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hongism · 4 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ nine

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, tw: violence in this chapter ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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mists of celeste act one ➻ part nine

The air is hot and stagnant around you, and the black ecosuit over your body isn’t helping block that heat in the slightest. You shift on the sand under your body. Sweat trickles down the crown of your head, and the muscles around your left eye are already tired from you squinting so much. There is no movement in your scope; it’s a clear and still area in front of the warehouse below. Yeosang is on your right, squatted beside where you are lying down on the cliff side and watching the ground as you do.

“Nothing,” you say as you pull away from the scope. Glancing up at Yeosang, you await his next order but it’s not for you.

“San, Jongho. You are clear to drop down. Good luck.” Yeosang releases his wristband after giving the order and pushes a loose clump of blonde hair off his forehead. “Stay put and watch the front door from this angle. I’m doing to wrap around to the other side of the cliff and watch the back entrance. I’ll keep in contact with you over the headset. Here’s a pistol in case of emergencies but try not to use it without telling me you’re in trouble first. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Will do,” you mutter in response, bringing your chin back down so you can stare through the scope again. When you pull up and check your right side again, Yeosang is gone. The only evidence that he was ever near you is the lone pistol at your side. You snag the weapon and pull it under your body, eyes trailing over the landscape surrounding you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever been to Medra, but you were expecting much more than what you are currently faced with. The area you’re in is pretty much just a rocky desert, filled with small cliffs and shallow canyons at every turn. Even in the dead of night, there is no breeze. The air isn’t cool either despite the sun being gone from sight. Of course, it doesn’t help that Yeosang landed the transport ship a couple miles back out of fear of being seen by someone, so you already worked up a sweat from that.

You shift your weapon to aim the scope at the roof of the warehouse. Two bodies move quickly across the flat surface – San and Jongho – dark shadows over the roof, and you follow them with your scope for a few moments before returning to the main entrance. Your earpiece crackles to life as you do, and Yeosang’s voice carries over.

“Do you see anything?” He asks. You sigh, reaching for your wristband and speaking against the metal.

“No, it’s quiet on my end. All I see is San and Jongho.”

“It’s clear on my end too,” Yeosang mutters back. You pull away from the scope and heave another deep sigh.

“How long is this supposed to take?” You ask. A chuckle comes in response at first, and you press your lips into a thin line as you wait for proper response.

“Are you impatient already, Y/N?” You neglect to respond to his snarky remark, prompting him to keep talking. “It should take two hours at most. One hour if we’re lucky.”

“What do you mean by lucky?”

“I mean if San can keep his head screwed on the right way then there will be no trouble.” There’s a hint of venom in Yeosang’s words, and you are quick to pick up on it.

“You don’t seem to like San all too much,” you say in a quiet tone. Yeosang releases another laugh.

“You do realize that San can hear us both over the comm? We didn’t switch channels.”

“You’re the one who insulted San’s abilities,” you counter. His tone and attitude cause a twinge of annoyance to stir in your gut, but you push that aside and refocus your attention on the scope before you.

Yeosang makes a sound somewhat like clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You’re quite defensive of San, aren’t you?”

You inhale sharply, his voice alone grating at your annoyance.

“I don’t believe in minimizing someone without knowing what they can do first,” you argue back. Your index finger slips over the trigger of the sniper even though there are no targets before you. “Besides, San saved my life by getting me to Yunho.”

“That’s a strange paradox in and of itself.” Yeosang pauses, and you hear the comm line die out. For a moment you think he’s spotted trouble, but his voice starts up again in the same calm tone as before. “Saving lives isn’t like him.”

“Would you say the same about me then?” You inquire. You pull your finger off the trigger, letting it rest on the sandy ground instead.

“Have you suddenly saved a life recently? No. At least, I don’t imagine you have. You – Y/N L/N, Ghost of Eros – are a killer. An assassin. A weapon. That is what you were bred to be. You were made to kill, and that is what you know how to do, is it not? Would you tell a lion to stop before his prey and have mercy? No, because lions are not capable of mercy. San is the same way. He is a weapon, and that is what he has been used as his whole life. It’s a fact that he is well aware of. As a member of the crew, he has one singular purpose and that purpose is to execute and assassinate. To use his abilities as a Spectre to do what Hongjoong wants.”

A scoff escapes you, and you make sure that the comm picks it up so Yeosang can hear you.

“So Hongjoong is running a slave ship then? One slave wasn’t enough, so he has to treat the rest of his crew like slaves as well? If he thinks for a second that I will let him treat me like a slave then he is sorely mistaken. The military couldn’t keep me in check, so a fucking loose-cannoned pirate sure as hell won’t either.”

Quiet comes in response to your rant. You wait for any sort of answer from Yeosang, but a minute goes by in absolute silence. Then he laughs. It’s more of a huff than a laugh, and you can hear the disbelief in the sound.

“Hongjoong isn’t treating anyone like a slave. He gives each person the freedom to decide for themselves how they want to be treated, what their position is, how they can be most effective on the crew. The only person he decided for was Seonghwa, but seeing as Seonghwa was the first to join the crew, that makes sense. Otherwise, he never made that decision for anyone. Even if you can’t see it yourself, he is giving you flexibility of your own. San chose what he is, and he chose to be a weapon. He chose what he is on the crew for one very clear reason.”

“And what is that?” You forget that said man is on the comms with you for a minute, prying to get an answer out of Yeosang before he decides not to say anything at all.

“It’s all because that’s how San views himself.” Yeosang lets silence hang in the air for a moment, and you drink in the information. It’s a sad and sinking reality that washes over you with the force of a tsunami. “No one influenced it, Y/N. Not Hongjoong or anyone else on the crew. If San wants to be treated that way, then I will respect that.”

Part of you wants to ask how that is an act of respect when it’s so harsh and harmful. The other, more prominent part of you is stunned into silence as you mull over what Yeosang has told you.

How can a person subject themselves to being nothing more than a tool for others to use?

“Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” Yeosang inquires, tone almost lilting. The image of San’s Cheshire smile rises to the forefront of your mind, but it only fills you will sadness as you picture it. “Status update.”

“It’s still clear,” you mutter back. Yeosang awards you with a hum of approval before falling back into silence. Something still nags at the edge of your thoughts though, overtaking the sadness behind San’s image of himself. “If Hongjoong isn’t treating any of you like slaves, then why keep one himself?”

“What do you mean? No one on the crew is a slave. And Hongjoong certainly isn’t the type to keep slaves, despite how he might come across sometimes. There’s a difference between being harsh and inhumane.”

“Then what’s the deal with the one in the collar then? Wooyoung? Is he not a slave?”

“Of course he’s not,” Yeosang snaps back in an instant, barely letting you finish your sentence before he’s denying it. “He hasn’t been a slave for a very long time. That doesn’t mean those scares have fully healed though.”

