air like he’s half sunk to the bottom of a swimming pool’s deep end. his lungs ache, and the pressure is crushing his ears but he can’t quite seem to let himself sink far enough to kick off the bottom, his toes just barely brushing the concrete basin.

and he knows if he just tried a little harder he could probably force himself out of it. he could wrench his arms up with enough force to push himself to the bottom and kick off, shoot for the surface and the stars beyond like he’s supposed to, and yet.

and yet he never quite can. maybe it’s all the chlorine in his eyes. maybe it’s the fact he knows he’ll never quite make it to the surface anyway, let alone the stars.

so he’ll settle for the aching lungs and plugged up ears, not because he wants to but because there’s no other choice. he’ll settle for never quite enough. he’ll settle for floating away.

“quit that.”

jj looks up from his own tired reflection in the marsh water. “huh?”

pope’s watching him with that luminous kind of amusement and patience that jj knows he gets from his mom. the teasing set to his lips is all pope’s own, though.

“you’re chewing your lip,” he says. “i can see it bleeding.”

“oh.” distantly, jj registers the light sting on his lip. he swipes his tongue over the cut and feels it burn a little.

pope’s teasing look falters, just a little. his brows pinch, his quirked smile teetering towards something like worry. “you okay?”

“‘m fine.” jj looks away before he can see it fall. “just tired.”

a silence settles. there’s nothing but the rushing wind in his ears and the occasional creak of the hms pogue to keep jj from slipping out of his skin entirely.

he can barely feel pope’s gaze on the back of his head. he watches his own shoulders curl up towards his ears, the tips going pink. he notices the way his fingers are shaking, the red welling up on his lip, the way he squeezes his eyes shut to stop from losing what he’s supposed to call his sense of self all together.

then there’s a hand on his shoulder.

a warm, real hand yanking him back down into himself so fast jj is suddenly dizzy with the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“hey.” pope’s voice is beside him now. “jj, look at me.”

jj obeys, looks up into worried brown eyes and he suddenly can’t look too long because pope’s eyes are so genuine and bright in their concern it makes his eyes burn. the burn is hot, and so naturally that means tears start rushing up to put out the fire, and they’re slipping down jj’s cheeks and now he’s crying in front of pope, which is just fucking great.

“jj,” pope starts, and he sounds so crestfallen and confused, and he’s looking at jj like he’s at a loss, like he’s worried, and jj scrubs his hands over his burning eyes before he can see any more of the distress on his friend’s face.

“sorry,” jj manages, trying furiously to wipe at his tear stained face. “sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“shh, it’s okay,” pope soothes, and his gentle hands pull jj’s rough ones away from his face. “stop that, it’s okay. look at me, jj. look.”

warm fingers guide his chin up to look into pope’s face, and all the worry and confusion on pope’s face has melted away, despite the pinch of concern in his brow. he searches jj’s face, and whatever he finds there must be enough.

“c’mere,” he says, and jj goes. he lets himself be pulled into pope’s warm embrace, face hidden in the crook of pope’s neck. his shoulders shake with choked sobs, and pope holds him close through it all.

the morning goes on, and jj remains pinned, both in body and mind, against the steady beat of pope’s heart. when he feels as though he can breathe again, he looks up into bright brown from his resting place against pope’s shoulder.

“hey,” he says, and pope lets out a gentle laugh that shakes the two of them.

“hey,” pope responds amicably, that glinting amusement he gets from his mom dancing on his lips. “feeling better?”

“yeah,” he rasps, and doesn’t miss the way pope winces at the rough sound.

“wanna tell me what that was all about?” pope asks.

not trusting his own voice, jj shakes his head, and curls in closer to pope’s shoulder.

“okay.” pope nods, takes it in stride. “anything you need to help?”

jj hesitates. then, voice barely above a whisper, “you.”

jj feels pope’s breath hitch. he watches his eyes widen, and this close, jj feels the gentle huff of breath pope lets out against his cheek. jj watches pope’s gaze flicker down to his lips and back up again.

“me?” pope asks softly.

“you,” jj whispers, and pushes himself up off pope’s shoulder to meet him in the middle for a kiss.

it starts out gentle, then deepens quickly, the two refusing to have to pull away until they break apart gasping for air.

the first thing jj says when they pull apart is, “ow.”

“shit, your lip. sorry,” pope realizes half a second too late, and jj lets out a breathy laugh. “is it okay?”

“it’s fine,” jj promises, a light smile gracing across his features. pope’s own smile grows bigger, and jj pulls him back into his arms. “do it again.”

[twinleafroyalty]

ROCK THE BOAT.

Human beings desire social belonging - and we don’t want to rock the boat of social connections if we don’t have to.

I’m stuck in a bit of a complex spot, identity-wise. If you ask me my pronouns, I will shrug and tell you to assume and use whatever you want. If you ask me my gender, I will say I'm whatever you want me to be. If you ask my sexuality, I will say that I’m attracted to whoever I’m attracted to.

If you ask me whether I’m transgender... I’ll change the topic, not knowing how to answer.

In queer spaces, it is hard to exist comfortably as a detransitioned person.

I want to let myself be proud of my identity - but it’s hard to be. As someone so vocally opposed to radfem views, is it even right for me to show pride and celebrate awareness, knowing that my identity is one so often associated with them, knowing that this day of awareness was organized by vocal radfem individuals and organizations?

I took many approaches to writing this coming out post - simply saying I’m detrans, talking about the negativity I’ve seen around my identity, going into a full essay outlining my entire history with childhood trauma and its relationship to transitioning, writing a story where I project onto a weird void creature and use weird animal-related metaphors to allude to transition and detransition as I sit in a cave and force a bird to listen to me monologue... But this came most naturally. 

There’s two groups who talk about detransitioners - both are extreme opposites, yet they have a shared goal.

One side - radfems - set up a nice little cozy tea party, and they invite us in. They say they love us and care about us, that they’ll let us talk about our struggles and sorrows all day long, that they pity us. That they are so sorry that the ‘Troon Cult’ of ‘sexual deviants’ has harmed us and stolen away our bodies, and that they want to make sure nobody else gets ruined ever again like we all were.

The other side - who I’m going to dub as transgender activists - try to act like we don’t exist. If we do exist, there’s so few of us that we don’t matter anyways, and that we shouldn’t talk about our stories because we aren’t important, that we were never actually transgender, that our existence is harmful, and that we should just shut up and stop whining. Some of them say that they support detransitioners... but only the ‘good ones’ who keep their mouths shut and never ever talk about their experiences, let alone imply that it’s possible to regret transition.

When you look up ‘detransition’ on Google, the headlines represent these two extremes ; either ‘ignore detrans people they don’t matter nobody ever has transition regret they’re all lying shut up’ or ‘the transgenders are part of the evil Troon Cult and everyone who transitions is a victim or a predator’. Looking it up on Twitter and Tumblr, the posts consist either of people wielding detrans identities to attack transgender people, or of activists complaining that they even have to see us and going after anyone who dares to mention that they regretted transition.

( ... on Tumblr you also get extreme fetish blogs. Live and let live, I just wish they’d use different tags. )

These groups feed each other. It’s a cycle - one I cannot break, no matter how much I yearn to. One side rejects detransitioners and denies them their existence and experiences. The other side lulls detransitioners in and radicalizes them, using their desire for social belonging to attract them in. The activist group sees this radicalization and feel justified in attacking detransitioners - which only gives fuel to radical feminists to lure in more detransitioners.

And it... is hard to watch. I sit in this closet, fearing that should I step out my existence will be used as a weapon, or that others will try to push me back in, from two opposite groups who both want to protect dysphoric people.

For neither vocal extreme understands my needs, and non-radicalized detransitioners are so scattered and quiet due to stigmatization, there’s no community for me. The only thing I have to support myself is... myself.

Yet some people will argue that there is no closet for detransitioners to even be in. That we’re all just whiny cisgenders wanting oppression points, and while it could be easy to assume that we all just go back to being cisgender and no longer have anything to do with dysphoria... Well, let’s just say I have much more in common with a transgender person than a cisgender person. I still struggle with gender dysphoria, that disconnect between my mind and body is still there.

You might manage your dysphoria through transitioning, while I manage it through self-care, therapy, and a few other methods ; that doesn’t change the fact we are both managing dysphoria and have experience with it. Just because we manage differently doesn’t mean that one of us is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, that our experiences aren’t equally as real or important, or that we can’t help lift each other up. It’s just like how two different people might manage their depression differently, yet they still have shared experiences and struggles.

There’s a lump in my throat, that never goes away. It’s sore, it hurts to swallow, and my voice exhausts itself quickly. HRT thickens vocal cords, and I stopped right on the cusp of my voice dropping. I fear that every bump or bit of peach fuzz on my jaw is facial hair prompted by the hormones, even though I have not touched testosterone in years and stubble never started to grow. It’s not that these aspects are ones I view as wrong for a female-bodied individual to have, but that these aspects prompt dysphoria in myself.

Last year, I disappeared for all of June - it was simply too hard on my heart to see people being out and celebrating themselves while I was still in the closet. Will this happen again this year? I don’t know. But I knew that I needed to come out at some point before June rolled around again. I’ve rewritten and rewritten this post over and over again, with today set as a deadline. It was hard, because I knew that I needed to explain the intricacies of my identity, and that I had to approach with caution - because there were four things I wanted to avoid.

I wanted to avoid my story being able to be picked up by radfems and used to bludgeon transgender people with;

I wanted to avoid my story being able to be misread by well-meaning activists who would project their idea of a detransitioned person onto me;

I wanted to avoid accidentally making it sound like nobody should medically transition and that everyone regrets it;

I wanted to avoid turning this into a self-flagellation exercise where I whip myself while crying apologies for my existence.

... I can only hope I succeeded in that.

NOW - do I regret transition? Yes, and no. I don’t regret exploring my identity ; as I came into embracing a transgender identity, I became much more tolerant and well informed of other identities where I hadn’t been before. It allowed me important exploration, life experiences that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, and it’s taught me some life lessons. I’ve become more aware of my body and my relationship with it. I do have some regrets about transitioning, namely the development of physical reminders that could have been avoided, along with the shoving down of my trauma and blaming my discomfort on myself rather than the experiences I went through as a child.

Why am I even coming out in the first place? Because not being able to look up your identity without seeing the most extreme takes from either side is exhausting. In this RPC, I have only seen us brought up once - when some now ex-mutuals started talking about how detrans stories are fake and putting our label in scare quotes to imply that “detransitioners” don’t actually exist. To never see your identity acknowledged except for when people want to deny your existence stings.

Writing this post is probably the most stressful thing I’ve done in a while. I have spent hours upon hours of my life working on this, rewriting and rewriting and rewriting, poured so many tears over this. I’ve stressed about this for months - stressed about how to cover everything I need to cover to save my hide, and as I queue this up at 2 AM, I worry that maybe I didn’t do enough or that I misworded something that can be twisted out of context. I suppose I fear dismissal, or being turned into a weapon, or finding myself ostracized, or having people project motivations and meanings onto my words where there aren’t any.

While I can reassure myself by saying that I haven’t lost any followers due to my massive rambles on many other controversial topics, would this be the straw that breaks the camel’s back? Would it be best for me to just keep my mouth shut?

I don’t know and I am tired.

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Enemies to Lovers

For Maribat March day 23 theme enemies to lovers

Master List

“Kent’s coming over.” Damian stated at breakfast, none of the other Wayne’s seemed phased by this, none but one. 

“Again?” At Damian’s nod she continued, “I’ll be in my room or the Batcave so don’t bring him there.” 

"He will also be bringing a friend over from that exchange program his school did with the one in London." Damian added, Marinette tensed a little bit but didn’t say anything else.

"Is Jon bringing a stranger over a good idea?" Tim asked.

"Tt, Kent said that he would make sure the boy wouldn't wander." Damian answered, after 9 years in the manor he still hadn't gotten rid of his tt habit. 

"I'll be in my room then, I don't want Jon or his friend bothering me." Marinette announced to no one's surprise.

“Marinette,” She turned to look at Dick, “Why don’t you like Jon? This has been going on for almost a year now. Surely you could give him another chance. Or at the very least his friend?” 

“Not interested.” And with that she finished her breakfast and went to go help Alfred with cleaning the dishes, like she did every morning. 

Damian watched his younger half blood sister go, frown evident on his face. Marinette Wayne had been living with them for over a year now. While she was now 16, her opinion of one Jonathan Kent still had not changed. 

After Bruce had a one night stand with her mother she had been born 9 months later, Sabine having no intention of telling Bruce. What she did not expect was that 15 years later she and her husband would be guilty of negligence and emotional abuse of Marinette and custody would be handed to her bio father. Aka Bruce Wayne. 

Marinette changed her last name to Wayne and left her life in Paris behind. There was not much left for her there anyways. But she had never told her new family why she was so insistent on leaving Paris behind. More specifically who she was leaving behind.

The Waynes had gotten used to her bubbly personality in the manor, so they were shocked that when they sent her off to Gotham Academy she was dubbed the ‘Ice Princess’ the next morning.

Turns out after what happened in Paris, she refused to open up to anyone. Most days she was found sketching in her sketchbook, always alone. She still got straight A’s and even participated in a few clubs but never made one friend. It was concerning, how much she resembled Damian in that sense.

One day after patrol, after Marinette headed off to bed they started discussing Marinette's social life. Tim had joked that since she's such a ray of sunshine around them that she should meet Jon. 

This idea was met with positive reactions, all of them agreeing that Jon would be a good influence for her. He was also her age so that was a plus. And he was Damian's first friend, perhaps he could be Marinette's.

That weekend they were proven wrong. Very wrong. Marinette refused to be in the same room as Jon, and when trying to gently push the boundaries she had set, she grew hostile. Something they had never seen from her for as long as they had known her. 

One of their first thoughts was that she was scared of Jon, since he was half Kryptontian. But that idea was quickly shut down after Jason brought up the time she roasted Superman to his face. And had no regrets. 

Then they figured it was because he was still a stranger to her. So they had him over more often. But after 2 months they realized that wasn’t the case either. Yet, none of them had the slightest clue why she was so against Jonathon Kent. 

Not even Jon knew. All Jon knew was that whenever he walked into the same room as Marinette she grew annoyed. He knew she disliked him but that wasn’t what he was confused about. What made him confused was that he could sense her fear. She was scared of him, and he had no idea why. 

He thought about telling the Batfamily, thought about telling Damian, but how would it go over that the latest addition to the Batclan was scared of him. Especially knowing how paranoid and protective they could be. So he just stuck to avoiding her at all costs, it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. 

Marinette didn’t see Jon as an enemy per se she saw him as an enemy, but he was just someone she strongly disliked, she had her reasons. And while Jon definitely didn’t see Marinette as an enemy, the more she ignored him, and he would need to ignore her, started to grate on his nerves. If she was in a room that he was going to enter he would have to wait for her to leave and vice versa. It was getting tiring and he was starting to dislike her more and more to the point she almost became his enemy. 

Today would be no different except for one detail. That detail being a blonde haired, green eyed, sunshine child that reminded Jon of himself. While Adrien was a little too naive for his taste, they had gotten along great and he wanted to introduce him to Damian. 

Adrien had seemed intrigued by the idea of meeting a Wayne. Apparently his father used to be a businessman and despite the fact he was from France and only moved to London a year ago, he knew of how famous the Waynes are. 

Now here they were, in his dad’s car going to Wayne manor. 