You opt not to answer this time; instead, you let your gaze return to the scope and check the entrance to the warehouse again.

“God, I fucking hate Medra.” Yeosang’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “So fucking hot and sandy. The damn winds will start any minute now too.”

You don’t have time to ask about the winds because something twitches in the corner of your scope. Your index finger finds the trigger immediately, shot lined up on a wandering head, and you find two soldiers walking towards the main entrance. Your muscles twitch as you itch to just pull the trigger, but you stop yourself at the last second.

“Movement,” you hiss. “San, Jongho – you’ve got two soldiers moving into the front door. Both armed with what looks like laser rifles. Helmets and chest padding.”

“Damn, why are you getting all the fun over there?” Yeosang complains. You ignore him in favor of following the soldiers with your eyes until they disappear into the building.

“They’ve entered the warehouse,” you report.

Once they’re completely out of sight, you let the tension roll off your shoulders and relax against the ground again. Your fingers shake as you pull them away from the trigger. In one swift movement, you swing your legs around and sit up, bringing your left hand to touch the material over your bandage. The kevlar is damp to the touch, and even through the darkness, you can see the scarlet hue of blood on your fingertips.

“Well, fuck…” You keep your lips away from the wristband, making certain that Yeosang and the others don’t hear you. You wipe your fingers against your thigh and settle back to the sandy ground.

For a moment, it feels like you’re elsewhere. Outside the palace of Eros in the dead of night, waiting with your sniper just like this for the king to step into sight and earn himself a bullet in the head.

For a moment, you feel the cool breeze of Eros’ winter on your skin, the cold sweat on your brow, and the burning tears on your cheeks as you sought to line up the shot.

For a moment, you see the scene of that fucking public execution that you could not stop no matter how hard you tried. Maybe putting the bullet in sooner would’ve done something, but it didn’t. You had to settle for failure.

“Does this take you back to the good old days of the military?” Yeosang inquires. He breaks you out of your reverie, and you feel the heat of the air around you again.

“Which days are you talking about?” You ask, tone slightly shaky despite your efforts to hide how shaken up you are.

“You mentioned being on a covert mission and assassination team. Surely you got good at shooting people in the head through that.”

You are already sensitive thanks to reliving the memory, so you blame that fact for your very short patience with Yeosang.

“Why is everyone so fucking intent on that one fact?” You hiss out with venom in your tone.

“It’s impossible to think of anything else. That’s what you are known for. We know you because of that and that alone. Sure, you have an extensive list of crimes on your record, but to everyone who has seen the record, only one thing stands out. Without killing the king, you would be nothing and probably not even alive. Hongjoong wouldn’t have seen you as valuable in the slightest. Hell, San probably only saved you in the cargo bay because he knew who you were. As for myself, I want to know what the real reason for it was. You’ve already denied it being a revolution or something grand and fantastic. And you seem to hate taking responsibility for what you did. So that really begs the question: why?”

You swallow roughly. The words nearly make you slip back into that structured mind space of your memory, and you feel the ghosting touch of cold air on your nape. A searing pain down your spine.

“It was a personal vendetta,” you force out, breaking yourself out of the memory again. You can feel your chest heaving from the efforts to keep it at bay. You know if Daichi were here, he would be lecturing you on what a shitty job you’re doing, but you can barely keep your eyes on the ground below you. “Something I had to do. A score to settle, and that’s what I did. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. I would do it ten times over. But I can’t call it murder. Call it justice for the fallen who died when their king was supposed to be leading them and protecting them. Justice for the king who failed them in so many ways.”

You hope that your answer will shut Yeosang up, but it has the opposite effect, unfortunately.

“A vendetta? Is a vendetta justice then? How can that not be murder? You talk about justice as though it’s something to be attained through murder when it’s not. You claim it wasn’t for anyone but yourself, yet here you are contradicting yourself? I won–”

“What would you have done in my shoes then? Would an obedient little prince have killed the king?” You can almost hear the way Yeosang’s jaw snaps together, a slight click over the comm. Maybe you’ve finally managed to get him to shut up long enough for you to breathe, but your luck evidently isn’t that good.

“I wouldn’t have been able to. Even after everything that went down prior to the order for my execution, I could never bring myself to despise the king enough to kill him.”

“Would Kang Minhee have killed the king?”

“No, just as I said.”

“Would Kang Yeosang?”

Yeosang laughs but doesn’t respond this time. It’s an answer in and of itself.

“Without those chains on your wrist, you are nothing more than a slave to the monarchy. The chains just make you seem like a traitor to the outside world, but it’s quite obvious that you aren’t actually one.” You pull back from the sniper in front of you, sitting up on your heels. A sigh leaves your lips.

“An interesting take, Y/N. Something tells me you wouldn’t understand even a sliver of the truth though.” Yeosang’s tone is final. You don’t want to say anything else either, but you can tell that you’ve upset him with your words. You hardly feel guilty though, considering his incessant remarks about your decisions.

“I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for nothing,” you announce. Not even as second later does Jongho’s voice crackle in your ear.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“What are you talking about?” Yeosang hisses.

“San went ahead without me. Darted out of sight without warning, I couldn’t catch up to him because he was using his abilities. A guard saw him moving. I haven’t been spotted yet, but the guard is already calling for backup.”

“Fucking hell. Jongho, stay out of sight for now. I’ll come down and handle this myself.”

“I’ll go with you,” you demand, falling back to the ground to check for said reinforcements in your scope.

“No, you are staying put. Keep an eye out for reinforcements but don’t you fucking dare shoot anyone.”

“Absolutely not,” you refuse. “You have zero reason to trust that I will stay put and not run away first chance I get. Or that I’ll tell you the truth about how many are on the way. I am offering my help. You ought to take it.”

A small squadron of soldiers rush into the corner of your vision. You line up a shot without hesitation, aiming for a soldier just in front of another. You pull the trigger, the shot echoes through the canyon, and the bullet ricochets through the head of the first soldier and into the one adjacent him. You yank the bolt handle, letting the empty cartridge fall into the sand, then push yourself up. You snatch the spare pistol up in your right hand and reach around your back to feel for the knife strapped to your back.

“Don’t you fucking dare jump down from this height!” Yeosang yells through the earpiece. “You need to stay put, especially with your arm!”

You ignore his shouts of protests, yanking the knife out and propelling yourself off the edge of the cliff. You swing down and collide with the rock roughly. Just before you begin to skid down and fall to what would most likely be your death, you jam the edge of your knife into the sandy rock. The stone is so fragile and porous that the blade cuts right through and hooks. You brace your feet on the cliff side, ignoring the burn that emanates from your suit skidding across the rock, and let the momentum carry you down to the remaining three soldiers.

They’ve spotted you, and you can hear their shouts as they fumble to line up their assault rifles and fire at you. Yeosang yells something incoherent in your ear but your body is so wound up on adrenaline that you don’t process a word he’s saying. You twist your head to look down at the soldiers and wait for the right moment to push off the cliff. All three have their guns trailed just beneath your feet, going lower and lower as you slide further down. You hear the gunshot before the first soldier calls for open fire.

In that moment, time seems to slow to a standstill, you yank the knife out of the sandy rocks and push yourself towards the group below. You underestimated how many bullets would be fired in your direction, however, and without a second thought, you close your eyes. The markings on your back burn like hell as you let the slightest hint of your powers slip through before the bullets can hit your skin. When you open your eyes again, one of the soldiers screams.

You propel your knife into his neck and aim your pistol at the second soldier on your right side. The bullet hits him square between the eyes at the same moment that your knife hits the one on the left. Your body barrels into the remaining guard in the middle, letting him cushion the brunt of your fall. The momentum and whiplash of his head smacking against the ground are probably enough to end his life, but you don’t take any chances and fire one last bullet.

Your legs feel like jelly as you pull yourself off the guard. Once you’re on your feet again, you glance up at the cliff side in search of Yeosang, but you can’t see his figure atop it anymore. Your earpiece is silent as well. You look around, bending down to grab your knife out of the corpse. You wipe the blade on his uniform before tucking it back into the sheath on your lower back.

You hear the thud of boots hitting the ground before you see the perpetrator on the edge of your vision. You turn to face Yeosang, expecting him to yell at you, but instead of speaking, he grabs you by the arm. With an unprecedented amount of force, he throws you against the cliff side. The breath is knocked out of your lungs. You choked on dust and sand. The duffel bag across his shoulders hits the ground as he steps closer to you.

“You are fucking careless, selfish, and ignorant. You can’t listen to orders for two seconds?” He spits at you, hot breath cascading over your face. You shove against him, hands hitting his chest and sending him back a couple feet.

“Remember that I am first and foremost a traitor. That’s it. I apparently have an issue following orders ironically. I create opportunities, and if you expect me to wait around for one to appear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You should be riddled with bullets and dead on the floor. That would be better for everyone at this rate.”

“Say it with a bit more enthusiasm, pretty boy! I didn’t quite hear the fire in your tone.” You push off the cliff side and start to move around Yeosang. His hand catches you by the throat. He shoves you back against the rock with little to no effort, fingers squeezing around your neck. The pressure only continues to increase, and for a split second, you think he might actually kill you. Your hands fly up to tear at his, trying to pull his fingers off your with depleting strength. He’s cutting off your airway just enough to make it uncomfortable.

Blonde hair blurs across your vision as his face moves closer to yours. You try to duck away to no avail; his grip keeps you in place.

“What would you do if I let you go now?”

The question confuses you at first, and you can’t quite understand what he means by it. He clears things up with his next question though, an echo of one he’s spoken to you before.

“How does this end?” He loosens his grip on your throat just enough to let you speak.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out.

“What are your goals now?”

“I… I don’t have any.” You continue to struggle against his grip as you speak in attempts to free your throat more. “The only thing – the only thing I wanted in life was a chance to live a no-normal one, but that has been robbed from me. Revenge was th-the only thing that mattered to me up until I k-killed the king. I – I have no more goals for myself.”

Yeosang’s grip tightens as you finish speaking. He squeezes harder than before, and the air leaves your lungs at an alarming rate. Black spots dance in the edge of your vision. Your head pounds as though someone has hit you three times over. Then the pressure on your neck dissipates. You choke in air, doubling over and bracing yourself on your knees as you rush to catch your breath.

“There’s no point in killing you then.” Yeosang steps back, watching you collapse with unamused eyes. “I’m going to figure out what your true intentions are. There’s a reason you were aboard The Revenge and there is a reason you came aboard The Horizon. I’ll make sure you stay alive long enough for me to figure it out.”

Something about Yeosang’s tone and stance above you exudes ruthlessness. You feared Hongjoong and all the possibilities surrounding him, but this is a different type of fear with Yeosang. It’s like he’s a predator chasing its prey, circling you with a hunger that you don’t know. You rub at your throat where his fingers just were. The skin is already sore to the touch, and you imagine that it will be bruised within hours.

Jongho and San make a timely appearance just then. The Berserker rushes out of the warehouse first, and San follows close behind albeit at a much slower pace.

“We need to leave. Preferably quickly. We got what we need but without the stealth part. So…”

Yeosang nods and taps at his wristband, turning away from you. Jongho’s eyes go to the carnage you left near the doors then over to the spot where you’re huddled against the cliff side.

A loud rumbling suddenly starts up from somewhere beyond the cliff. Yeosang glances back at the three of you, his expression suddenly calm compared to the one you saw moments ago.

“We’ll be making a loud exit then. The transport ship is on its way. Be ready to move fast.”

You push yourself up and glare daggers into Yeosang’s back. A sudden gust of hot air sweeps through the valley, and blinding iridescent lights hit as the transport ship lowers to the ground. Yeosang steps onboard first, and you follow behind quickly. You sweep past him to get to a seat.

“San, I’ll be taking your spot in the pilot’s seat since you can’t seem to do as told,” Yeosang hisses between gritted teeth as San steps onto the ship. The dark-haired man merely nods and finds a seat across from you. You glance over at him, trying to read his expression but it’s completely blank. Jongho and Yeosang file into the pilot’s cabin. Neither you nor San speaks for a few minutes. The rumble of the ship is the only thing audible, along with a few clicks here and there as Jongho and Yeosang fiddle with the controls. You keep rubbing at your throat.

“Yeosang is wrong.”

You jerk your head in San’s direction, eyes blazing as you meet his gaze.

“What?”

“Yeosang is wrong,” he repeats.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“What Yeosang said about why I brought you to Yunho… it’s wrong. He’s wrong.”

Oh. Oh. You had forgotten that he could hear that entire conversation. Of course, he could. You were speaking on the same channel Jongho and San were dialed to.

“It wasn’t just because of your identity.”

“You don’t have to justify your actions to me,” you respond. San shakes his head.

“I do. I most definitely do. There’s a reason why Yeosang and the others view me in that regard. Why they would assume that to be my intention. But I want you to know that I didn’t save you. Yunho did. Because that’s his job.”

“No, actually,” you refute before twisting your lips to the side. You glance up at the ceiling, a deep exhale leaving your lungs, then continue to speak. “You did save me, whether you like it or not. I’m grateful to Yunho, yes, but I’m also grateful to you. Because without you, I would be dead in a crate of fabrics.”

“Thank you… for saying that.”

You nod and look away from the Spectre, focusing your attention on the floor under your feet. Yellow grains of sand are spread across the metal, and you mindlessly drag your foot through the scattered sand. A thud breaks your attention. You whip your head up again to where San was just sitting, but he’s no longer there. He’s crumpled on the floor of the transport ship, body limp.