“Okay, you remember what I told you right?” Jon questioned Adrien, he was making sure the boy was prepared and didn’t accidentally stumble upon the Batcave or anything relating the Waynes to the Bats.

“Yes I know, no wandering around the manor, it’s too big and I’ll get lost. No staring in awe at the Waynes, they’re not the celebrities the press makes them out to be. And if I see a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and looks to be a head shorter than me, I am to walk away immediately in the other direction and pretend I didn’t see her.” Adrien listed off. 

“Perfect!” Jon, exclaimed he was going to add more but his dad interrupted him. 

“Okay boys we’re here, I hope you have a good time Adrien.” 

“Thanks Mr. Kent, I will!” Adrien cheerfully replied as he followed Jon out of the car. Sometimes this boy reminded Jon too much of himself. 

“Master Jon, lovely to see you again. Is this your friend?” Alfred greeted them at the door.

“Yep! This is Adrien Graham de Vanily, Adrien this is Alfred, the Waynes butler but is more like a surrogate grandfather if anything.” Jon introduced. 

“Nice to meet you Mr. Alfred.” Adrien stuck out his hand to shake. 

“It is nice to meet you too Master Graham de Vanily, please just call me Alfred.”

“Then you can just call me Adrien, Alfred, my last name is such a mouthful.” 

“Of course Master Adrien, now will you two be staying for dinner?” 

“I don’t know, is it okay if we do?” Jon answered, secretly asking if she would be okay with it.

“It’ll be okay Master Jon. I will inform the others we will be having two guests stay with us for dinner.” Alfred led them inside, “Master Damian should be in the gaming room.” And with that he left. 

“Come on, Damian is probably setting up some games for us to play.” Jon grabbed Adrien’s hand and started dragging him down a hallway. 

Marinette could hear when Alfred had opened the door for Jon and his friend, she didn’t have super hearing but she had trained her ears for listening for certain things. Like the front door opening. 

After a few minutes Alfred had come to tell her the two would be staying for dinner. It wasn’t ideal but she could live with it, all she had to do was give Jon and his friend the cold shoulder for at most an hour. Nothing new to her.

Now a whole hour had passed and she was getting hungry. She still had another hour till dinner so a small snack would be fine. But leaving her room posed the risk of running into Jon or his friend, and she didn’t want to risk an interaction with either of them.

Both of them are with Damian right now. There are no bathrooms near her room or the kitchen. If she hurries it will only take her 10 minutes to get to the kitchen, grab the cookies she made earlier, and come back to her room. And since Damian was banned from the kitchen this week, and both of his new friends are stuck with him, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the kitchen. 

Of course when was the universe ever on her side. She was about to open the kitchen door when someone she thought she would never have to see again uttered her name, “Marinette?” 

She knew the voice. It was the same voice that told her to stay quiet all those years ago when a vicious liar ran her mouth. The same one that said he was on her side then abandoned her the second things got too tough for him. The same one that didn’t speak up whenever she tried to defend herself, instead saying not to rock the boat. And now the owner of that voice was in her home. 

She steeled her face into something cold and emotionless, despite the fear she felt in her stomach and turned to face him, “Agreste.”

“It’s Graham de Vanily now.” He corrected, both forgetting/not noticing the two other people there. 

“Pretty sure it’s Agreste, you know, just like your father.” She bit back, venom laced into every word. 

“He’s not my father, not anymore.” He replied, fists clenched at his sides, staring her straight in the eyes, confusing the other two boys.

“You sure, because you’re exactly like him, you know.” She raised an eyebrow and matched his gaze. 

“I am nothing like him.” Adrien took a threatening step forward and that’s when Damian immediately stepped in front of Marinette, wanting to protect his little sister from this person who just threatened her. Damian was about to ask something but was cut off when Marinette moved around him to face Adrien. 

“Really? Both of you put your own wants and desires above the well being of other people. Your father the people of Paris, and for you it was me.” Jon saw she was visibly shaking, from fear or anger he wasn’t sure. Both emotions were pretty strong for her, and when he focused on Adrien all the boy felt was guilt. 

“Look Mari I’m-” He was cut off by Marinette’s angry shout. 

“You would think that after all you put me through you would at least have the dignity to not call me by a nickname that friends are only allowed to call me. You know, people who actually care about me!” 

“Marinette, I’m sorry okay, that was really dumb of me!” Adrien shouted back. 

“Save it! You can pretend to regret your actions all you want, but people like you don’t change! That’s something you taught me!” Snack forgotten, Marinette ran back to her room and slammed the door. Locking it, she slid down the back of it and just cried. 

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do Graham de Vanily. How do you know my little sister? Why did she react to you like that? What did she mean by ‘all you put her though?’...” As Damian kept spitting out question after question Jon followed Marinette. Her cries were the only thing he could hear right then and there. 

As he made his way closer to her, the cries stopped, only tiny sniffles coming out. “What do you want Kent?” He could hear the shaking in her voice no matter how much she tried to cover it up. 

He sat down, his back resting on the closed door thinking about what he should say. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“I find that hard to believe. You wanted answers didn’t you?” She hiccuped in between words.

“A little bit.” 

“Well once upon a time there was a teenage girl who wore rose colored glasses all the time. She saw the world in rainbows and sunshine, never knowing of the darkness. Then one day a lying fox came into her life, spreading her tall tales. The girl tried to warn her friends and family but they didn’t listen. The fox ripped off the girl’s glasses and forced her to see the world for what it really was. The girl’s love at the time came to her and told her to keep silent, after all the fox’s lies weren’t hurting anyone. It was then she noticed that the boy wore the same glasses she did, only his were much stronger than hers had ever been. But she loved him, so she believed him, that everything would turn out okay, that if it didn’t he would be by her side. 

Slowly those around the girl turned on her, despite her doing nothing wrong. The boy who she once loved left her the second things got tough, never letting her stand up for herself. Soon the lying fox had gotten to her parents, things escalated from there. Now the girl moved to live with her bio family and everything was fine for a time. But then a boy who saw the world in sunshine and rainbows came around, and she was reminded of her past all over again.” Marinette finished her tale, her hiccups had faded away. 

“You don’t like me because I remind you of Adrien?” He hesitantly asked. 

“You don’t just remind me of him. Every time I see you I see him. But you’re also different from him. I don’t know. When you’re all happy and optimistic you're like him, but you also know how to be serious, which is something he could never do. I don’t know how to explain it but I thought if I kept you away from it would be alright. I really messed up didn’t I?” Marinette tried to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. 

“Kind of. But if you want we can start over.” Jon suggested, he wouldn’t mind getting to know the Marinette Damian talked so fondly about, not that Damian would ever admit it. 

He heard the lock unlock and he stood up as the door opened. He turned around and there was Marinette, her eyes were a little red and she had tears stains on her cheeks but she looked much better than before. 

She stuck her hand out, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Marinette Wayne.” She looked up to look in his eyes and wondered if they were always so blue. And oh god please say she didn’t start blushing!

“Nice to meet you Marinette. I’m Jonathan Kent, but you can call me Jon.” Jon took her hand and shook it, his eyes looked into hers and he couldn’t help but think they looked so beautiful when they weren’t glaring at him. Unfortunately, Damian’s scream broke them out of their daze.

“ANSWER ME!!!” 

“We better go help him.” Marinette pulled her hand back. 

“Yeah we probably should.” Jon replied but Marinette was already racing to where they left the boys. Jon ran to catch up with her, mentally berating himself for thinking his friend’s sister was cute. 

Marinette on the other hand was mentally berating herself for thinking that someone she used to dislike so much was now cute. Not to mention he’s her brother’s best friend. Well, Damian doesn’t have to know she thinks that.

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

I’m back from the dead! As I said before in What If... (which you can find on my master list day 22) school sucks and has been burying my grave so I had to focus on that for a while. But I have this and What If... done and am planning on doing the other days I have not crossed off on my Master List. 

This took so long to write and I’m already planning a part 2. Anyways hope u enjoyed!

@maribatmarch-2k21 

[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 2)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: TW for panic attacks, brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse

Thank you again to @cheshirevalentine for editing being the best

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Virgil lowered himself to the bed, hands trembling as the weight of his decision finally dawned on him.

He pushed thoughts of Roman out of his mind for now, how the Captain had just given up his room for him, and instead turned his attention to an exhausted Patton who clearly just wanted to go home.

“They said they aren’t leaving until morning,” he said, watching as Patton lowered himself to the chair across the room. “You can probably still sneak off. I’ll be fine, I’ll… make up some excuse for why you left.” Patton looked up at Virgil as he spoke, lowering his hands from where he had been rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“What do you mean? It's much too late to be out and about, and I'd make it heck for myself getting back on the ship before they leave."

“You wouldn’t need to get back on the ship.” Virgil leaned forward, fighting the urge to fall back on the bed and close his eyes. He could feel the exhaustion weighing down on him, thick and heavy. “You’d go back home. I’d just rather I get to say goodbye than you being gone when I wake up tomorrow.”

Virgil stared at his lap, painfully aware of Patton’s eyes on him, hands clasped in his lap as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, pushing down a sob at the thought of losing Patton. The man had been there nearly as long as he could remember. To be without him would be foreign and terrifying.

“Why would I be gone in the morning?” Patton asked. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, kiddo, c’mon.”

Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He really wasn’t in the mood to be given false hope out of kindness. Patton wouldn’t rat him out, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to uproot his entire life when Virgil couldn't even repay him. “You’re not coming with me, Patton. I’m never coming back.”

“I figured you weren’t coming back, Virge,” Patton said, his concerned frown only deepening. “Do you not want me to come with you? I figured you might, I know you hate being alone around new people."

“No, I… of course I want you with me,” Virgil said. He’d always known that one day he’d have to say goodbye, and it hurt, but Patton was… really not making it easy. “Pat, I'm spending almost everything I have on this ride. I'll barely have anything when we make it to Deigh. I can't pay you anymore.”

Patton just shook his head, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t care if you pay me, Virge. It’s not about the money.”

Virgil blinked, wondering if the stress and lack of sleep was making Patton delirious. "Pat, that's… that's why you're here. You stay with me because someone pays you to, and I can't do that.”

“I stay with you because I love you,” Patton said softly. “Not because of my job. You know I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath, unable to look at Patton as he wrapped his arms around himself. "You don't have to do that. I've known you were paid to stay with me since I was a kid, Pat. I just… really would rather say goodbye now than never get to."

“We’re not saying goodbye. I don’t care about my job, Virgil. I care about you. I stayed with you because I loved you, not because I got paid.”

“Right,” Virgil scoffed, desperately trying to keep himself from crying. “You don’t care about getting paid. So if the king offered you more money than you’ve ever seen in your life to bring me back, you wouldn’t take it?”

“I wouldn’t take you back for all the money in the world,” Patton said firmly. Virgil knew that if he cried Patton would follow, so he had to hold it together for both of them. Patton’s voice seemed to falter for a moment, the man looking down at his hands. “You don’t know how much I wanted to get you out of there.”

Virgil sniffed, rubbing his eyes and staring down at his lap, listening to the creaking of the boat as people moved around above them.

“We used to talk about it a lot,” he mused. “When I was younger. I always asked you when we were running away, and then I... “ He trailed off, wiping his face insistently. He couldn’t cry. It was for both of them. “I grew up and I never... thought we actually would.”

“Well, we are,” Patton said. “You’re not going back. Not ever again.”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, still refusing to look up. “You… you have a life, Pat. You have responsibilities. I’m not worth leaving all that behind.”

“You’re worth the world, kiddo. You’re worth so much more than any amount of money the King could offer. I love you more than anything, you know that. I’m here to stay, just like I always have. I promise.”

“You have family—”

“You’re my family,” Patton interrupted. “You’ve been my kid since you were six, Virgil. I love you.”

Virgil swallowed, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You have pretty bad taste, Pat.”

“No, Virge,” he said. They’d had this argument more times than Virgil could count. “I don’t. I- I’m sorry. I know what they did and I’m… I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner.”

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't, Patton had done everything just right. Virgil wouldn't have made it this far without him. "You did everything you could. I never… knew why you were so nice to me.”

Patton had been the first one to be kind, to not try to hurt or use him the second he met Virgil, and up until tonight, he’d been the only one.

Roman’s hadn’t tried either. He hadn’t seemed to consider it, not even once. And maybe it was stupid to trust him so easily, to jump on a ship with a man he’d only just met, he’d never get an opportunity like this ever again. It was worth the risk.

Patton sighed, shaky and small, and Virgil suspected he’d catch a glimpse of stray tears if he lifted his head. “I could have done so much more for you.”

“You did everything you could,” Virgil said again. “You made sure I wasn’t alone and that’s… that was what I needed.”

He heard Patton stand and make his way over to the bed, lowering himself beside Virgil. Shakily, he reached out, taking Virgil’s hands in his own. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you like that again, okay? I couldn't stop it then, but I can now."

He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for being the reason Patton sounded so miserable. Patton never should have seen the things that happened to Virgil, he’d be so much happier if he’d left it all behind years ago.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “But you can still change your mind. I won’t be mad.”

Patton lifted a hand, cupping Virgil's cheek, his thumb brushing gentle strokes as he watched him. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere without you, kiddo.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Patton said. “You’d know if Roman was suspicious, and I spent some time talking to Logan while you two chatted. We’re just two common travelers, and we’re gonna make it to Deigh and figure it out from there. Anything you want to do, we can do it.”

Virgil laughed, wiping his eyes and dropping his head on Patton’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he agreed, closing his eyes again when Patton cradled the back of his head. “We made it out.”

“This is a whole new start,” Patton said. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Virgil’s head, holding him like he had since Virgil was a kid. “I can’t wait to adventure with you.”

-

The next few days at sea weren’t as peaceful as Virgil had imagined they’d be, but the excitement was something new to him and he found himself watching everything intently, awestruck.

Casting off that first morning had been hectic, Virgil woken up by booming yells and thundering footsteps above him, he and Patton clambering out of the bed they were sharing to hurry up to the deck to watch.

The crew had been scuttling around to their respective places, all smiles and jovial chatter, Virgil stepping back to watch them work.

The crew was loud and a little intense, but each one had smiled or nodded pleasantly when they passed, Virgil returning the gesture with a quiet wave. It took a bit of getting used to, and he knew Patton could tell he was caught off guard. Virgil had never been surrounded by this much kindness in his life, everyone pleasant and free.

Roman was busy directing the ship and his crew, too busy to really spend much time with his passengers those first couple days, so Virgil was careful to give him some space.

He was always polite when they did see each other, just as charming as he’d been when they’d first met, no sign of him dropping the facade for something more sinister now that Virgil was practically trapped on his ship.

It felt… genuine.

The Captain would stop what he was doing when he saw Virgil or Patton, hurrying over to say hello and check in, asking how they were faring on the voyage.

He’d get called over by a crewman eventually, bidding Virgil farewell as he rushed back to work, and Virgil would sit by the rail with Patton and watch the waves crash against the side of the ship.

Even in a new environment, Patton knew when Virgil was overwhelmed or anxious, always ushering him over to hold him at the perfect moment. Virgil still sought him out on his own when he needed the reminder of safety, but Patton always seemed to have some sixth sense that let him know when Virgil needed to be held.

He was grateful beyond words that Patton had stayed with him.

It was still taking Virgil some time to get his “sea legs” as Roman had put it, stumbling with each step when the wind would pick up, the ship rocking against the unpredictable waves.

That first morning, Logan had put down his work and made his way over to teach Patton and Virgil how to work on keeping their balance, as well as some methods to keep them from getting seasick.