✧✧✧

a/n: surprise it’s early yeEHAW i got too excited about this chapter and just had to write and post it now bc im sdjfoisdjfoi vibrating at a high frequency!! let me know what you think about this chapter i’m so so excited to share it with you guys!

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oveliagirlhaditright · 6 years ago

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A series of short, connected one-shots about Riku learning he's in love with Naminé. Post-Kingdom Hearts III. And, yes: there is a plot.

The first four chapters

Chapter One

Riku accidentally knocked Naminé into a wall—and oh, how her hair escaped its ponytail this way and all the art supplies she'd been trying to gather from shelves fell to the floor—and while it was the worst and most awkward thing in the world when it happened, it ended up being for the best.

"…Riku, why am I a mail pusher here—just because I'm desperate to have a job, and this place accepted me—away from where I really want to be? Here, where these art supplies are that Zara wanted me to grab for her… Surely I could find a way to have a job with these, and be happy that way."

Ever the realist, Riku was about to tell Naminé that it was probably because the economy sucked, that she'd chosen what she had… And that one had to take what they could get. Especially when they were young…

But then Riku thought about it, and realized Naminé would probably want to start a daycare and teach art that way: And there was a cry for it, in the new part of town that had been built so that the Island could learn and enjoy Scrooge McDuck's technology there.

So fully embracing this idea now—Riku had never wanted Naminé to become a slave of the system to support herself, anyway: that was even why he'd come by to whisk her away to a great lunch—Riku told Naminé it was "a grand idea. And that if he had to talk to gossip Selphie to get the ball rolling, he would."

And hand-in-hand, they walked out of the building.

Chapter Two

It was while the two of them were out on said lunch "date"—and oh, how the use of that last word made Riku feel a bit awkward—that he wondered just why he was doing all of this.

Riku had always liked Naminé as a friend—how could he not, after everything she'd done for them?—and after Sora, Kairi, and Mickey, she was probably the person he’d say he was the closest to. And now with his recent... interest in her, and need to save her from a terrible fate, Riku needed to figure out if he'd fallen in love with her. He supposed it was definitely possible: The last time he'd had romantic feelings for anyone, or even considered eros, was when he'd had desires for Kairi’s heart when he was fourteen. And if Riku was being honest with himself, he thought what he was now experiencing with Naminé was close to that... if not more. And man, was he now nervous because of it! Naminé, seeming to see this, laughed as she pointed at an item on Riku's menu. "You should try the citrus salmon, if you're unsure what to order here. It's delicious. And it being so colorful matches the discussion we're having about art?"

Really not knowing what else to order, in this really strange environment—a date! Riku still couldn’t believe he was really on a date with Naminé, of all things—Riku flagged down the waiter, and told him they’d just have two citrus salmons, like his friend had suggested. Because in this situation, Riku wouldn’t have been able to read the menu if he’d tried.

Riku quickly tried to calm down, though—reminding himself that this had been his idea, and he’d spent plenty of time in comfortable contact with Naminé when they’d been working together to restore Sora’s memories. So why should this be any different?

Besides, rescuing Naminé from her terrible career—where they didn’t even pay her minimum wage—was worth any pain, right?

“Riku…” Naminé started now. And he could tell by the trace of heartbreak in her voice, that she was about to try and let him go the way that she had Sora—thinking it was a necessity—and how Riku hated himself for it. “You know this doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. Right? Furthermore… I know your Replica felt certain things for me, and entrusted those memories to you, but that doesn’t mean that you have t- “

And here it was: her speech about how they were all their own people, and just because Riku Replica had loved Naminé didn’t mean he himself reached those feelings at all: Riku had heard this same thing when Roxas and Naminé had realized they didn’t love each other, after all: So Riku got why Naminé was kindly trying to reassure him about this now.

…But the thing was that she was wrong.

While Riku may have tried to argue some of his Replica’s last words, if he really wanted to—to assure him that he really had been his own person, and nothing at all of his personality had come from him—the fact was he knew it wasn’t true:

And Riku Replica had known that most of all, when he’d sacrificed himself for Naminé in knowing that she would be in good hands.

It was… true that Riku had inherited some of the man’s memories—and somehow, the idea of Naminé making him her own lucky charm, the way Kairi had for Sora, felt right to him—but even beyond that… the real Riku’s feelings for Naminé had always been strong… He’d just never realized it: Why else would he have emoted more for hearing Kairi talk about Naminé, than for Kairi herself lately?

Feeling the need to stop Naminé’s words before she took another love away from herself, Riku caught the blonde’s hands in his own and decided to talk to her with as much heart as he had been with Sora lately.

“Naminé, you really don’t have to do that to yourself… the belittling thing, I mean. It’s weird for me to think about, because I have no experience in this stuff… I once might have tried to, but I gave it up on that to make amends to Sora—and even Kairi—and to live for the world.

“But Naminé… I guess what I’m saying, is that I think my heart is telling me stuff about you. And I’d be okay with seeing where that road takes us, if you are…

“…Starting with you telling me why you’ve decided to work as a minor, anyway. Why not just have Kairi’s family completely support you?”

And to say that Naminé shone like the sun at Riku’s confession and acceptance of her, would have been an understatement: It made Riku think back to a saying he’d heard, about those who were hurt the most smiled the brightest. And damn, if that wasn’t true in Naminé’s case… And he wondered if it was in his own.

“Well, Riku, you might expect it’s more of me trying to earn my way, in thinking I don’t deserve anything. But to be honest? I’m realizing I’m as much of a busy-body as Kairi can be… Sitting still just doesn’t work for me. So even while I’m going to school and adjusting to a new life, I find I don’t mind working part-time.”

Running a thumb over Naminé’s hands that he still held in his own, Riku figured he could see that: He was much the same way, after all: Wasn’t that why he was still going on some adventures with the King, despite finally being home—in a mostly safe multiverse—with Sora and Kairi, like he’d always wanted?

“Well, what do you say to helping me with my job, as I help you with yours? I’ll go talk to Selphie for you right now, Naminé. And could you make a new keychain for my Keyblade?”

The white witch didn’t have to be told twice: She pulled out her sketchbook instantly and began drawing.

And Riku couldn’t help pondering if this keychain she created could have special properties, like when she’d transfigured Kairi’s lucky charm—apparently—and if it might make him even more powerful that way.

The duo finished their meal while keeping up a comfortable conversation, as Naminé designed and Riku tried to figure out who the best contractor for Selphie to talk to would be…

And when Riku drove Naminé home, he was a bit of a mess in not knowing what to do now.

But Naminé, as always, seemed to have all the answers, as she just gently slipped the keychain she’d made into his hand: that was a drawing of someone sleeping, that instantly pulled him into the Sleeping Worlds before Riku got his wits about him and come back.

Huh. Naminé had just found a way to streamline his change into his Dream Eater self, even in the real world. Riku thought he could find a way to use that for combat, for sure.

He was going to turn around and thank Naminé for her hard work—and promise her the same—but she’d already disappeared.

But Riku still felt the ghost of her grip in his hand.

She was playing hard to get, it would seem. But Riku had no issues with that at all…

So long as she always came back to him, the way that Kairi did for Sora.

And Riku smiled, knowing that she would.

Chapter Three

While Riku was speaking with Selphie, he couldn’t get the word “Keyblade” to disappear from his mind.

And this was worrying for three reasons: One, because people weren’t supposed to be able to think two thoughts at once. So Riku had to wonder if he was maybe going a little ADD. But he supposed if he was, it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Sora handled it well, after all.

Two, Riku also knew that this was what happened in your heart when a Keyblade had finally chosen you and appeared in your hand. And as Riku already had one, so this made him fear that he was somehow getting Xehanort’s one…

And thirdly… maybe Riku was realizing he had no intention to be on the Islands at all, and never really wanted to be.

So, would he break all of his promises to Naminé, then?

But Riku tried to push all of that aside, as he conversed with Selphie.

“Sure, Riku,” Selphie agreed, as she put her hands in her pockets and quickly took them back out… Riku got the sense that it was because Selphie was becoming more of a runner, and had realized that standing like the former before taking off, wouldn’t do her any favors. “I can talk to people about what Naminé wants to do. I mean, anywhere you go you need connections. And the only way to get them here is through talk, since we don’t have boards or anything… I’ll see what I can do. But why do ya wanna help her, anyway?”

And Selphie had adopted that voice now: the one she’d used for Sora and Kairi when teasing them about each other—Riku knew this, because he’d used to spy on his clueless, lovestruck friends, too—and even for him, back when he’d had a crush on Kairi.

In fact, Selphie was so close to Riku now—as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned in, to see his face better—that he almost thought that she was trying to start a relationship with him here and now, but he knew better.

“Because…” Riku started, now putting his hands in his own pockets and wondering when he’d become so honest—as the two of them stood against the waves—“she’s… how should I put it? The light to my soul. And before you start gushing, Selph, I don’t necessarily mean that in a soulmate or romantic kind of way. Because you can have soul siblings, and whatnot… But have you ever just met someone, who changed you and your life for the better?”

Selphie grinned widely—and oh, how it reminded Riku of their best friend Kairi. And he had to smile for it. He understood how Selphie saw Kairi as her older sister—and then said surprisingly shyly, “Of course. That’s how I felt about you, Sora, and Kairi, as I watched your plans of grandeur.” And if Riku had never felt like a dick before, he certainly did now… He felt badabout how they’d left Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka out of their plans back then. And Riku was about to apologize for it.

But Selphie, apparently seeing the larger point—that if Riku had fit someone else into his original group now, it must mean something—just took his hands in hers and reassured him with, “I’ll ask around for the kind of position Naminé wants. But if I get this for her, you should make sure you don’t leave her for something even more… ‘grander’ than her.”

…

Riku’s conversation with Selphie had made him feel awful about himself… something he was certain she had planned on, in the end, to get him to rethink some of his choices.

And rethink some of them he needed to do, he decided—as he nearly tore out his own sketch book from his pocket and began drawing himself.

…If he was really in love with Naminé—liked he’d let himself believe when they’d just been out to eat together—then he couldn’t lead her on, when really he still wanted to travel all over: If this was real, he’d have to settle down the way Sora had with Kairi.

But was it that? Upon now summoning his Keyblade into his hand over the sketchbook, as he walked home, Riku started to have his doubts. Despite his own selfishness here, Riku wanted to believe Nami and himself had that kind of bond.

But he’d thought they had had something for each other, maybe, in Castle Oblivion and at the Old Mansion. And Naminé had left him for Roxas then. So, who wasn’t to say he wasn’t just her rebound boy for Roxas, his Replica, or hell even Sora? And hell, Riku knew that he wasn’t exactly guiltless in this situation, either.

First, he’d loved Kairi… and then he thought he had Naminé, after she saved him from the Light… And somewhere down the line, if Riku was being honest with himself, he’d had a crush on Sora… And maybe Xion was even in there somewhere…

So, who was to say that he and Naminé were really romantic with each other, and not just trying to find whatever “it” was with just anyone? These were the hard and heavy questions Riku had to deal with now. But they weren’t the first ones he’d encountered when returning home.

No, those ones came from his mother… who, while proud of what he’d done for the worlds after his fall, was disappointed that he’d fallen to begin with and had had a lot of questions for him.

Riku had been unable to answer them all... He didn’t even want to.

And more than anything, he avoided them and her… But Riku somehow now figured that if he was going to understand the latter situation with Naminé, then he would have to get the former as well.

And that’s how Riku found himself standing outside his own door, knocking on it, and asking right away when he saw his mom face—before he could take her in, and regret this— “…I know what you think of me now, Mom. But do you think I was oncecapable of love? When you think back to how I jealously chased Kairi around like a love-sick puppy, and all?”

To her credit, the light brunet woman—his mother, Riku reminded himself—didn’t scrunch up her face at him like he’d expected she was. There might have even been some sympathy on her face, when she answered: “Riku… I don’t think you’re evil. Really, I’m just afraid your nature reflects the bad side of your lesbian mother. I don’t know… and I’m sorry.”

Talk of how Riku’s mother had learned she was a lesbian, after she’d married a husband and had him—and what it had done to their family—was always a sore topic for Riku.

So, it took everything he had not to lash out at her… or—Gods help him—to not think of hitting her.

As she’d just said, she put some of her own failures onto him… which Riku now understood wasn’t fair.

But moreover… she did make Riku think his entire problem was that he’d realized he was gay and nearly destroyed the world for it—because apparently bisexuals or homosexuals could never be sane in her world.

But the thing was… Riku wasn’t even sure he felt that way for Sora. He was confused… So, no matter what, knew she was just putting bad thoughts into his head.

But since they were reconciling now, or trying to (all because of himself and not her, Riku thought miserably) Riku found he wanted her opinion above anyone else’s.

She was still his mother…

So that’s why Riku had to know, as he toed the threshold to his home the way a just turned vampire would: “If I don’t want to even step foot on the Island, isn’t that proof I should spare Naminé the pain and let her go?”

Riku’s mom opened her mouth once, twice, three times before deciding the best thing to say… apparently.

And to Riku, it was like sunlight on a rainy day: She seemed to give the kind of answer that she once upon a time hadn’t been able to give herself.

“Then take her with you.”

Chapter Four

Naminé's PoV

Naminé didn’t care much for Riku’s mother.

She knew this was unfair, since she had actually never met her. She only knew her from Riku’s memories… but Naminé had somehow known that she would convince Riku he could travel the worlds while keeping his promise to her. And Naminé supposed he could… but she didn’t want it.

Furthermore, Naminé figured that if she ever met the woman, she’d try and tell her that she had feelings for Xion… Ugh.