Logan was… nice. Virgil was a little wary of him, and he knew Patton would keep a close eye on the first mate for a bit, but he didn’t seem to have any ill intent, intimidating as he was.

A few days into their voyage Virgil had gone exploring by himself, Patton busy with introducing himself to as much of the crew as he could.

Roman was up on the bridge, smiling as he gave orders to his crew, the wind tangled in his hair, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Virgil.

The ship had chosen that moment to tip, almost sending Virgil stumbling right into the Captain’s chest, and Roman had leaned forward and swiftly caught him around the waist.

He’d had to spin a little to keep them from falling, leaving Virgil feeling wonderfully lightheaded, and when they’d steadied themselves Roman had given him an infuriatingly pleased smile. He’d held him around the waist just long enough to wink before he let go and returned to watching the sea.

Virgil had run right back to Patton after that, face burning bright red, refusing to talk about what had gotten him so flustered.

It had only been a few days, but Virgil had never felt so content. Unfortunately, this much excitement and change was making it nearly impossible to get any sleep.

Patton was sound asleep on the other side of the bed, but Virgil was stuck staring blankly at the ceiling, plagued with thoughts of his new freedom, his future, and Roman's stupidly innocent flirting (that absolutely did not make him blush) his head running wild after the last few days of a brand new life.

There was no point in laying here all night, listening to the endless creaking of the ship. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the ocean at night.

He was careful not to wake Patton when he eventually crawled out of bed, creeping across the cabin and slipping out the door to make his way out onto the deck.

He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, holding his arms out a little to steady himself, but the night was beautiful, stars scattered across the midnight sky, the air crisp and the breeze pleasantly cold.

He almost wasn’t surprised when he found Roman leaned against the railing, facing out towards the sea with the wind in his face. Virgil froze when Roman turned around, but immediately relaxed when the Captain smiled, laughing softly at Virgil’s unsteady movements.

“Why’re you up?” he called, motioning for Virgil to make his way to the railing. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”

Virgil really hoped his blush wasn't visible under the moonlight, and he wondered if Roman would be proud of himself if he knew he was the only person to make Virgil genuinely flustered. Not that he’d mention it.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Virgil said, finally making it to Roman’s side. “You’ve got a whole ship to run.”

With the moonlight dancing between the two of them, Virgil could swear he could count the specks in Roman’s eyes. He felt his cheeks flush and he quickly turned towards the sea, closing his eyes to the wind, the light spray of the salty water stinging pleasantly.

“The ship isn’t run solely on me,” Roman said. “I don’t get much sleep, anyways. I’ll be alright. What about you, don’t you need your beauty sleep?”

Virgil's blush definitely darkened at that and he smiled at the cheesy line against his will. He could feel Roman staring, and he ducked his head to let his bangs fall into his eyes. "I think it's pretty clear I don't get much of that as it is."

Roman turned and Virgil glanced over to him, the Captain giving him a soft, almost private smile.

“As if you were on fire from within,” Roman recited, putting his chin in his hand with his elbow up on the rail. “The moon lives in the lining of your skin.”

Virgil turned to him, laughing softly when he briefly caught Roman's gaze. For once, someone staring didn't make him feel tense or exposed. "I didn't know you liked poetry, Captain. Pablo Neruda?"

Roman froze, his face going beat red, and Virgil grinned as the Captain realized he’d been found with his hand in the poet’s journal.

“You caught me,” Roman laughed, his smile guilty as he straightened up and wiped his face with his palm. “Where did you come across Neruda?”

“Relax, it sounds better coming from you, anyway.” In the face of Roman's embarrassment, Virgil found himself much less nervous to respond with a teasing smile. “My, uh…my uncle always wanted me to be well read. Ever since I was a kid.”

“And he thought Neruda was a good place to start?” Roman teased, leaning forward. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were a royal, Virgil.”

Virgil knew he was teasing, that it was just another lighthearted joke. He hadn’t meant to react with anything other than a scoff, but suddenly his throat was dry, face paling as he tore his gaze from Roman to watch the sea again.

“Oh please,” he forced out, hoping his brief panicked stumble went unnoticed. “Can you imagine that? Me? Living up in a fancy castle?”

He felt Roman staring, the silence stretching on a moment too long, and Virgil clutched at the railing with suddenly unsteady hands.

“That would be crazy, of course,” Roman said slowly. “You wouldn’t be running away on a pirate ship if you were a royal.”

Virgil laughed again and- shit, his hands were shaking now. Maybe he could blame it on being a walking anxiety attack all the time. “Of course not. I’m just teasing you, Captain. Why don’t you recite more of your poetry?” He said, his nervous laugh catching in his throat.

Roman stood up straight now, and his smile was gone when Virgil glanced over. “Surely you’re not a royal. That would be crazy. You’re not a royal, are you Virgil?”

Virgil clenched his jaw, clutching the railing and keeping his eyes on the ocean. “I’m… I’m not a royal.”

He couldn’t look up when Roman took a careful step forward, setting a hand down on Virgil’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and he just hoped Roman couldn’t tell he was shaking.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you’re not a royal, Virgil. This isn’t a joke. I can’t kidnap a member of the royal family on a whim.”

Even now, shaking on the deck of an unfamiliar ship and desperately trying to force himself to just get it together and lie before everything fell apart… he couldn’t help but feel grounded with Roman’s hand on his shoulder. “I…you’re not kidnapping me.”

“I am, Virgil,” Roman said, his frown deepening. “Unless you were specifically given permission, this is kidnapping. Did you-” he paused, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulders to run it through his hair, turning to step away. “Did you get permission? Or did you just leave everything on a whim?”

Virgil still couldn’t meet Roman’s eyes, feeling a bit like he was going to be sick. His heart was racing in his ears, beating so fast and so loud he wondered if Roman could hear it too. “I didn’t… actually think I would get out of the city so quickly.”

Roman froze, barely a heartbeat of silence passing before the Captain’s voice took over the deck, no longer excited and jovial.

“So you climbed on the first ship you found?” Roman whirled back around, arms thrown out to the side. “You can’t just abandon your duties like that! You have responsibilities, don’t you? Shit! I’m so fucked if I get boarded by a Navy boat!”

Virgil shrank back when Roman raised his voice, watching as the Captain began to pace the deck, first away from Virgil and then back. He mourned the loss of Roman’s touch more than he probably had the right to.

“I’m sorry,” he tried, letting go of the railing in favor or wrapping his arms around himself. “I just...I- you were nice and you offered me a ride and I—”

“You can’t trust everyone who’s nice to you, Virgil!” Roman turned back, his face a furious mask of frustration. “You ran away! Next you’ll be telling me you were the fucking Crown Prince!”

Virgil flinched back a little too fast, his breathing picking up. He felt small and cornered, the feeling unfortunately painfully familiar.

“I- uhm…” he trailed off, warily looking up to meet Roman’s eyes, not quite sure how to answer with words. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Roman dropped his arms to his sides, staring at Virgil with eyes wide in disbelief. “No. You’re not the heir. You did not run away from the crown of your kingdom on a whim. Surely.”

Abruptly, Virgil wondered if Roman was going to hurt him. He was angry, and rightfully so, much larger, and they were all alone- up on the deck in the middle of the night.

He wondered if he could make a break for it and get to Patton before the Captain grabbed him. Probably not.

“I’d been…thinking about it for a while,” Virgil said quietly. “So it wasn’t technically on a whim.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, the air between them tense, the only sound coming from the crashing of the waves below. "We're turning around. I'm taking you back. Go tell Patton, we'll be back by the end of the week."

“What?” Virgil felt everything screech to a halt, panic and dread hitting full force as Roman’s words settled and the Captain turned on his heel. He was moving to intercept his path before he could stop himself. “No! No, you can’t do that!”

Roman stopped, just for a moment to look down at him. “Yes, I can. You should get to bed now, it’s late.” He stepped around him, a hand on Virgil’s arm to get around. “Sleep well, Virgil.”

“No!” Virgil wasn't thinking anymore, acting on pure panicked instinct as he reached out to grab Roman's arm, desperate to keep him on the deck. “Please, please you can’t. You can’t take me back, I- I can’t go back. Roman, please.”

“Let go of me, Virgil.”

Virgil didn’t move, despite being acutely aware of how much bigger Roman was, and how close they were. It wasn’t pleasant anymore. “Please Roman, please. I’ll—” he hesitated for a moment, considering his desperate words. “—Roman, I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Virgil,” Roman said before the words were even out of Virgil’s mouth, the Captain tensing in his hold. “You have to go back. Now let go.”

“I can’t.” Virgil couldn’t move, still clutching Roman’s arm, and he distantly realized he couldn’t catch his breath either. “I’m- I’m not going back. I’m not going back, Roman I’m… please don’t make me. I can’t- I can’t do it again.”

Roman finally turned, firmly taking Virgil by the shoulders and bending down slightly to be eye level with the smaller man. “You have a duty, Virgil. And so do I. This is bigger than you and it’s bigger than me. I know you’re scared, and it’s ok to be, but you have to go back. I know it’s hard. Believe me, I do. I understand more than you know.”

“No you don’t.” Virgil was crying now, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He twisted out of Roman’s grasp, frantically backing away. “You-you don’t, I… they’ll just hurt me again if I go back and it’ll be worse and I can’t- I’m…I can’t do it again, Roman!”

Roman let him go, quickly pulling his hands away like he’d been burnt when Virgil started to back up. There was a moment of silence, the furious waves once again the only sound on the deck, overshadowed only by Virgil’s quick, panicked breathing.

“Again?” Roman repeated, voice quiet. “What- who hurt you, Virgil?”

“Everyone!” Virgil couldn't breathe, he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back. Not after finally coming so close to getting away. “They all- they all keep…they won’t stop and I hate it! You…you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t even try so I trusted you and- and now you’re taking me back.”

“You’re shaking, Virgil,” Roman said softly. He reached for him, freezing when Virgil scrambled back again. “I won’t hurt you. I… I’ll figure it out when we get there, you're not without help.”

Virgil could barely hear Roman at this point, too busy frantically trying to remember how to breathe, shaking uncontrollably as the Captain spoke.

All he knew was that Roman was still insisting on taking him back.

Because nobody cared if Virgil was hurt or used or trapped. He was the Prince. He was just property made to look pretty, wasn’t he? A pretty pawn to be placed on the throne.

He found himself glancing at the railing, the only thing separating him from the endless sea. “I’m not going back.”

“You have to go back, Virgil.” The Captain took a few steps towards Virgil, slow and steady, his hands out in front of him. “It’s the only option. You’re not safe out at sea or with me.”

Virgil took a step back as Roman approached, eyes darting between the Captain and the railing of the ship, tears now running freely as the hopelessness set in. Because no matter what he did, as long as he was alive he’d end up right back where he started. “I- I don’t care. I can’t do it again, Roman!”

And then, before any rational part of his brain beyond the panic could talk him out of it, Virgil darted forward towards the railing, eyes on the dark water below. He made it to the edge, lifted himself up and—

And then there were arms around him, grabbing Virgil by the waist just as his hands closed around the railing, hoisting him up and back away from the edge.

“No!” All he could register were hands wrapped tight around him, grabbing him, dragging him onto the ship that was taking him right back to the place he’d been trying to escape since he was a child.

He twisted and kicked and thrashed in Roman’s grasp, chest screaming in pain as he fought to catch his breath, but the Captain’s hold never loosened. Virgil’s stomach dropped when they both went crashing to the ground, the sick feeling in his stomach rising up into his throat until he felt like he was choking. Roman’s hold only tightened when they fell, Virgil’s back against his chest.

“Please,” he begged, the words falling from his lips without his permission, terrified and desperate. “Please, Roman not you too. Not…please don’t, please don’t do this—”

“Do what?” Roman asked, incredulous. “I’m trying to keep you from jumping off the ship! I’m not going to hurt you!”

“You’re making me go back.” Virgil couldn’t breathe. It felt like his lungs were being crushed every time he struggled to take a single breath. “You…you can do whatever you want to me just please. Please don’t make me go back. Please, just help me.”

Roman didn’t respond for a long moment, or maybe Virgil just couldn’t hear anything over his own panicked breathing, but after a moment the Captain’s hold loosened slowly until his arms were just loosely draped around him. Virgil didn’t have the energy to make a run for it, and he was terrified of the consequences of getting caught again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Virgil. I don’t want anything from you, I—” he paused for a moment, his breathing heavy, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not taking you back.”

Virgil still couldn’t catch his breath, lightheaded from the pain in his chest, so it took a moment for Roman’s words to register. He froze, stopping any futile struggling, eyes flying open again.

Slowly, still hesitant and cautious, he reached up with a trembling hand to clutch weakly at Roman’s wrist. “You…you’re not…really?”

He’d begged before, countless times to countless people over the years, but nobody had ever bothered to listen.

“No, I’m not.” Roman tightened his hold just a little, but it felt more like comfort than restriction. “If you’re that desperate not to go back, I’ll trust that it was that bad. I’m not taking you back.”

The flood of relief was dizzying, somehow more exhausting than the panic, and Virgil took in a desperate, shaky breath which quickly dissolved into a sob.

He twisted around, the Captain’s hold loose enough to let him turn until he could wrap his arms around Roman, holding on as tight as he could manage and dropping his forehead to the other man’s chest.

“Thank you.” Distantly, he figured he should be ashamed of how badly he was still shaking, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Roman said, hugging Virgil to his chest. “It’s just human decency. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s not,” Virgil said, voice muffled by Roman’s shirt. “No one…no one else would. So thank you. Thank you so much.”

He still couldn’t stop trembling, cold and terrified, and he no longer had the strength to keep his eyes open on his own. Roman maneuvered slowly to rest a hand on Virgil's head, carefully running fingers through his hair just like Patton always did to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

Virgil melted into the embrace, letting out another shuddering breath as his own hold on Roman began to loosen against his will. He felt himself being dragged down to sleep, exhaustion weighing over him like a blanket. He didn't mean to say anything else, but he wasn't exactly thinking clearly right now. "I… I don't want to be hurt anymore."

“I won’t let them hurt you ever again,” Roman said. Virgil felt him reposition his hold to have one hand under his knees, the other against the Prince’s back. “You’re safe.”

Moving slowly, Roman stood up and took Virgil with him, holding the smaller man against his chest. The Captain’s arms around him were the last thing he registered before everything faded, and he let himself drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple

[gumnut-logic]

Census

After my little hissy fit last night about not being able to write, I spent all day today doing exactly that. 5000 words later and we have this rambling fic. I had to fill in our Census today, so I figured the Tracys could too. It went places I did not expect.

There are a couple of anachronisms in this fic. It is based in 2060 for census reasons, but I mention at least two characters interacting with the Tracys from later seasons. Please ignore and enjoy anyway :D

There are also a couple of vague references to ship, but no real ship, I promise.

Thank you in particular to @katblu42​ and @willow-salix​  and the other members of Thunderfam who kindly checked on on me last night while I was bemoaning my inability to write. Sorry if I was exasperating. I have a degree in that. If it helps, no one gets more annoyed with me than I do ::hugs you lots::

Rambly, mostly brotherly conversations and doesn’t really go anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

How Gordon got there first was no mystery. Virgil was just too damned tired after three rescues in a row and Scott had been tied up with Tracy Industries for most of the day. Grandma could possibly have been on it if she hadn’t been filling in for John who had broken out his exo-suit to yank a couple of free floaters out of the sky.