Plus, the way Naminé had treated Riku was just unforgivable to her. But perhaps she was trying to change.

But all of this was why Naminé had a sour expression on her face, when Riku came up to her and said: “Naminé, why don’t you come with me on my world travels? You can set up some temporary art schools on each world you attend to, and live your dream that way… unless you don’t want to?”

She didn’t want to—that was the thing—and in her opinion, Riku should have realized he was being selfish (and running away from love) and done this one thing for her.

But as always Naminé was too selfless and she readily agreed, with a slight nod of her head.

“Okay, Riku. I have to pack… but I’ll meet you here in the morning.”

And she did.

…

The ride in the gummi ship was pretty uneventful.

While Naminé longed to converse with Riku—because they’d been falling in love… and while Riku was fighting it, she sensed it was a good thing and wanted to help it along—she found that the words wouldn’t come.

Naminé tried to enjoy the beautiful view outside her window and focus on only that. Maybe if she did, this would turn into the romantic moment it had been for Sora and Kairi when he’d taken her from Hollow Bastion to Traverse Town, but at the same time… Naminé found she was too angry for it to be.

“Naminé, did I do something wrong?” Riku asked, as he came up behind her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Thankfully, he had thought to put the ship on autopilot, so the rocket didn’t crash and burn for Riku’s suddenly focusing on her… something Naminé tried not to blush at.

“I mean… A lot of the worlds aren’t as advanced as the ones Scrooge McDuck helps along, so I thought you’d maybe want to help those ones getting an art program going along…”

It was a beautiful dream that Riku was painting for her—so maybe Riku had given this more thought than she’d imagined—but he didn’t get to continue on with it.

For that moment, a giant Heartless appeared in the Other Sky—in the shape of an “X”—and got the ship in its grasp, and tried to eat it.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened at all (Naminé might have not physically been there for it, but she’d witnessed the moment because of Kairi): On the way to the Keyblade Graveyard, much worse things had tried to destroy them.

And yet Naminé could tell that Riku was panicking all the same: Shown in how Riku was trying to get out of the plane to fight the threat with a Keyblade, before he even went for the lasers.

Naminé went for the lasers, though—firing at it here and there, as it wriggled away and took them with it—but she had to be careful not to hit Riku.

Frustrated, and giving up herself for the moment, Naminé went to the exit and kneeled over Riku: he was half-in and half-out right now: And looking to get swallowed or bleed to death, from where she’d gotten a few times and hadn’t meant to.

“Riku, why don’t you come back in and try to fight this thing by ramming into it, or? You’re going to- Ahh!”

Naminé couldn’t finish the sentence, because at that exact moment one of the Heartless’ arms crashed through the window and just missed dissecting her head from her shoulders with its movement.

“Because I’ve dealt with them before, Nami! Once they get a ship in their hold, it’s near impossible to get out. The best way is to fight them the normal way!”

And before Naminé could try and protest, Riku was diving towards the monster’s core—where it was preparing a blast to come their way—summoned his Combined Keyblade to hand, and summersaulted into the explosion with a loud “Arrraggghh!”

…It probably would have killed Riku—and tears were already sliding down Naminé’s eyes at the thought of it—but fortunately, since that Keyblade had been part Sora’s… it had the power of Crystal Snow, and had frozen the fire before Riku got to it.

And before Naminé could blink, he was flying back into the craft like an angel out of heaven… His hand was even on Naminé’s shoulder again.

“Well, what do you say we continue onto the New World now?”

Breath coming to Naminé in hollow gasps… she had to realize that maybe she hadn’t been the only one not able to grasp the weight of their love. And that she should sacrifice for Riku, too.

…

The world the pair touched down on was full of greenery—it reminded Naminé a lot of the outside of the Mysterious Tower—but there was also a lot of sand or dirt on the ground, as well.

Naminé took a lot of it into her hands—thinking that it was much like clay. And that, perhaps, this would be a good place to work on her hope, after all…

But then things went to hell in a hand basket much faster than they even had with the Heartless in the ocean between worlds.

Someone had appeared above Naminé—moving in a way that even Riku had noticed him—knocked her down, and sliced an “X” onto her face before she could fight them off.

She screamed, in a delayed reaction as the pain finally hit her and blood fell down her face.

The white witch got to her feet as soon as her body would let her—pushing off her boyfriend’s concern, as she turned around and around and around, trying to locate the man as Riku did the same—but he was gone.

Author’s Note: Sorry that so much happened in this chapter, but I needed it to to get the plot going. Hopefully the next one will be less intense. But they are in the Pocahontas world now, so that’s not a total promise…

And it’s not a native of the world who attacked Naminé…

And I, for once, didn’t proofread this. So sorry if there are any mistakes. I swear I will next time.

#namiku #rikunami

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tipsycad147 · 3 years ago

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Apollo – Greek God of Music, Sun and Light

Apollo is one of the twelve Olympian gods, and among the most important of the Greek pantheon of gods. Apollo is the son of Zeus and the Titan goddess Leto, and the twin brother of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. Apollo played many roles in Greek mythology, being the god of a range of areas, including healing, archery, music, the arts, sunlight, knowledge, oracles and herds and flocks. As such, Apollo was an important god with influence in many areas.

Life of Apollo

Birth of Apollo

When Leto was about to give birth to Apollo and Artemis, Hera, who was vengeful that her husband Zeus had bedded Leto, decided to make life difficult for her. She sent forth Python, a serpent-dragon, to pursue and torment Leto.

Python was a giant serpent-dragon borne out of Gaea and the guardian of Delphi’s Oracle. Hera sent the beast to hunt Leto and her children, who then were still inside their mother’s womb. Leto was able to successfully evade Python.

Hera also forbade Leto to give birth on terra firma, or land. Due to this, Leto had to find wander around, looking for a place to deliver her children that was not connected to land. As per Hera’s instructions, no one would give Leto sanctuary. Finally, she arrived at the floating island of Delos, which neither the mainland nor an island. Leto delivered her children here under a palm tree, with all the goddesses in attendance except for Hera.

In some versions, Hera kidnaps the goddess of childbirth, Eileithyia, so that Leto couldn’t go into labor. However, the other deities trick Hera by distracting her with an amber necklace.

Apollo came out of his mother’s womb holding a golden sword. When he and his sister were born, every single item on the island of Delos turned to gold. Themis then fed Apollo ambrosia (nectar) which was common food of the gods. Immediately, Apollo grew strong and declared that he would be the master of the lyre and of archery. Thus, he became the patron god of poets, singers, and musicians.

Apollo Slays Python

Apollo grew quickly on his diet of ambrosia, and within four days he was thirsting to kill Python, who had tormented his mother. To avenge the hardships the creature brought upon his mother, Apollo sought Python and killed it in a cave in Delphi, with a set of bow and arrows given to him by Hephaestus. In most depictions, Apollo is described as still being a child when he kills Python.

Apollo Becomes a Slave

Enraged that Apollo had killed Python, one of her children, Gaia demanded that Apollo be banished to Tartarus for his crimes. However, Zeus disagreed and instead temporarily banned him from entering Mount Olympus. Zeus told his son to cleanse himself from his sin of murder if he wanted to return to the abode of the gods. Apollo understood and worked as a slave for King Admetus of Pherae for eight or nine years.

Admetus became Apollo’s favorite and the two are said to have been in a romantic relationship. Apollo helped Admetus to marry Alcestis and gave them his blessing at their wedding. Apollo valued Admetus so much that he even intervened and convinced the Fates to allow Admetus to live longer than they had designated.

After his service, Apollo was then ordered to travel to the Vale of Tempe to bath in the Peneus River. Zeus himself performed the cleansing rites and was finally given rights to the Delphic shrine, which he claimed. Apollo also demanded to be the sole god of divination, which Zeus obliged.

Apollo and Helios

Apollo is sometimes identified with Helios, god of the sun. Due to this identification, Apollo is depicted as riding a chariot pulled by four horses, moving the sun across the sky each day. However, Apollo wasn’t always associated with Helios as this only occurs in some versions.

Apollo in the Trojan War

Apollo fought on the side of Troy against the Greek. He offered assistance to Trojan heroes Glaukos, Aeneas, and Hector. He brought plague in the form of deadly arrows raining down on the Achaeans and is also cited as guiding Paris’ arrow to the heel of Achilles, in effect killing the invincible Greek hero.

Apollo Helps Heracles

Only Apollo was able to help Heracles, at the time known as Alcides, when the latter was struck with madness that made him kill his family. Wanting to purify himself, Alcides sought the help of the oracle of Apollo. Apollo then instructed him to serve a mortal king for 12 years and to complete the tasks given to him by such king. Apollo also gave Alcides a new name: Heracles.

Apollo and Prometheus

When Prometheus had stolen the fire and given it to the humans in defiance of Zeus’ orders, Zeus was angry and punished the Titan. He had him chained to a rock and tormented by an eagle who would eat out his liver every day, only to have it regrow to be eaten the next day. Apollo, together with his mother Leto and sister Artemis, pleaded with Zeus to release Prometheus from this eternal torture. Zeus was moved when he heard Apollo’s words and saw the tears in Leto’s and Artemis’ eyes. He then allowed Heracles to release Prometheus.

Apollo’s Music

The Greek philosopher Plato believes that our ability to appreciate rhythm, harmony, and music is a blessing from Apollo and the Muses. Several stories tell of Apollo’s mastery of music.

Pan vs. Apollo: On one occasion, Pan, inventor of the panpipes, challenged Apollo to a contest to prove that he was the better musician. Pan lost the challenge as almost everyone present chose Apollo as the winner, except for Midas. Midas was given the ears of an ass because he was deemed unable to appreciate music with human ears.

Apollo and the Lyre: Either Apollo or Hermes created the lyre, which became an important symbol of Apollo. When Apollo heard Hermes play the lyre, he immediately loved the instrument and offered to give Hermes the cattle he was after in exchange for the instrument. From then on, the lyre became Apollo’s instrument.

Apollo and Cinyras: To punish Cinyras for breaking a promise made to Agamemnon, Apollo challenged Cinyras to play the lyre in a contest. Naturally, Apollo won and Cinyras either killed himself at being defeated or was killed by Apollo.

Apollo and Marysas: Marysas, a satyr under a curse of Athena, believed he was a greater musician than Apollo and taunted Apollo and challenged him to a contest. In some versions, Apollo wins the contest and flays Marysas, while in other versions, Marysas accepts defeat and allows Apollo to flay him and make a wine sack out of him. In any case, the result is the same. Marysas meets a violent and brutal end at the hands of Apollo, is hung from a tree and flayed.

Apollo’s Romantic Interests

Apollo had many lovers and numerous children. He’s depicted as a handsome god and one that mortals and gods both found attractive.

Apollo and Daphne

One of the most popular stories involving Apollo relates to his feelings for Daphne, a nymph. Eros, the mischievous god of love, had shot Apollo with a golden arrow that made him fall in love, and Daphne with a lead arrow of hatred. When Apollo saw Daphne, he immediately fell for her and pursued her. However, Daphne rejected his advances and escaped from him. Daphne turned herself into a laurel tree to escape Apollo’s advances. This myth supposedly explains how the laurel tree originated and why Apollo is often depicted with laurel leaves.

Apollo and the Muses

The Muses were a group of nine beautiful goddesses who inspire art, music and literature, areas with which Apollo is also concerned. Apollo loved all nine muses and slept with them all, but he couldn’t decide which of them he wanted to marry and so he remained unwed.

Apollo and Hecuba

Hecuba was the wife of King Priam of Troy, father of Hector. Hecuba bore Apollo a son called Troilus. When Troilus was born, an oracle prophesied that as long as Troilus was alive and allowed to reach maturity, Troy would not fall. On hearing of this, Achilles ambushed and attacked Troilus, killing him and dismembering him. For this monstrosity, Apollo ensured that Achilles would be killed, by guiding Paris’ arrow towards his heel, Achilles’ most vulnerable point.

Apollo and Hyacinth

Apollo also had many male lovers, one of whom was Hyacinth, or Hyacinthus. A handsome Spartan prince, Hyacinth were lovers and deeply cared for each other. The two were practising throwing the discus when Hyacinth was struck by Apollo’s discus, taken off course by the jealous Zephyrus. Hyacinth was instantly killed.

Apollo was distraught and created a flower out of the blood that flowed from Hyacinth. This flower was named Hyacinth.

Apollo and Cyparissus

Cyparissus was another of Apollo’s male lovers. Once, Apollo gave Cyparissus a deer as a gift, but Cyparissus killed the deer by accident. He was so saddened by this that he asked Apollo to allow him to cry forever. Apollo turned him into a Cypress tree, which has a sad, drooping look with the sap leaking out in droplets like tears on the bark.

Symbols of Apollo

Apollo is often depicted with the following symbols:

Lyre – As god of music, the lyre represents Apollo’s mastery as a musician. It’s said that Apollo’s lyre could turn everyday objects into musical instruments.

Raven – This bird symbolizes Apollo’s anger. Ravens used to be white, but once, a raven brought back the message that Coronis, Apollo’s lover, was sleeping with another man. In anger, Apollo cursed the bird for not attacking the man, turning it black.

Laurel wreath – This goes back to his love for Daphne, who turned herself into a laurel tree to avoid Apollo’s advances. Laurel is also a symbol of victory and achievement.

Bow and arrow – Apollo used a bow and arrow to kill Python, his first significant achievement. This symbolizes his bravery, courage and skills.