He was still muttering about idiots and safety. His mood was not improved by the fact Grandma insisted he come down for the night so he could be counted.

Consequently, his muttering also included cursing bureaucracy even though Virgil knew census night was a favourite of the astronaut.

Perhaps Gordon got to the form first because he knew everyone else was tired and grumpy and needed a kick in the pants. Virgil had to admit with a fond thought that his little brother was prone to throwing joke bombs amongst them when the mood was through the floor.

Virgil had no issues wondering why Alan wasn’t the one poking at the form. Their resident teenager wasn’t interested at all.

“Okay, guys. What is our address? What did we put last time?”

Alan didn’t even look up from his game. “Tracy Island.”

Gordon, who was sitting at Dad’s desk, staring at the holographic form, hesitated. “Did Dad register that with the powers that be?”

“What?” Alan really wasn’t paying any attention at all.

Virgil sighed. He was sitting on the couch with one of his uniform boots on his lap attempting to pick out several penetrating objects out of the sole. His last rescue had been a collapsed factory and he was still trying to work out what exactly it was that they made that could penetrate his specialist footwear.

Fortunately, despite multiple incursions, he only had a scratch on his left foot, more an annoyance than anything, but these objects were frustrating and suspicious.

“Dad did all the right things. Tracy Island is the official name now.” The pliers weren’t quite gripping the piece of metal properly. The grip slipped and Virgil swore.

“Now? What was it called before?”

“Deserter’s Rock.” Scott strode in from the kitchen, a coffee in hand, and grimace on his face. His usually perfect hair was scruffy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

His brother took the steps down into the lounge and sighed. “Nothing a holiday won’t fix.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What’s with the boot?”

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

It was John who answered, very much like Alan, staring into his tablet and barely paying attention. “Really. Three sailors were stuck here for months. Only one survived. That’s why there is a cairn on Tracy Peak.”

“I thought that was a pile of rocks put there by Dad.” Gordon seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean there are two dead guys on the Island?”

“Along with their ghosts, yeah.” John still didn’t look up.

“Ghosts?” Alan did look up at that, eyes wide. “What ghosts?”

“The one’s who keep stealing my Bailey’s ice cream.”

“Oh.” Alan went back to playing his game, his eyes definitely not darting between John and Gordon at all.

“Okay, moving on…so where do I put ‘Tracy Island’ in this thing? It’s not a suburb, state or territory…do we have a postcode?”

“It’s a locality. Shove it in there.” Virgil grit his teeth and yanked hard at the piece of metal embedded in his boot. A grunt and a flex of heavy lifting muscles and…it didn’t move at all. What the hell?

“Okay, whatever.” Gordon half sung ‘Tracy Island, Kermadec Ridge, South Pacific Ocean’ to himself as he entered it into the form. At least he was being specific. Virgil glared at his boot.

“Next. Who gets to be head of household? Oh, the Householder?” A pause in which Virgil poked at his boot, Scott sipped his coffee with closed eyes, Alan killed three zombies with a grin and John sat motionless still staring at his tablet.

“Okay, then. It’s me.” Gordon grinned to himself.

Nobody looked up, but all four other brothers said simultaneously and in chorus. “It’s Grandma.”

Virgil flexed his hand and picked up his pliers again. Peripherally, he watched Gordon’s shoulders drop. Even the Fish couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. It’s Grandma.” He reached up and touched the box to open that section of the form. “Where is she anyway?”

Virgil tried to get a better grip on another chunk of metal in his boot. “Yoga. Don’t disturb her.” Yoga was Grandma’s mindfulness time and after today, it was well overdue. “Leave her be.”

“I wasn’t going to. Sheesh. So, name. Sally Tracy.” He typed in her name. “Person two?”

“Scott Tracy.” Okay, so Virgil had a bit of a thing about this. His brother deserved acknowledgement for everything he had done.

Gordon glared at him. “And so I guess the rest of us are in age order?”

Virgil flipped his boot over. “Whatever floats your boat, fishboy.” A glance in Scott’s direction and he had to wonder if his brother had fallen asleep, he was that still. The coffee mug in his hand was the only proof of consciousness.

Virgil fought the urge to save it. “Scott, you wanna go to bed?”

“Wha-?” His brother sat up. “I’m fine.” Fortunately, he put the coffee mug down. The chances of Virgil having to treat burns tonight dropped significantly.

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

Virgil did not grace that with an answer as it was obviously a stupid question.

John was apparently on auto as he spouted off the required letters anyway while still staring at his tablet.

Gordon poked at the form in silence for a little while and Virgil wondered what on Earth he was entering. He trusted his brother. This was an official document, after all, but he was still Gordon.

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

Beside Virgil, Scott ‘woke up’. “What, no questions about Grandma?”

Gordon frowned at his eldest brother. “I’ll have you know that I know our grandmother very well. We have a special kind of relationship.”

Alan snorted.

“What? You got something to say, sprout?” The fish glared at Alan enough to torch him on the spot.

“I’m just saying that after that time with Grandma’s diver’s license, you should know Grandma’s details very well. Her birthdate, her ancestry, her suit measurements…”

A starfish plushie suddenly had a very short career as a ninja star and bounced off Alan’s head. “Shut up, Alan.”

Their little brother only giggled more.

John, still staring at his tablet, raised an eyebrow. “Allie, Grandma baked some cookies yesterday. I think there are still some in the cupboard. Would you like some?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alan threw the plushie at his fish brother, missing completely, and went back to playing his game. There was muttering about Gordon making jokes but Alan not being allowed to.

Virgil sighed to himself.

“Scotty, what’s your age? It’s 2060 for reference. Oh, and your gender.”

All signs of sleep fell away and Scott sat up. “Gordon…” It was all warning.

“Hey, I’m just giving you the opportunity to offer an alternative. After all, tonight you look at least fifty-six.”

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

Gordon poked at the form. “Thirty-one years young. Got it.”

Scott grunted at him.

“Virg, are we telling the truth this time?”

“Depends on whether you want me to leave you in the ocean next time.” Why the hell couldn’t he get this out of his boot?

“To threat level already, you are grumpy tonight.”

“Gordon…” Virgil echoed Scott from earlier to the note.

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

Gordon signed. “John Glenn Tracy, how would you like me to record your age?”

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

“If I say I’m thirty-two, do I get to go higher up on the form?” Alan looked hopeful.

“If you like.” Gordon moved things around on the display.

Virgil gave up. The locality of Tracy Island was destined to be a statistical anomaly anyway. At least it would be an interesting one.

Besides, John would probably hack it later and fix it. The fact he had hardly protested so far was eminent proof of that security factor.

“Scotty, are you the husband or wife of Grandma?”

Scott rubbed his face and didn’t bother to answer, picking up his coffee again and burying his face in it.

Virgil just wished he would go to bed. The man was a zombie.

Gordon took the hint and was quiet for a little while. Virgil went back to tugging on his boot. Maybe he should take this down to his workshop.

The thought of actually working more had his shoulders slumping enough to alert Scott. The concerned and questioning look shot in his direction had Virgil sitting up a little straighter to fend it off.

“John, where should we put your usual place of residence?”

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

“As necessary. Tracy Island is home. Thunderbird Five is merely in our astronomical backyard, not to mention secret.”

Virgil looked up at that. It was a simple statement, but it was good to hear that John still considered Tracy Island home despite his multiple protests over the years.

“Fine. Secret space station wasn’t an option anyway. I could flub it and use Global One but then that would spark all those rumours about you and that captain all over again.”

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

The aquanaut shot to his feet. “You touch my tanks and you’re dead, spacehead.”

John didn’t react other than to smile just a little.

Their space brother could be a right royal ass when he wanted to be. Virgil sighed. “John, you know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

“You touch my tanks, I’m spicing up your atmosphere on Five. I’m not kidding. I have fart gas resources even you can’t find.” Gordon was still on his feet and actually appeared angry.

John shuddered. “TMI, Gordo. Not interested in your gas capacity, honestly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Gords, John’s not doing anything to your fish tanks. He knows the rules, don’t you, John.” He arched a prompting eyebrow at his brother.

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

“Gordon, calm down. You can put John’s relationship to you in as ‘nemesis’ if it makes you feel better.”

“I can only put in our relationship to Grandma. I wrote favourite grandson in yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. “I’m not going to complain. Sit down and finish the form.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did sit down, albeit still glaring at John.

John had gone back to his tablet, doing who knew the hell what.

Definitely an ass.

Virgil turned back to Gordon. “What’s the next question, Gords?”

The glare switched to Virgil for a second before turning to the form. “Where were we born?”

“Kansas.”

“I know that. What about Grandma, Brains and Kayo?”

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn’t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

“Grandma was born in Kansas, Brains was born in India, and Kayo was born here.” Scott proved he was still awake by suddenly providing information enough to make Virgil jump.

Gordon poked at the form, but nothing further was said on that front. Everyone knew Kayo was sensitive about her past, and while she wasn’t in the room, she would find out and partially kill anyone responsible.

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

Virgil yanked on his boot again, slipped and managed to elbow Scott in the ribs. His brother grunted.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” He shoved the boot aside and the pliers along with it.

Scott eyed him and rubbed his side. “That answers your question, Gordon. Kayo is on a conference call with Captain Rigby.”

Virgil glared at Scott.

Gordon eyed the both of them. “Is there something you two aren’t telling the class?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil glared at Scott a moment longer, enough to have his brother’s expression fall into one of concern. Grabbing his boot again, Virgil went back to wrestling with embedded metal. Damned specialised rubber was amazing when it protected him but when its tolerances were overrun, it was a pain to fix. Maybe he should ask Max to give it a yank. “What entertaining religion are you using this time, Gords?” Any attempt to get the conversation off this topic.

Gordon stared at him a moment, obviously still trying to work out what the hell happened there.

Scott was dead later; Virgil was going to make sure of it. Tired or not, he had crossed a line.

A sideways look in his eldest brother’s direction and it was obvious Scott realised that. Okay, maybe he could let it go. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

Gordon was still staring but even the fish knew when to shut up apparently, because the next words out of his mouth were entirely religious.

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

Alan frowned. “I thought you said that last time.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

That brought the whole room to a standstill. Last census was ten years ago. Flashback to that time brought everything that had changed into the bright glaring light. The biggest change being Dad’s absence. But even more, ten years ago they were still based in Kansas, IR was in development, but not yet a reality. Alan was only six, Gords eleven and with his body still intact…it was a completely different time. Virgil was still in college and had to fill in his own census form in Denver.

Gordon broke the looming silence with a determined smile. “This time the government gets the truth. Scott bows to the sky gods, Virg worships molemen, Johnny is a god, and Alan is Satan.

“Hey!” It was said by multiple brothers at once.

Only John remained calm. He even had a smile. “In that case, I want bagels every Sunday.”

“You get bagels every Sunday. Virg sends them up all the time.” Alan glared at his space brother – Alan did not like bagels.

John grinned wider. “I’ll take that as proof that I have at least one faithful worshipper.”

“Next time you can get your own bagels.” Virgil glared at his brother.

Gordon snorted. “Yeah, right, you old softie. John could blow up Two and you’d still send him his bagels.”

Virgil found himself glaring at Gordon again. It seemed to be a theme tonight. “Short pier, long walk, Gordon, go for it.”

He got a smirk for that. “Don’t mind if I do. A little night diving is quite spectacular around here.”

Virgil ignored him and went back to his boot…which he had made zero progress on for all the time he had been sitting here, damnit.

“Does Virgil ever ‘need someone to help with or be with him for self-care, body movement, or communication activities’?” Gordon typed into the form. “Before coffee.”

Virgil ignored him some more as Alan took the bait and snickered. “Better watch it, Gords. Won’t be long before ‘before coffee’ time kicks in. Look at him, he’s already brewing.”

The piece of metal in his boot finally shifted a little. Thank goodness.

“Long term health conditions.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “Well, isn’t this cheerful.”

“Just fill it in, Gordon.” Scott’s words were little more than a sigh.

That left a gaping silence. Gordon tapped a lot at the keyboard filling in far too much. More for himself, obviously, but then there was John and his space issues, and they all had been diagnosed with something on the list hanging above their father’s desk.

Except Alan, who could not be left out. Virgil pretended to not be able to read the word ‘zombification’ next to his little brother’s name.

“Schooling? Oh man, John, you can write all the letters after your name. I can never remember them all.”

“Not a problem.” The astronaut poked at his tablet and the hologram in front of Gordon sprouted half the alphabet.

“Really? Did you get a new one?” He stared at John. “When did you get time for that?”

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

“You were in the ocean. I didn’t know enough to help. So I fixed the problem.”

Gordon just stared.

Virgil, of course, knew. He had been the one to field John’s version of panic the day he didn’t know enough to help Gordon. John was practical. He saw a problem, he fixed it. Oceanography wasn’t an obvious topic for the starman, but he was a genius and that genius could be applied where he wished it to be.

If Virgil had found himself helping John at a few points that intersected with his specialities along the way, he was just going to take a little comfort from being able to return the favour after years of borrowing his brother’s brains for other topics.

And besides, it had meant he had been able to spend a little extra time with John. Always a good thing.

Despite him being the occasional ass.

Gordon was still staring. “Is that why you bugged me to take you out in Four?”

John shrugged. “Partly. Didn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either. Good experience to familiarise myself with Four as well.”

The stare continued.

“Be careful you don’t catch any flies with your mouth open.”

The stare became a glare. “We’re talking about this. You and me.”

“Sure.”

Gordon looked like he didn’t know whether to yell at him or run over and hug his brother. Virgil was voting for the latter.

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

Virgil turned to Scott and found his brother startled awake, likely by his own snore.

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do I need to pick you up and carry you?”

“I’m fine.” He waved Virgil away, sat up straighter and attempted to guzzle whatever was left of his probably cold coffee.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

“I can manage my own health, thank you, Doctor Virgil.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I am an adult.”

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

Gordon let off a loud snort. “That’s it. I’m putting you two in as married.”

“Gordon!” Both of them, in chorus. It was apparently a theme tonight.

“Well, you both argue like an old married couple, what can I do?”

“You can shut up and move onto the next question.”

Gordon poked his tongue out at Scott, but he didn’t stop grinning and Virgil was forced to hold back a smile himself.

Bratty little fish.

He was still smirking when he said, “Employment.”

“Oh god.” Scott sank back onto the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

“Rocket surfing is not an occupation, Gordon.” Virgil sighed.

“Why not? Both Scott and Allie surf rockets.”

“Alan rides a rocket sled and Scott is just trying to give me grey hair.”

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

“So is International Rescue paid or unpaid work?” Gordon was frowning at the form.

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

“So are we unemployed, employed or self-employed?”

“Self-employed.”

“How much do you earn a year, Scotty?”

Their eldest brother paused as if calculating, but then threw up a hand. “Stuffed if I know.”

John snorted and rattled off a number.

“There isn’t enough space for that many zeros here, John.”

“Give me a moment.”

The display in front of Gordon flickered and each of their names received a variety of numbers…except for Alan.

“Hey, how come I don’t have any earnings?”

“You are a minor.” John spoke calmly, as if speaking to a minor.

“But I do stuff for Tracy Industries, I do.”

“All your income is held in trust, you know that.”

“Then who is paying for all that popcorn I bought this morning?”

Scott sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to bust the bank.”

“We own the bank.”

Scott stared at John. “When did we buy a bank?”

“I bought it for your birthday last year but forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m writing obscenely rich next to all our names. Oh, except for you, Allie. You’re a pauper.”

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

“Remember who might need to lend you money in the next couple of years…”

“While Gordon remembers who lent him money in the past, who still helps him with his finances, and who also is the one to fish him out of the ocean after every mission.” Virgil pinned Gordon with his eyes.

Gordon blinked. “You have a point.” A pause as a smile crept over his face. “Who was that again?”

The hologram of the census form wobbled as a lounge cushion flew through it and hit Gordon squarely in the face.

“Right on target. Hmm, I’ve still got it.” Scott blew imaginary smoke off a finger gun.

Unfortunately, Scott may have still had it, but he wasn’t the best marksman on this census form. The cushion rebounded via aquanaut and hit Scott squarely in the face with an oomph.

This forced both Virgil and Alan to come to his defence and for a full ten minutes after that, it was an all-out pillow fight between the brothers. Even John was drawn in as Gordon came up behind him and tried to stuff one down the back of his shirt.

Which wasn’t advisable since his gravity support was still in play. But then John was king of the noogie and immediately grabbed a head full of strawberry blond hair, dragged it down onto the couch beside him and made sure it received the full-on noogie treatment.

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

An extreme one-on-one joust erupted between Scott and Alan. It was that determined that Virgil had to back out. Alan, being the terrier he was, managed to get Scott on his back on the lounge and sat on him pummelling him with pillows.

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

In any case, he had to find somewhere else to sit and tinker with his boot.

Eventually, Gordon found his way back to the census form. Scott was still on his back and apparently Alan had decided he preferred that his big brother stay that way by sitting on him and playing his computer game. Scott at least had a remaining cushion under his head, but one foot had taken out a pot plant and the other was hanging over the back of the sofa. His brother really was too tall for lying on the seating arrangements, but he didn’t seem to care.

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

“Okay, let’s finish this. How did you get to work today?” Gordon grunted. “This form has no rockets, planes, submarines or space elevators on it.”

“Tick the ‘other’ box and let them work it out.” John let out a yawn.

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

“Hey, Virg, how many hours did you work last week?”

That distracted him enough to turn to Gordon. “How the hell do I know?”

“You worked them. I bet you know your flight hours.”

“Today’s. Not last week. That was last week.”

“Eos, send Gordon last week’s record?”

The AI chimed in at her father’s request. “Yes, John.”

Another document appeared in front of Gordon. “Wow, that much? Really?”

“The documentation is correct as recorded.” Eos sounded a little miffed. But then she never particularly liked Gordon on the best of days.

His fault, of course.

“Virg, you win, but only by a bit over Scott and that was because he twisted his ankle on Monday.”

“Sprained, you mean.”

“Twisted.” It came from the couch and was strangled by a little brother.

“Sprained. He should have been off for several days, but he’s an idiot.”

“You can’t talk, Mr Bruised-not-cracked.”

“At least I’m not Cracked-not-broken.”

“Sure.”

Scott might have said more but Alan whacked him with a pillow. “You guys are idiots. Gords, John and I are lucky our grey hairs don’t show.” Alan growled. “I’m sixteen, for crying out loud, and I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to. Look after yourselves, you morons.”

Silence hit the room again.

“Way to go, Allie. You tell ‘em.” Gordon’s words were honest.

Of course, Scott was devastated and immediately questioning all his life choices. Virgil wasn’t far behind, but Scott, in particular had a sensitive spot where Alan was concerned.

“Hey.” He reached out a hand and rested it on their little brother’s arm. “Talk to me, Allie.”

Alan growled again. “I’m fine as long as you two look after yourselves. We kinda need you, you know.”

Scott grabbed his little brother and dragged him down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil sat with his boot in his lap needing to grab both his brothers but not wanting to interrupt their moment.

He shouldn’t have worried. A second later Gordon jumped over the back of the couch, landed beside him and grabbed him, dragging him sideways into an oomph of a hug. “Don’t worry, my dear wingman, we still love you even if you are an idiot.”

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further, but he did squeeze tighter.

“When you get to the questions on whether any of us looked after children, Gordon, tick yes for all of us.” John’s tone was as dry as a desert.

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

Scott actually fell asleep after that. It was about time. Apparently, Alan made a great teddy bear.

Alan grumbled about that for days, but Virgil knew his little brother treasured his relationship with Scott and the fact he fell asleep as well was rather telling.

But that fact pretty much ended the census form filling for that night.

The next morning saw all of them out on an earthquake and it wasn’t until two days later that Gordon realised they hadn’t submitted the form.

Grabbing Scott and Virgil, he ran them through the last of the questions, landing on the definitions of their dwelling.

“How many registered motor vehicles do we have at this dwelling?”

“Er, none? We have no roads.” Virgil frowned at the obvious answer.

“Three rockets, two planes and a submarine don’t count?”

An arched eyebrow. “Does it say anything about planes? Tracy Two and Three are registered in Aotearoa.”

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

Scott sighed. “Read the form properly, guys. It says exclude heavy vehicles.”

“Well, that strikes Virg off the list, but your ‘bird’s a pansy.”

That earned Gordon a mocking whack up the back of the head.

“Gords, just write zero. The intent is there.”

“Fine. We have no motor vehicles. Stupid form.” A sigh. “Okay, how many bedrooms do we have?”

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“One went to an art studio and the other to a music recording room.”

Gordon glared at Virgil. “Way to take over the house, bro.”

“And how many fish tanks do you have in how many rooms? Not to mention the chunk of vegetable garden we had to sacrifice for Rover’s pond?”

“Leave Rover out of this. That wasn’t his fault.”

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

Scott sighed again. “We have ten bedrooms.” He scanned the rest of the form, which thankfully wasn’t very long. “We own the place outright, and yes, they can archive our information for our grandkids to access. Tick the boxes and get this sent so I can go get some lunch.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

“This form has already been submitted. You may not submit it again.” Underneath was the date of the day before census night. “What the hell? How could we open it if - ” Scott hit his comms. “John!”

John’s hologram flickered up beside the misbehaving census form. “I’m between a hurricane in Bermuda and an avalanche in the Pyrenees. How may I help you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, the census form. Eos submitted that three days ago.” Their space brother was distracted a moment out of pick up range as Scott’s jaw dropped. “Needed to get it done before Gordon got his hands on it. Besides, we can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have been called out anyway, so I got it done beforehand.”

“Then why the hell were we going through the damned thing on census night?”

John blinked. “You had fun, didn’t you? We shared an evening together.”

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

The astronaut just smirked back at them. “You did a great job, Gordon. Thanks.” The smirk turned into a grin. “Thunderbird Five out.” His hologram disappeared.

Scott’s face curdled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop and sighed. “You said that last time he did something like this, and he’s still kicking.”

“I’m soaking his underwear in saltwater.” Gordon had that fire in his eyes that usually preceded a Tracy Island Armageddon.

“Gords…”

“He played me, Virg. He knew what I would do and played me. He thinks I’m predictable!”

“Yeah, but he obviously did it for the right reasons.”

Virgil found himself the target of two glares. “What? You want a group hug or something? C’mere.” And he grabbed the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. “Happy Census Night.”

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-

[boygirlmeetsworld]

Nightmares.

ONE-SHOT(Maybe)

Word Count: 1414

Disclaimer: One Piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warnings: None.

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: I was thinking about how luffy absolutely for sure has ptsd from his insane childhood & how he probably deals with nightmares from time to time bc of it. i like to hc that he goes to cuddle with various crew mates when he’s having a really hard night; and that he started doing it bc of the very first night he and zoro spent in the boat together so I wrote about it, lol. 

this is mostly from zoro’s pov & honestly now that I’m writing this post I might make this a series alternating between luffy’s pov and the rest of the straw hats when he comes to them for comfort bc I love writing cuddle fics. we’ll seeeeee.

Summary: Zoro’s not used to comforting people, but for his captain? He could learn to be. 

—————————————————————

Lost somewhere in a foggy dream land, Zoro woke when he was startled by what sounded like soft cries drifting into his left ear. ‘What the hell?’ 

Cracking one groggy eye open, the swordsman turned his head in Luffy’s direction to find him thrashing side to side with his arms thrown over his face like he was defending himself. 

Were they under attack? He sat up to get a better look but he didn’t see anyone else in their boat. ‘So Luffy… Was still asleep? Should he try to wake him up?’

“Oi, Luffy! Wake up, you’re just dreaming.” 

He must not have spoken loud enough because Luffy didn’t react. Instead, he started twisting even more violently to the point that the boat rocked with him. It sounded like he was mumbling the phrase, “I won’t tell you,” over and over again but Zoro hadn’t the faintest clue why.

“Luffy! Wake UP!” Zoro tried again, this time louder, and when that didn’t work he swore. ‘The hell else was he supposed to do?!’ He had to put a stop to this before Luffy capsized the both of them.

Without many other ideas, or options really, he decided to plant one of his knees on either side of Luffy’s thighs, trapping them. Then he reached down and grabbed one of the rubber boy’s wrists in each of his hands, pinning them to his chest and pressing his whole torso against the bottom of the boat.

“Snap out of it Luffy, you’re havin’ a nightmare!”  To his great relief, Luffy’s eyes finally fluttered open but his pupils were like pinpricks, his breathing erratic, head whipping around like he wasn’t sure where he was. 

When his eyes landed back on his first mate, Zoro noticed how his pupils dilated back to their normal size. “Zoro..?” He managed to slow his breathing as he looked up at him, slightly confused but considerably less scared. It was almost like recognizing Zoro’s face had been what calmed him down.

The pirate hunter heaved a quiet sigh, releasing Luffy’s wrists and sitting back on his heels a little, regarding the boy lying beneath him with something in his expression akin to sympathy. “Does that happen a lot?”

Luffy was quiet for a while, gaze sweeping off to the side like he was remembering something he didn’t want to. Stuck to his eyes were a layer of tears that made them sparkle like the stars above their heads. His voice was quiet when he finally did answer. “Sorta.”

That was troubling for more than one reason. Zoro furrowed his brows, concerned, arms moving to cross over his chest before he realized that he was still straddling the captain’s thighs. ‘Shit, fuck, whoops.’ 

Blood threatened to burn his cheeks as he quickly moved off to kneel next to him instead. This time he knotted his arms together because he was self-conscious.

Luffy didn’t seem to think anything of it as he sat up and hugged his shins to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He looked so… Tired, and small. 

A stark contrast from the fearless captain that had leapt in front of a flurry of bullets to save him from execution without thinking once. It hurt his heart to see Luffy like this. ‘But what could he possibly do to help?’

“Is there… Anything that’ll make them stop?”

“Well…” Luffy knit his brows together as he thought for a moment, looking in Zoro’s direction. “It never happens when I sleep with someone.”

Zoro stared back at him with slightly narrowed eyes for several seconds.

‘He couldn’t possibly be talking about sex, right? There was no way. Did -- Luffy even know what sex was? Never mind - he must have meant literally sleeping next to somebody else.’

“What, so like… Cuddling?”

“I guess, yeah.”

He was blinking so innocently over at Zoro that the swordsman felt his heart wrench like he’d been stabbed. “…Why cuddling?”

“Dunno. Just makes me feel more safe.”

There was no reason that he couldn’t do that for his captain. None that weren’t rooted in machismo ideals about when/how it was appropriate to comfort or be affectionate with other men, at least. 

“I…” He began and then hesitated, glancing anywhere but directly at Luffy. ‘Why was his pulse spiking like this? What the hell was he so nervous about? Knock it off, idiot.’

Zoro bit the inside of his cheek to punish himself for being so out of control of his own body. Hard as he tried he just couldn’t keep his face from turning red as he spoke. “I’ll sleep with you, Luffy. If it’ll make you feel better.”

If he noticed him blushing his captain didn’t comment, but he did lift his head into a slight tilt. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, you know.”

“Of course I know that, dumbass,” Zoro dragged a hand through his hair, his face burning even hotter than he thought it could. He started to chastise himself for being so stupid and embarrassing but then Luffy smiled at him. 

Not the wide grin he tended to give out during the day, though. This one was smaller, less in his mouth and more in his eyes. Zoro calmed almost instantly, the tension leaving his shoulders and untying his knotted stomach. ‘Why did Luffy’s smile make him feel so light and sunny every single time?’

“Okay,” he seemed relieved, like the offer had been exactly what he needed, “Thanks Zoro.”

Zoro heaved a heavy sigh when he was sure that most of the blood had drained from his cheeks, looking back at his captain with feigned irritation. “Shut your mouth.”

Luffy giggled, beaming with both eyes scrunched up as Zoro stretched out beside him, placing both hands behind his head. Then he moved to join his first mate, draping an arm across his torso and tangling one of his legs with his. His head settled onto Zoro’s chest, cheek pressed right over the space where his heart pounded quicker than its owner would like to admit.

“Night Zoro.” Luffy mumbled fondly, eyelids slipping closed as he nuzzled his forehead against one of Zoro’s collarbones.

‘Damnit. He was too goddamn cute for his own good.’ Zoro bit the inside of his cheek again, gazing silently up at the dark clouds shifting above his head and wondering why on earth he’d just referred to Luffy as cute. That wasn’t a word men were supposed to use to describe each other...

But for fuck’s sake, he was cute. He was fucking adorable. He was like a little kid that needed Zoro to protect him -- and he could do that. He would do that. He would do anything if it meant keeping Luffy safe. 

“Yeah,” Zoro murmured after a while, folding one of his arms securely around Luffy’s waist and pulling him in till the top of his head was nestled under his chin, “Night, captain.”

Luffy hummed back softly. A few minutes later he was snoring peacefully while the swordsman’s eyes remained trained on the rapidly thinning clouds. 

Somehow in the span of just a day this.. kid had become the most important person in his life and Zoro refused to let death take him like it had taken Kuina. He hadn’t been there to catch her when she fell -- but he would be there for his captain. He vowed to himself and the stars winking down at him that he would always protect Luffy. 

If he fell Zoro would catch him. If he was thrown into the sea, Zoro would dive after him without even thinking once. If he was captured Zoro would break him free or he would die trying.

He felt Luffy shifting against his side and at first Zoro thought he might be having another nightmare -- but then he just snuggled closer and buried his face in his neck. ‘So fucking precious.’  A small smile pulled at his mouth that he didn’t fight off.

Holding Luffy felt nice. No, it felt really nice. It gave him a sense of purpose and made him feel needed, wanted. The only other time he felt something remotely similar to this was when he got his hands on expensive sake -- but this feeling was so much better. Maybe... It was okay to relish in it for a while.

If only under the cover of night where it was just him, his captain, and the nearly endless sea.

[writersrealmbts]

Cruise

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For the Boating prompt.  A summer cruise as a translator for world-famous band BTS: what could go wrong? WELL, the zombie apocalypse. In the middle of the ocean, are you safe? Or is there danger lurking in the deep?

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence (especially after the third content break), mild language? (I can’t remember if there’s language or not but I’ll tag it)

Posted: 06/11/2021

Tags: Zombie apocalypse au, Yoongi x reader

Angst?: 8,342 words

A/N: Oh look, another zombie au. 

The engine was idling.

The radio was on, and everyone was listening to the broadcast in silence. The horror was slowly growing in your stomach.

“The country is overrun, we’re broadcasting from a locked room, and we aren’t certain how much longer we can hold out…how much longer we’ll be safe. We’ve had news from several other countries reporting the same conditions. They’re mindless, react to movement…don’t like bright lights…most active starting at dusk all the way through dawn. Don’t let them injure you. They hid the mutagen in vitamins and supplements. Whatever you do…don’t ingest anything from Biogene International.”

You swallowed hard, hugging yourself as background sounds of other voices and banging echoed through the radio

“Oh God, they’ve found us,” The radio announcer murmured. “I guess this is it. If you’re isolated from infestations, I suggest you stay isolated. Cut off the heads. And enjoy this last song by Andy Lange. God save us all.”

The radio started playing ‘Not Sure Yet’, and you just listened to it as your heart broke.

They finally ruined the world.

And you weren’t with your friends and family when it happened.

You were with your stupid ex-boyfriend that you’d just broken up with, the staff of the ship that hired you as an extra translator for the last group—a kpop group and their staff that were filming a vacation show of some sort.

And you’d have to be born under a mountain of rocks to not know that the kpop group was BTS, and in any other situation you’d be excited about helping them as a semi-casual fan of theirs.

But right now you really hated them, and their choice of this ship that employed your ex-boyfriend—even if you’d been the one to get him that job.

“So,” The spoken-of devil murmured, coming to stand next to you. “Sounds like the world is actually ending.”

You took a deep breath, because everyone could hear, and were subtly watching.

“Changes a lot of things doesn’t it?”

“Except one.”

“What?”

You turned to him. “I still would rather die alone than live my life with you.”

He sputtered, but you didn’t stay to listen to him try to argue with you, turning off the radio since it had turned to static and going to the other translator.

“Do they know?”

He nodded gravely. “They’re trying to check on their families.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” You told him, bowing slightly to the other staff and the boys before going over to some of the other crew. “How much food do we have?”

“Maybe enough for a week,” The cook, Lori, answered. “If I ration.”

“Do it. Same with water?”

“We should have two weeks, more if we cut back on showers, mopping, other excess water usage,” The first mate said, staring out at the horizon. “Hopefully by then we’ll know if there’s a safe port. The captain went to try and radio as many other ships as possible.”

“We should make sure none of that Biogene stuff is on the ship,” One of the engineers said.

The first mate nodded, quickly moving. “Everyone! We need to make sure that there are no Biogene products on this vessel. Please go check all of your pills and supplements, anything that could be pharmaceutical or…just check everything!”

You translated quickly, then went to check your own things. You didn’t have much that could be from that company, but you checked absolutely everything just to be sure.

Then you went to help the staff and band just in case.

They weren’t coming up with anything, so you headed for the captain’s cabin just to see if there were any more plans at that point.

Captain Cobden Alby was an elder man, who tended to become an Uncle, Brother, or Grandfather figure for anyone who’d let him look out for them. You knew him relatively well, because he’d looked out for you when you started working with his tourism company, helping foreigners book trips with him and accompanying them on trips to help out. You’d worked with him for the past three years, and he’d been kind enough to hire your then boyfriend when he needed a job—though you now understood his reluctance. You wished he’d been more reluctant.

“Well, y/n,” Cob sighed. “Guess this is a new chapter. Any ideas?”

“Islands will gain control more quickly, I think, and there are a couple uninhabited islands we might be able to land at if we get desperate. We have nets, so we can fish if we have to. And if we start getting stills set up now, we can provide ourselves with more water. Revert to basic survival, I think.” You chewed your lip. “But if we’re going to use an uninhabited island, I think we should find one and stick around it, because people are going to try and escape by boat and they might bring it with them. The likelihood of the messages and warnings reaching everyone is slim.”

He sighed and nodded. “Our passengers?”

“Scared. But everyone is checking for the products to dispose of them, as you know, and they’re trying to contact their families back in Korea.”

“Have you tried your family?”

You stared out at the water. “I’m afraid to.”

He nodded again, looking grim. “I’ve heard from a couple other ships. We’re going to have issues with food at some point, so the island idea might be good. Maybe we can work with the other ships as long as they stay uninfected to build a sort of safe-haven?”

“Maybe,” You agreed. “We’ll be breaking laws if we land on some of the islands though. Or fish near them. They are wildlife refuges right now.”

“Hon, I don’t think that’s as big of an issue as of yesterday,” Lori said, shutting the door. “We can respect the wildlife. It would only be temporary, right? I mean, things have to stabilize sometime, and I think the islands should stabilize more quickly.”

You didn’t have very high hopes for the islands stabilizing, unless they were able to quickly regulate who came in and out of the populace of Hawaii. But people were creative and there were thousands of boats and planes in existence.

“Alright, so we’re going to go near the closest uninhabited, and weigh anchor, just for safety. But we’re not going to do anything on the island or any fishing until absolutely necessary. We’ll get some water stills set up, and start rationing the food. Try to preserve some fruits, Lori.”

She nodded. “You got it, Captain. But you better get someone else on those stills. Not my division, you know.”

“I’ll get our engineer on it. Dobby will need to be distracted anyway. Y/n, you should go tell our passengers the plan for now.”

“Right. First, I want a thank you.”

“For?”

“Convincing you to invest in some backup solar power for the ship to run things like the radios.” You paused at the door. “How long can the engines run?”

“I made sure we had enough to last us a couple of months, and I’ve got us going slow to reduce consumption. But we’ll have to start thinking about how to move once we run out, which is why I think your idea for the islands is a good one. The ship would be a safety point, and we could use the life-boats to get back and forth. At least until we have some sort of relief. And we might be able to go somewhere before we run out of gas. You never know. This might blow over quickly.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You went out to check on the idols and their staff again.

They had gathered in the dining lounge, and everyone was double checking each other to make sure that there weren’t any Biogene products.

“Everyone, I’ve just finished talking to our captain, and he’s asked me to tell you our current course of action,” You started, gathering the idols and staff’s attention to explain things. “We’ve communicated with some other ships, but our current course is to head for an uninhabited island and keep to the coast of that. We have the supplies to fish, and our cook is currently working on preparing the food for rationing. Our top engineer is going to work on making sure we have a constant source of drinkable water, but for now we’re reducing our water usage. We’re scanning the radio frequencies to try and find another source of information for what’s going on out in the world, but right now it’s very quiet. We ask for your cooperation as we continue to approach these problems calmly and rationally, and your patience as we try to figure things out.”

“Is food an issue?” Seokjin asked.

You shook your head. “Not at the moment, we’re just trying to make sure it lasts as long as possible, especially our fruits and vegetables. Anything in the kitchen that we can regrow here on the ship, we will attempt to do so. The ship was stocked for at least a hundred passengers, plus the crew, and since we don’t even reach sixty with the passengers and crew combined, we should be able to hold out for a while, we’re just trying to make our food last as long as possible, which is why we will likely be utilizing the fishing nets, so we can eat and still prepare for the future. Because we have had warning, we have time to prepare for the worst, but we are still hoping for the best. We are not giving way to fear. At the moment, all we’re asking is that you remain calm and patient with us.”

That seemed to be agreeable for everyone, so you bowed a bit and then went to check in with the other translator and manager to find out what you could do to help.

Yoongi intercepted you. “Hey, sorry, I know you’re busy.”

“It’s fine, how can I help you?”

“Um, actually, I was going to ask if there was anything we could do to help? It’d be…hard to just ignore the situation.”

“I understand, unfortunately, at this moment, we’re not even certain what we need to get done. When we do, I will let you know if there is any way for you to help. For now, we have solar power that you can continue to use for charging your phones, just in case you get a call from your families, and we can power the lights. Any extra batteries, try to save them.”

He nodded. “Okay. Shouldn’t they turn of the air conditioning then?”

You shook your head. “That would be inviting trouble. People get less rational when they overly warm or cool. Turning it off would reduce morale.”

He considered it, then nodded. “Okay.”

You nodded as well, then moved on to talk to their managers.

You didn’t sleep that night, helping in the kitchen and mulling over different ideas to try for powering the boat. In theory, with the engineers’ help, you might be able to convert the engines to wind power, or at least move the boat using wind power, if you were careful enough. But where would you get the parts?

And theoretically, some of the fruits and veggies and other things could be regrown.

But what would you grow them in?

Lori had some sitting in a shallow tray of water to start sprouting, and some would continue to grow in just water, but others would need soil.

“Wake up, hon,” Lori said gently, patting your back. “Cap’n wants you. Something on the radio he wants you to hear.”

You rubbed your eyes as you forced yourself up. “How long was I…?”

“An hour,” She said in a scolding tone, giving you a look of disapproval. “A young thing like you needs regular sleep. I could have done that in the morning.”

You shrugged. “My mind wouldn’t shut off. You were awake. Like you said, I’m younger.”

“You tried calling your family?”

You shook your head. If they hadn’t tried to contact you, then there would be no point in trying to contact them. Either the call wouldn’t go through, or there was no one to make the call. Or they just weren’t able to call because they had no means or it was too dangerous. Any way you looked at it, it was safer to allow them to try and contact you. They knew you were on a ship, and your father studied epidemiology, so he would know that the ship would either go down quickly or not at all, barring a few statistical outliers.

Your father always called you a statistical outlier.

“Here, take this up with you, find a spot where it won’t get knocked over that gets some sun and some shade. Okay?”

You nodded, taking the tray up with you.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called, waving.

You nodded your greeting to him and the others, trying to pinpoint a good spot for it, finally finding it on a table that was bolted to the wall.

“Is this what we’re regrowing?”

You jumped a bit, turning to the boys with a hand over your heart. “Um, yes. One of the trays, anyway. We’ve got more down there, but they aren’t full yet so…this is the first one to come up for sunlight.”

“Cool,” Taehyung whispered.

Yoongi looked it over. “It…doesn’t look like much.”

You sighed. “I know. But like I said, if all goes well, these should regrow and we’ll just start the process over again. But I’ve been summoned.”

“Summoned?”

“Y/N to the Bridge, Y/N, please report to the bridge.”

You pointed up at the speakers.

“Oh, and maybe bring one of the representatives with you.”

You sighed. “Um, know where your managers are?”

They all shook their heads.

“I could come,” Yoongi offered.

You considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, only to save time though, I’m not going to be the one to get in trouble—got it?”

He nodded, gesturing for you to lead the way.

Cob glanced up when you came in. “You’ll love this. Hey, Johnny, I got my person here, mind repeating that now?”

As Johnny started retelling his tale, you slowly processed and translated for Yoongi.

“They were near one of the islands of Hawaii, and sometime in the night they started hearing noises against the hull of the ship…” You paused, horrified. “The creatures…they can survive in the water, and swim. He lost three people when some of the creatures managed to climb aboard.”

Yoongi looked just as grim. “So we’re not safe, even on a ship away from shore?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. “He says he’s going to see how far away from shore they’re able to follow him. That will help us determine how safe we may or may not be.”

Cob thanked Johnny, then turned to the two of you. “Well, what do you think? Do we tell the others of this possibility, or keep it quiet?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that either. There were pros and cons for both sides. But there were more cons for—

“We don’t tell them,” Yoongi said firmly.

You met his gaze and nodded, translating. “It would just incite panic. We don’t tell them until we know that it is a possibility, and even then, we wait until we’ve calculated when they could reach us.”

Yoongi nodded his agreement.

Cob sighed. “Right. You’re right. I just….”

“Take a break. That’s what Jones is for, so you can take breaks. They’re most active between dusk and dawn, right? Then for now, we just slowly make our way to the proximity of an island, Jones can do that.”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, he’s on his way, just wanted to try his brother one more time.”

You nodded, then signaled for Yoongi to head for the door. “I’m checking back in half an hour and if you’re still here, I’m kicking heads.”

Cob snorted, but didn’t respond further.

Yoongi sighed outside, leaning against the railing. “This is really bad.”

“Really, really bad,” You agreed, leaning next to him. “You okay to keep this from your bandmates?”

He nodded. “I’ll just say that he asked for a representative agreement from our party that he should head for the nearest uninhabited island, as a formality, obviously.”

“Sounds good. And I was there as a translator.”

“What name would you give these creatures?”

“Based on description? The only word I can think of is in English.”

“And?”

“Zombies,” You offered, giving him an apologetic look.

But he nodded. “That’s what we were saying last night. Jungkook said it first, I think we were all afraid of saying it, but he likes watching those kinds of movies, so it wasn’t surprising that he named it first.”

“But watching movies about it isn’t exactly preparation for the real thing,” You whispered, staring out at the ocean. You usually loved going out on trips like this, even if you were just a translator. This time, though….

“Part of me wishes we’d never come on this trip, but part of me is glad that we did.”

“I understand that,” You whispered. “There are a lot of things that I wish. There are a lot of regrets I could have about this.”

“Y/n!”

You closed your eyes. “Speaking of regrets.”

Your ex came over, half-glaring at Yoongi. “This guy bugging you?”

“No, but you are,” You replied, rolling your eyes and pushing away from the railing, walking toward the stairs. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were holding up okay—”

“Well, I am. There’s no need for you to check on me. I’m doing just fine. Please, don’t check on me again. You do your job and I will do mine,” You snapped, turning to glare at him. “I told you, I have no regrets breaking up with you, and even if I knew the future, I would do it again, and probably sooner.”

“Whoa, no need to be so hostile babe!”

“‘Babe’?” You sneered, resisting the urge to shove him over your shoulder and down the flight of stairs. “You never have, and never will be allowed to call me ‘Babe’.”

“Chill out!”

Yoongi pushed past him and grabbed your wrist, pulling you down the stairs after him while rambling in rapid korean about it being dangerous to fight on stairs and ‘that’s how people get murdered’ and ‘unless that was your plan, which I would vouch for you, but I’m not sure who would believe it’ with an added ‘besides, there are a few witnesses’.

Damn was that hot.

No.

Wait.

Yes.

No. No, no. No, no, no.

He was someone you were working for, he wasn’t allowed to be hot.

And his hand definitely didn’t feel strong and sinewy and attractive.

“Don’t walk away when we’re talking!”

Your hold on Yoongi’s hand tightened.

“Ignore him, come with me. Our security team will block him,” Yoongi said, not looking back. “We have a head start, unless he starts running after us. Why did you break up with him? I mean, I get it, but what was the main reason?”

“Cheating, threatening, trying to emotionally manipulate me,” You listed, doing your best not to look back.

“Figures.”

You could see that the heading of the boat was changing, even as you and Yoongi made your way down to where the other boys and their staff were waiting.

“Block the guy following us,” Yoongi called to the security team as both of you passed by them. “He’s letting the panic get to him.”

The security team easily blocked your ex, and Yoongi led you straight to the poolside.

Namjoon came over quickly. “Any news?”

“Nothing new. Just needed a formal agreement to their plan from someone in our party.”

Jungkook dropped onto a seat nearby. “Any new information about the zombies?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Same as before, I think.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “And what is it that we do know?”

“The mutagen makes people into crazed killers, who don’t like bright lights and can only be stopped by cutting off their heads. Strong mutants that can only be stopped by cutting off their heads, and appear to be decaying. I think the mutagen might stimulate muscle growth while suppressing the nervous system. If I’m understanding things correctly, anyway.” You hesitantly sat down, wondering if that would be okay.

“I don’t know exactly what that means,” Jungkook replied, looking a little lost but curious.

“Well, we know that they’re significantly stronger, but their response to injuries is non-existent. Our nervous system is responsible for sending signals to the brain,” You explained, still thinking it through yourself. “Because it isn’t functioning the way it’s supposed to, maybe the pupils aren’t contracting, or something which makes them more sensitive to light.” But that still didn’t explain how they could survive in the water like they did.

“That makes sense,” Yoongi agreed. “I mean, for me, not knowing that much about the human body.”

“Same, but I remember some things, enough to try and puzzle it out, I guess,” You replied, shrugging a bit and looking around. “I should see if there’s anything I can do.”

“Sleep,” Yoongi said. “You should sleep. You look exhausted. I’ll walk you to your cabin so that jerk can’t ambush you.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way—”

“It’s fine. You’re our designated liaison between the crew and us. It’s important that you’re safe so that we can continue knowing what is going on without pestering the crew.”

That reasoning was fair, and you appreciated it.

But also, you could see it causing issues.

“Come on, I want to make sure you at least go into your room. You should sleep, you look exhausted, and we know that the zombies aren’t going to attack while it’s this sunny out.”

You squeaked slightly as he pulled you up and after him.

But you didn’t fight him on it.

“Which way is your room?”

You quietly gave him directions, following until he reached your door and then tugging lightly on his hand to get his attention before he kept going. “This is it.”

He glanced over the door and nodded. “Right. Okay. Try to sleep, okay? We’re pretty far away from any major population so it should take a while for any zombies in the water to reach us, if they even can. We know they can go some distance, but not how far that distance is. So, rest. We’re going to have to be more alert at night anyway.”

You nodded. “You try to rest too. It’s easier to lie when you’re well-rested.”

He looked a bit grim at that. “Right. Good point. Good thing I’ve always been one to rest when possible.”

You unlocked your door and started in, stopping when he gently caught your upper arm.

“Hey, thank you, again, for everything you’re doing. I know you probably feel guilty because you sold us this package and now we’re all here, but you have no idea how grateful we were to have a ship like this essentially to ourselves.”

You shrugged. “You were booking in the off-season. We were lucky anyone was looking for a ship to commandeer.”

He smiled. “Whatever you say. Sleep well, y/n.”

You watched him walk away for a while, then slowly closed the door, once more pushing down thoughts of how attractive your client was.

———

The first zombie crawled onto the ship during a storm.

You had been eating with all of the guests, looked out the window and did a double-take. “Dobby! Come here.”

Dobby, the head engineer, politely excused himself and came over to join you at the window. “What is it?”

You pointed. “Stern, crawling over the railing.”

He squinted as he tried to see, flinching as lightning flashed—but gasping a bit as he spotted the zombie.

“Everyone is accounted for, right?”

“Right. Okay. Show-time, I guess. Bernie! Clyde! Time to get the lights on and try and decapitate a creature!”

You kept scanning the ship to check for anything else. “Someone tell the captain!”

“Yes, miss,” Clyde called.

Yoongi joined you, looking out. “Guess we know how long it takes for a zombie to swim to us.”

“Yup. Seven days. But it looks weaker than I expected. Maybe it is physically tiring?” You folded your arms, wincing as the floodlights turned on.

It was hideous. It looked like a human, but the skin looked like it had been boiling, and the eyes were strange—the irises almost black, and far too large, to easily noticeable from the distance. It’s jaw seemed unhinged, the mouth hanging open and not moving at all as a guttural screech emanated from it.

“No wonder people are so terrified,” Yoongi whispered.

“I’d like to wake up now,” Hoseok whispered behind you.

“Let’s get to safety, everyone,” You said softly. “Head down into the hallway. Just like we practiced.”

The soft noises of activity soon followed, everyone hearing you in their horrified silence, and moving to act as you had all practiced in the evacuation drills that had started four days ago. There were about eight different contingencies and several ranks of command.

Yoongi’s hand slid around yours, fingers locking around your fingers, and he squeezed your hand slightly. “Assuming it’s contagious. How long do you think we can hold out against the majority of the population of the world being zombified?”

“I think we’re lucky if we last a month like this,” You replied quietly. “We have little fortification, a few sporadic ships that may or may not be able to provide us with help, and no signs of any government being able to assist those who have survived. We’re in a warmer climate, which probably isn’t helping, and we have no idea if this contagion can spread to or through animals.”

“And no way of finding out except through evidence.”

“Essentially,” You whispered, looking around the deck and checking the positions of the crew as they carefully surrounded the zombie to try and dispatch it—the storm not exactly helping matters. “Come on, Dobby.”

You both fell quiet as you watched the crew carefully, and successfully, dispatch the zombie, both breathing sighs of relief.

“The storm should let up soon,” Yoongi murmured.

You nodded, still watching the crew members to make sure they made it to safety.

A few minutes later the all-clear signal sounded over the P.A. system.

Yoongi tugged your hand lightly. “Come on. I need a break from everyone.”

“Then, go, I’ll cover for you.”

“Nah, I want you to come with me. You need a break from everyone’s expectations.” He squeezed your hand, and gently tugged you along.

“But, why do you want me with you?” You asked.

He huffed. “Because I do.”

“Okay,” You replied, still confused.

He led you to his cabin (which was one of the best) and locked the door. “So they don’t come barging in. They do that sometimes.”

You nodded, looking around the cabin casually, even though you knew what they looked like and had cleaned these rooms on more than one occasion.

“We were actually worried at first, because Hoseok gets seasick, but he’s being doing well. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that we’re on a ship.”

“And then a storm hits and you remember all of those movies and true stories about shipwrecks?”

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah. I don’t think I could face them all right now, especially since they’ll be figuring out that zombies can reach us out here. Let them think what they want about us not being around. Our video crew has been filming for posterity, and it’s exhausting. Who’s going to care about how we spent our days on this ship?”

“Well, if we survive, meaning the human race as a whole, I imagine one day they may use it to make a film about you,” You joked, watching the rain pelt the windows.

“You too.”

“Why would they care about an extra translator? No, I’d be cut out and replaced with a super-secret girlfriend love interest, who obviously is terrified and you would save her from the zombies, because the truth and accuracy are inconsequential, and what’s important is the story.”

“Not that you care,” He teased.

“No, never, why would I care. Like I said, I make for a boring story,” You waved it away. “Besides, their movie would probably have a better ending than what reality will give us.”

“Maybe not,” He whispered, also looking outside. “You’re looking at the worse situation, right?”

“Probably.”

“So, best situation is we’re able to survive. We get through this. We set up defenses and we help other people to defend themselves and join us in fighting against these zombies, and…yes, the world will be different, but it will still be here. I mean, there are people in all sorts of remote places in the world, and we hope they’ve been warned, but most of all, they’re there. They may be safe. And maybe some of the defenses of the different countries are still standing. Military bases, forts, bunkers…we have to believe that there is still hope out there. We just…don’t know how to gauge how much hope there is.”

You pulled out your phone, noticing that you still had a signal. Noticing that you had a notification. “We need to get you back to the other boys.”

“What?”

“Come on. We’re going to talk to your staff and get you set up for a live on YouTube.”

“You don’t really think that’s still—”

“I do.”

“Wait,” He pulled you to a stop and turned you toward him. “Explain.”

“You have over 50 million subscribers, and are one of the top boybands in the world. You go live, you might be able to help us figure out how many people are still out there. It might connect you guys back to your family. To the family of the staff. We might be able to get help with making our boat defensible, or we might be able to meet up with a naval vessel that has been unaffected. It’s a long shot, but any sort of chance is a chance we should take, right?”

His eyes widened, and he looked troubled, but he nodded. “Okay. Alright. But you should join us in the video as a proper translator.”

“No, you’ll be fine, we can write out a message for Namjoon to read or something. We can plan things out, what you guys say and all of that. If there are other people out there, members of army, maybe they could use a familiar face.”

He still held you in place. “Okay. Let me change.”

You nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

He nodded, but didn’t let go. “Hey, y/n?”

“Yes?”

He smiled softly. “If we were destined to get stuck on this cruise ship, I’m glad destiny chose you to be here too.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt too warm all over and you spluttered something out and darted out the door as your brain went into a complete meltdown.

“Playboy!” You mind screamed.

“Honeyboy!” Your fangirl screamed.

“BREATHE!” Your lungs shouted as you wheezed and slid down the wall of the hallway.

He came out a few minutes later, and looked at you slightly confused. “Um, why are you sitting on the floor? Did I take that long?”

“Nah, I’m just, you know, meditating,” You refused to meet his eyes because if you did you would start your freakout all over again. Stupid fangirl. It was the zombie apocalypse and all your brain was telling you was that he was glad you were there and he was looking at you and that he kept getting you alone and talking with you and….

And oh no. Oh no no.

Did he like you?

Zombies. Focus on the zombies.

He was holding your hand again.

Apparently, he’d messaged the other boys and they were already gathered and the staff were there setting things up, and you guessed the translator or Namjoon had told some of the crew what they were doing, because they were helping set up. And they were doing V-Live and YouTube at the same time.

You stayed behind the cameras with a small whiteboard to help when they got stuck and to give them further things to say in English to try and help.

You considered them having at least half a million views encouraging, but you could tell that even the BTS staff were disconcerted at the small number.

Eventually the boys were mostly just talking to continue it and reassure anyone that may be watching that for the moment they were safe, and that they hoped that everyone else was safe as well. That they hoped this would pass soon.

They talked about the food, Jungkook and Taehyung belted out a few bars of different songs at intervals, Hoseok did his best to be bright and hopeful, Seokjin and Jimin jokingly flirted with the camera, Namjoon made faces and cracked a joke or two, and Yoongi talked about the future. Yoongi talked about someday looking back on this, just as we look back, and being able to think of it as a historical event that the world conquered.

They had over four million viewers when they ran out of things to say and decided to end it.

“So, again, these videos are going to be posted as soon as possible, and we hope we can meet up with and help those who may be in similar situations, or maybe those who are trapped can get help through this. Even if we just brought a moment of happiness, we will find fulfillment in that. We love you, and hope to see you all again.”

Jungkook and Jimin were crying shortly after the cameras were off.

Hoseok hugged onto them, which prompted Taehyung to hug them as well.

Seokjin tugged the other two into their impromptu group hug.

You set aside the whiteboard and headed outside, the rain finally gone. It was lighter than before, and the sun was trying to peek through again. Not quite successful yet, but every here and there you could spot a beam of sunlight breaking through.

The waves were still pretty intense, but not as bad as they could have been given the storm.

And there were gulls.

Which meant the boat was close enough to a land mass that the birds could fly out.

You hurried up to the bridge, not bothering to ask permission. “How far are we from land?”

“Well, we’ve slowed down and drifted slightly off course, which may be a good thing, since that creature crawled aboard, but,” Cob gestured to the maps he was using. “According to radar and such, we should be able to see the island in about half an hour.”

“But if the zombie came from there, we could be in trouble.”

He grunted.

You sighed, staring out at the turbulent waters. “The island could only be so big, though, which means that if they did come from there, there couldn’t have been too many people there to begin with. Right?”

“Unless it came from one of the ships we were going to be meeting up with.”

“Are we going to die?”

“Not if I have any say in it.”

“Okay. Then we’ll circle around, do our best to fortify and defend the ship, and hope for the best.” You bit your lip. “Right?”

Cob placed an arm around your shoulders. “Take heart, lass. Do something fun, would you? It’s not the end of the world yet, and there’s plenty of daylight to be had. Why don’t you see if that cat-boy wants to go to the bush-whacked deck and splash some paint around. You can take the others there some other time, but he seems to help you lighten up.”

You were a little busy trying not to die from Cob calling Yoongi a cat-boy. “Yoongi. His name is Yoongi.”

“Right. Couldn’t recall. Lots of names to remember. But he reminded me of a cat. Not in a bad way—”

“I’m going to go paint in the bushwhack deck. Don’t expect anything pretty.”

“I don’t,” He laughed happily.

You weren’t sure you wanted to try and find Yoongi, so you resolved to go change into clothes you could paint in first.

“Hey.”

You jumped, squeaked, and lashed out—nearly missing Yoongi.

He looked at you with wide eyes, just sort of blinking while you processed everything that just happened.

“Hi. Sorry. Hi.” You covered your heart to make sure it was still inside of you.

“Where you off to?”

“Um, you know the deck that’s off-limits?”

He nodded, looking a little wary.

“That’s because it’s under renovation. So, the crew goes there to vent and get away from everyone else. So, I’m going to change into clothes that I don’t mind getting paint on, and I’m going to go have fun splashing paint on everything.”

“Ah.”

“Would you like to come with me?”

He glanced over to where the others were still gathered, contemplating it. “Just me.”

“You can tell them to sneak down at a later time.”

He nodded slowly, then more vigorously. “Okay. I’ll meet you down there in ten, and tell them to come down in an hour or something?”

“That works.” You smiled a bit. “See you there.”

He nodded again, leaned in and kissed your cheek, and then walked back toward the others.

Your brain short-circuited as you hurried to your room to change and go down to the deck to pull out the paint and brushes.

Yoongi didn’t say anything as he joined you, simply helped move the paints into the room you wanted to paint in. It was one of the rooms with windows, so it had some natural light. But it also still had a bed in it, so you had to cover that with the plastic tarps.

But Yoongi stopped you. “You rushed up to talk to the captain. What scared you?”

You shrugged slightly. “The seagulls.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Birds scare you?”

“The fact that they can only go so far from land without dying does,” You elaborated. “I just wanted to see if it was a fluke from a storm.”

“And?”

“We’re nearing the island. It will be visible in about an hour at the speed we’re going, which is the slowest speed possible.”

He nodded. “So the zombie may have come from there.”

“Possibly,” You whispered.

He swore, closing his eyes as he pulled you into a hug.

You froze for a moment, then relaxed into the hug, wrapping your arms around him as well.

“You wouldn’t be some insignificant side character, y/n,” He whispered. “You’d be the main character.”

“Yeah right,” You choked out.

He held you tighter. “You would. You definitely would. That would be the only way the movie would have any plot.”

He drew back, resting a hand on your cheek. “I would love to be your romantic interest in the movie too.”

“We’re facing the end of humanity.”

“Which is why it’s important,” He answered easily. “Which is why I want to tell you that I was interested in you from the day we met you on the docks. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and strong. Stronger than me, stronger than most people on this ship. Do you object to me being interested in you? The world has gone to hell, people won’t need a boyband when this is over. They’ll need farmers, builders, engineers, and families.”

“Families,” You repeated quietly.

He nodded, taking your hands. “Families. I can never leave the other boys, they’re my family, especially if my actual relatives….”

“I understand.”

“But…maybe we can live somewhere together. Near each other, but separated.”

“You understand I used to be an Army?” You double-checked.

He grinned, laughing. “Yeah. I knew it when you laughed at one of the jokes. Usually only army’s understand it. I think it’s sort of fitting.”

“I’ve got a concussion and I’m having a weird dream,” You said, closing your eyes because that was the only logical explanation.

Except he kissed you.

And dang was he a good kisser.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

You jumped, turning toward your fuming ex-boyfriend. “Oh my God, go away!”

“Take your hands off of my girl!” He bellowed at Yoongi.

YOongi frowned and pulled you closer. “What is he holding?”

You glanced down and realized it was some sort of pill bottle. “Oh my God…tell me those aren’t from—”

“It’s all a hoax, you’re doing this to try and torment me, right? I’ll prove my love for you is stronger than anything.”

“Don’t! Please don’t!” You started toward him, but it was too late.

You watched in horror as he downed several pills.

“There, see! I’m fine! It’s all a hoax so that these terrorists can take over!”

You choked a little. “You need to get those out of your system—now! Even if they don’t turn you, that’s enough to overdose!”

“I told you! I’m fine!” He yelled, but his voice had already started changing.

“We need to get out of here before he changes,” Yoongi whispered. “Windows?”

“Only if you want to go swimming,” You replied. “Grab the chair and throw it at him.”

“Uh….”

“Do it!” You ordered, hurrying to a paint can.

Your ex made an ungodly noise as the chair hit him and you were quick to follow, swinging the full paint can at his head with as much velocity as you could muster.

Yoongi grabbed your hand and both of you started sprinting away. “What do we do? If he goes up, he could run into any number of people?”

“We have to take care of it before he can fully change. We need a way to cut off his head.”

“I don’t suppose he’d hold still while we used a saw?”

“Probably not,” You answered, looking around as the two of you ran. Finally you spotted something useful. “Break in case of emergencies, right?”

Your ex made that ungodly screeching noise again, and his footsteps were unnaturally fast as they beat the ground behind you and Yoongi.

Yoongi hurried ahead and broke open the case with something he must have picked up, grabbing the ax.

You stopped to throw a piece of furniture in the zombie’s path, hoping it would slow him down or trip him up or anything that might give you the advantage.

The two of you darted upstairs after doing your best to block the door.

Then you took the ax. “Sound the alarm.”

He grabbed the handle of the ax. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leading him away from the crowd. We don’t have time to debate—”

He took it and started running. “Sound the alarm. He’s focused on me.”

You looked after him in horror, then quickly started running toward the nearest place you could trigger an alarm, ducking into a room so that the zombie wouldn’t see you, holding your breath.

Finally, you could hear it going after Yoongi.

You signaled the bridge then hurried after them, looking for anything that would help along the way.

Only to see Yoongi barely holding the zombie off, even in the bright sunlight.

You went barreling into it, all while your mind screamed at you and tried to tell you to stop.

Or maybe that was Yoongi.

But it gave Yoongi the space and time to swing the ax, catching the zombie’s neck and knocking it back.

You grabbed a lifebuoy and pushed it over his head, trapping his arms. “Finish him!”

And Yoongi did, though you both stared in horror at the by-product of your battle.

You met his gaze, swallowing hard. “Is this a dream?”

He reached out and pulled you away from the body. “We need to wash the blood off. Come on.”

You were shaking all over, so it was a miracle you managed to walk without tripping.

Dobby and the others hosed both of you down, making sure the water sprayed straight off the deck, then went to clean things while the Bangtan staff brought both of you towels.

“How did that get onto the ship in broad daylight?” Cob asked, hurrying up.

You looked up at him. “It was Charlie.”

“Charlie let it get on the ship?”

“No,” You answered, confused. “That thing…was Charlie. He had pills. Pills from Biogene.”

“You should have let me throw him overboard,” He muttered, petting your head, and then physically maneuvering Yoongi to check him over. “Good. You look unhurt. Wouldn’t want to cut your head off too.”

Yoongi was just a little stunned.

“Get them out of this wind!” Lori huffed, glaring at everyone and then ushering the two of you inside and out of the wind. “You need to get into dry clothing, come on. You, you’re one of his brothers?”

The boys all froze.

She gently shoved Yoongi toward them. “Make sure he gets changed and tuck him in. Marta! Get soup to both rooms.”

You didn’t object to her manhandling, just accepting it because Lori could take you if she put her mind to it, and she was right there ready to take you.

She bundled you in blankets after helping you change into dry clothing, scolded Marta for taking so long bringing the soup, and she force-fed you the soup.

When she had done that, you knew it was time to push a bit.

“I need to go talk to him,” You whispered, ignoring the trembling of your hands and the comforting call of your bed.

Lori looked you in the eye, evaluating you, then nodded. “Let me fix your hair.”

You nodded and let her work, not even checking her work before you and your blanket wrap were heading to Yoongi’s room.

His door was open, and the others were there, but he saw you, and he pushed himself up.

The others glanced over to see what had caught his attention, then seemed to all find an excuse to leave the two of you alone.

You wandered over to the bed as the boys left.

Yoongi looked up at you, eyes sad. “Are you okay?”

You shrugged, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. “I now know that my instincts to survive are strong enough to kill someone that I know once they’ve turned. So…I’m dealing with that.”

He shuddered and reached out, pulling you down into his arms. “We did what was necessary for the survival of everyone else on this ship.”

“How many friends are we going to lose because of all of this?”

He shook his head. “Let’s not go there.”

You turned your head into his shoulder, fighting back the tears. You had to separate moments out by mere seconds: him kissing you, a moment, and then your ex turning into a zombie. There was a moment in there, that you wished you could imagine was longer.

His fingers stroked your hair lightly, then rested on your back. “But you know…I think we’re going to be just fine. We definitely need more weapons, but I think we’ll make it.”

“You know something I don’t?”

He nodded. “While we were downstairs, a naval vessel contacted the captain. They’re about a day away from us.”

“They know the zombies can swim?”

“They do. And they’ve checked all quarters and removed all Biogene products. They had a small issue at the beginning, but they’ve got it under control now. They’re going to meet with us, and we’re going to work together. They had some civilians that they rescued, and not enough beds, so we’ll take some of their civilians, and perhaps some of their soldiers.”

“And the government?”

“It’s…sort of functioning. Multiple ones are functioning on a…mild capacity. Enough to try and organize their military to reclaim lands.”

“So, where are we being escorted?”

“I don’t know. That’s about all the information that was received, I guess. I’m sure we’ll find out more when we meet up. But…it’s good, right? That we’re able to meet up with a naval vessel?”

You nodded. “As long as we don’t get overrun by zombies tonight.”

“What a bright side,” He chuckled, lightly stroking your back. “Y/n.”

You relaxed at the gentle tone in which he said your name.

“Whatever happens, let’s make it through this together? I don’t have too many skills that are usable outside of music, but I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you?”

You peeked up at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. I might be relying on you, though.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “That’s fine. I can handle that. If you’re okay with me falling apart now and than.”

“I’ll try and hold you together,” He replied, squeezing you. “We’ve got a couple hours of daylight. Want to nap?”

You pushed yourself fully onto the bed and let him help you under the covers. “Yeah, okay. I could sleep.”

He smiled, taking your hand as you both lay on your sides, facing one another. “Sweet dreams, y/n.”

“Sweet dreams,” You whispered back, still studying him with your eyes half-closed.

If you could make it to safety, then spending your life with him would be great. Better than great.

“Don’t let the zombies bite,” He murmured, smiling slightly at the teasing, and the way you swatted him.

Then you let the subtle sway of the ship rock you into sleep next to the man you just might love.

[korroding]

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll smile at you honestly

Wow Koro another SatoKiyo fanfic? U r insane about them anyways @zurxmxru

Idc if the pacing’s all over the place late night thoughts gays best gays

It was a bright day, though a bit chilly. The bell rang, much to the pleasure of the student body — It meant that it was lunch time after all, providing them with a much needed break. One student, instead of mingling with their friends, went up to the roof for solitude.

Kiyo found solace up on the rooftop, where the only life was them and the flowers. And bugs. And birds. And just about millions of microorganisms. So maybe there was more life than they had initially thought. Perhaps they were focusing too much on the semantics? Ah, what a bother. In any case, they did enjoy their time alone. People are — could be, bothersome. 

They hummed in satisfaction as they plugged in their earphones into their phone, taking out their bento afterwards. What could be better than a peaceful lunch, listening to nothing but the music of μ's? Absolutely nothing. There is nothing better. They smiled as they opened up their bento. 

“Figures a loner like you would be up here.” Kiyo’s smile dropped and they shut their bento, a quiet sigh escaping them. They turned their attention to the intruder ( Is it truly an intrusion if it is in a public area? Ah, semantics ). 

It was none other than…that short blonde girl. What was her name again? The one they used to bicker with every now and then? Ya…Yama…Yamamato? Ah no, it was shorter than that…Yamato. Miss Yamato.

They must have been staring, because Yamato made that very clear. By poking their cheek. “Oi, didn’t you say you were more talkative around me or something?” And by saying that. Kiyo gently shoved Yamato’s hand away from their face. “I did not say that.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Yamato snorted. She set her school bag down and sat down besides them, crossing her leg over the other. “You were all like, ‘Oh but Satomi you’re the only one I don’t force myself to talk to’ or something like that.” Ah, right. While her wording was incorrect, their words could be interpreted in that way. She wasn’t entirely incorrect in her interpretation either; they did find some enjoyment in talking to her. She always had something to say back.

Begone, foul thoughts, for you are too much for Kiyo to handle at the moment. The cloud of thoughts disappeared as they sucked in a breath, then releasing it with a sigh. “Are you done yet?” Kiyo asked, their tone laced with disapproval — Where did Yamato get off on anyways, pestering them like this? They shoved their bento into their school bag, abruptly standing up. Soon after however, they were tugged back down by the arm.

An abashed Yamato looked at the ground as she pulled Kiyo back to their original spot. “Oi, sorry…didn’t know you couldn’t take it as well as you dish it. Just- I said we should hang out sometime, didn’t I?!” Demanded was more like it. “Now’s a good time as any! You’re a first year, aren’t you? There’s no telling when a chance like this will happen again!” 

She seemed insistent. It was quite odd, actually. Just a week ago, Kiyo would have been able to make a remark and leave. But now, there was somewhat of a mutual respect between the two. Kiyo did not feel like rocking the boat. They could be civil, and they will be right now.

“Why do you wish to ‘hang out’?” Kiyo asked, their curiosity getting the better of them. Yamato let go of their arm, and crossed her arms. “Does there have to be a reason? I just- Isn’t it enough that I’m up here with you? You seem like an okay person, so…I just thought it’d be nice to have lunch up here, just the two of us,” she said, trailing off at the end. Her voice raised to the same loud volume Kiyo known her for soon after. “Don’t take that the wrong way!” Yamato reached into her bag, pulling out an onigiri that she bit into. Her chewing was rather aggressive. 

“Did you seriously just say that?” Ah. They said it out loud. Yamato laughed a bit, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “You know, for someone who acts so cold, you sure don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.” 

Teasing. She was teasing them. They were being teased. Kiyo felt heat accumulate in their cheeks as they stared at Yamato. She set her onigiri down and practically stuck her face in theirs. Does she have no regards for personal space? “It’s kind of cute, you know?” What.

Kiyo scoffed, turning away from the girl. “First, I do not act ‘cold’. Second, I know when it’s best to keep to myself. Third-“ 

“So that means you think it’s a good idea to talk to me right now?”

They whipped their head around to face a grinning Yamato — By gods, she looked smug. She laughed as they stammered out an incoherent response. Yamato pulled away from  Kiyo with a shake of her head, going back to eating. “You know, I get why you’d want to come up here,” she said in between bites, “There’s only us two up here. It’s really peaceful.”

“It is,” Kiyo nodded. They said nothing after that. Yamato poked their cheek. “Hey, I can’t be the only one in this conversation. Talk to me, will you? Like…what do you do after school?”

“I go home.”

“What? You don’t even go to any clubs?”

“There is no need.”

“Well you do something at home, don’t you?”

“Not anything worth mentioning.”

“I- okay how about this, I’ll start since you clearly don’t know how to talk.”

Kiyo opened their mouth to speak, but was quickly shushed by Yamato. “So today I got up for school, right? I made breakfast and got changed, but you wanna know what happened to the breakfast?” she asked. Kiyo stared, waiting. “Well? Do you?” 

They squeaked before nodding. “Yes. What happened?” Yamato smiled, crossing her leg over the other. “It burned, because I forgot to turn off the heat. There wasn’t any time left to make more, so I just stopped by a cafè.” She snorted, before looking at Kiyo. “See? That was better than saying ‘My food burned’ or something, wasn’t it?”

“I…suppose I understand what you are trying to convey. Though the meaning would be all in the same, nevertheless.” A nudge on Kiyo’s arm directed their attention to Yamato. “You’re missing the point, but- actually, whatever. Just tell me about your day.”

“Erm…” Though hesitant, Kiyo still gave it some thought. What did they do today? It just seemed boring. “I woke up. I had breakfast with my brother as both Mother and…Mother were off at work.” Yamato furrowed a brow.

“Why do you call them like that? Isn’t it confusing?” She asked. Kiyo scratched their cheek, eyes wandering to the sky. “It is proper, is it not?” Yamato didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. 

“Yeah, but it’s still confusing. It’s okay to let loose around them, isn’t it? Or are you one of those uptight families?“ Satomi asked.

“No. I assure you that they- that we care about each other. I could refer to them in an…informal manner if I chose to.”

“Okay, then do it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just said that you could if you wanted. So do it.”

“Well I don’t see why I would-“

“Do you not want to?”

Kiyo stared for at Yamato with their mouth hung agape slightly. The two of them sat in silence, looking at each other. The uncomfortable silence was broken by Yamato. “Well?“

With a sigh, Kiyo responded. “Of course I want to, but that would imply that I was close to them.”

Yamato stared at them, seeming to be contemplating. She half chuckled, though there was an air of bitterness to it.

“Heh, figures. It’s the same thing with me too, y’know?”

Kiyo stared at her. Yamato put her leg down. “It’s weird to tell a stranger like you that kind of stuff, huh? You shouldn’t be telling me that kind of stuff either. I could you use it against you.”

“You would not.”

It was Yamato’s turn to stare. The silence was filled with Kiyo’s sipping as they drank from a bottle. She swatted the bottle, making it hit their bottom teeth. Kiyo put the bottle down, looking at her with a frown as they wiped their mouth.

“You can’t just say that with confidence, y’know? Somebody might get the wrong idea.” 

“I do not care.”

Yamato snorted. “You never do,” she mumbled just barely loud enough for Kiyo to hear, “I kind of admire that, actually. Must be nice, not giving a shit about anybody that doesn’t really matter.” She took a bite of her onigiri — Again, chewing aggressively. How odd. “Don’t take that the wrong way.”

Kiyo chuckled. “Ah, is my upperclassman really that embarrassed to compliment her underclassman?”

That got them a slap on the arm. “Shut up, you totally ruined the moment!” A smirk made its way onto their face.

“Moment? Is this the part where my dear upperclassman gives me a world-changing pep talk?”

Her face went bright red, like a tomato. She bared her teeth and her eyes were wide, and it would have been intimidating on anybody but her. Yamato was a cute kind of angry. It was comical really, if not at least a bit amusing. 

They slapped their hand onto their mouth, shaking as they laughed. Their eyes were scrunched, not allowing them to see the way Yamato’s anger disappeared from her face and replaced with a look of endearment. It took a moment, but they calmed down. “Apologies, apologies.”

“You’re such an ass, Kiyo. Laughing at my anger, really?” She harrumphed, brushing her hair away as she looked elsewhere. “But I guess it’s fine, since it was kind of cute.”

Kiyo raised an eyebrow, though their smile didn’t disappear. “Cute, Ms. Yamato? I’m hardly the one to be described like that. In fact, I think it better suits you.”

Yamato practically shoved her face in theirs. “I’m being serious though! You should laugh more often, maybe then people won’t think you’re so edgy.”

Kiyo hummed, leaning forward. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Ah. Their faces were rather close. They stared at each other in silence, neither moving.

The bell rang. They shot away from each other, both at opposite ends of the bench. Both began packing their things in a hurried manner, though it was still rather quiet.

As Kiyo turned towards the stairs’ entryway, Yamato grabbed their hand. “Since you took so long to talk, we barely even had a conversation! We are so hanging out after school, so you better wait for me!” And with that, Yamato stormed off and left Kiyo in stunned silence.

They furrowed their brows as they scratched their cheek, watching the door slam shut. If they had a nickel for every time she did that…