Python – Python is the first antagonist that Apollo killed, and symbolizes Apollo’s strength and power.

Significance of Apollo in Modern Culture

The most popular manifestation of Apollo is the naming of the moon-bound NASA spacecraft after him.

A NASA executive thought the name was fitting, since the image of Apollo riding his chariot towards the sun was commensurate to the grand scale of the proposed moon landing.

As the patron of civilized arts, many theaters and performance halls across the world are also named after this god.

Apollo Facts

1- Who are Apollo’s parents?

Apollo’s parents are Zeus and Leto.

2- Where does Apollo live?

Apollo lives on Mount Olympus with the other Olympian gods.

3- Who are Apollo’s siblings?

Apollo had several siblings and a twin, Artemis.

4- Who are Apollo’s children?

Apollo had numerous children from mortals and goddesses. Of all his children, the most famous is Asclepius, god of medicine and healing.

5- Who is Apollo’s wife?

Apollo never married but he had many consorts, including Daphne, Coronis and several others. He also had numerous male lovers.

6- What are Apollo’s symbols?

Apollo is often depicted together with the lyre, laurel wreath, raven, bow and arrow and python.

7- What is Apollo the god of?

Apollo is the god of the sun, arts, music, healing, archery and many other things.

8- What is the Roman equivalent of Apollo?

Apollo is the only Greek deity to maintain the same name in Roman mythology. He’s known as Apollo.

Wrapping Up

Apollo remains one of the most loved and complex of the Greek gods. He had a significant impact on Greek society and his rule encompassed a great many areas.

https://symbolsage.com/music-and-light-greek-god/

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kasumi-chou · 8 years ago

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Prompt: Victor gets his hands on a professional camera!

Perfect (Highschool AU)

Yuuri isn’t sure how it happens, but itappears out of nowhere.

One day, the three-thousand-dollar camera –he googled it and nearly dropped dead in shock – just appeared in his boyfriend’shands.

They were poor college students thatstruggled to feed themselves, let alone Makkachin, the poodle they had saved acouple of months back, so how Victor got his hands on such an expensive camerawas beyond him. But he decided not to question it, knowing that it probably hadsomething to do with Victor’s family, something Victor didn’t talk about.

“Yuuri, smile.” Victor shouted, barelygiving him a second to blink before there was a sudden flash of light.

“Victor,” he huffed, “What have I saidabout warning?”

“I gave you warning, and it was just themost perfect moment.” Victor whined while holding the camera out of his reach.Despite only ever whining about the camera, Victor was sure never to let himget a hold of his camera.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, being denied alook at his boyfriend’s photos, what if Victor was taking pictures of girls?Other boys? Did Victor have other lovers?

He tried to push all the bad thoughts away,plaster on a smile, but Victor never left him along.

Fake smiles quickly turned to real ones inthe other man’s presence. Sad thoughts escaped him when they were together. Itwas just those moments alone, when he wasn’t sure where Victor was that worriedhim.

“Yuuri,” he hummed before gasping at thetwo arms the suddenly wrapped around his waist. “Can we go out today? There isthis garden I want to go too.”

“Of course,” he replied without a secondthought. Yuuri could never deny Victor what he wanted, especially when it wassomething as simple as joining him at the park.

He heard the camera shutter snap threetimes before opening an eye to stare at his boyfriend. A visit to the parkturned into a picnic at the park and after eating sandwiches and drinking somewarm too, Yuuri had settled down in the sun with the book he needed to read forclass and Victor’s jacket as a blanket.

Somewhere along the way, his eyes hadclosed, only opened when he heard the camera snapping pictures in hisdirection.

“Sorry, was I too loud?” Victor questioned,causing him to hum. “You were just so adorable.”

Yuuri let out a sigh as he shifted on hisside, away from his boyfriend while cuddling into his boyfriend’s jacket.

“No! Yuuri!” Victor whined while appearingbeside him in seconds and attempt to wrap him up in a hug. He tried to fightthe hug for only a moment before admitting defeat and letting himself gettangled in his boyfriend’s arms.

“I love you,” Victor mumbled while hugginghim tightly.

“Than stop taking photos of me,” he huffedin reply before turning to his boyfriend to kiss him softly.

“Hey Yuuri,” Phichit piped up as they satside by side in the library, Yuuri was trying to get this stupid code right forhis computer science project while Phichit was editing some photo for his photographyclass.

“Yes?” he said while pausing to check hisphone to make sure his boyfriend hadn’t killed it with hundreds of texts again.

“What’s Victor’s project about?” Yuuripaused and glanced towards his best friend curiously.

“Huh?” he questioned in confusion.

“Photography class? The massive project?”Phichit said with a raised eyebrow. “The camera.”

“That is where the camera came from?” Yuuriquestioned, earning himself a raised eyebrow.

“It’s worth almost sixty percent of ourwhole mark for the class. Pick a subject, collect fifty to a hundred photos andedit them for a show at the end of the semester. It’s due in like,” Phichitpaused to check the date on his laptop, “A week?” Phichit explained.

“Victor hasn’t mentioned it to me,” headmitted with a shrug.

“Oh, I see, pity. The teacher won’t stopgushing over all of Victor’s photos.” Phichit sighed before turning back to hislaptop. He sat staring at his best friend for a moment before shaking his headand returning to his coding.

Yuuri had better things to worry about thenhis boyfriend’s grades, like his own.

“Yuuri, I have this class showcasetomorrow, will you come with me?” Yuuri paused, a spoonful of cereal halfway tohis mouth.

“Tomorrow?” he questioned, earning a humfrom his boyfriend who was making mornings coffees for them both.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” he mumbledwhile eating the mouthful of cereal before setting his spoon down.

“It’s nothing overly fancy. Just a nicewear of pants and that blue shirt I like,” Victor said as he turned towardshim, one of his adorable heart-shaped smiles on his face.

“I mean, if you want me there,” Yuuri saidwith a shrug as he accepted the coffee offered to him.

“Please, pretty please.” Victor begged,giving him the puppy dog eyes, something he couldn’t refuse.

“Fine, but you are paying for dinner,” hesighed, earning an excited squeal and a kiss pressed to his cheek.

“Anything for you, my love.” Victor saidexcitedly before starting to tell him about something Chris (and only Chris, orso Victor swore) did to annoy a volleyball student.

“I feel out of place,” Yuuri mumbled whileclinging to his boyfriend’s hand.

Despite his boyfriend’s insistence that hewas dressed fine, he felt out of place. A number of people were wearing suitsand all the dresses that woman around him were stunning and clearly not meant for‘nothing overly fancy’.

“Yusha,” he glanced towards his boyfriendwho smiled gentle down at him. “We don’t have to say long, I just want to showyou something and then we can go, okay?”

Yuuri stared into Victor’s eyes for amoment before nodding his head.

“Good,” Victor said while leaning forwardsto press a soft kiss onto his forehead, “Just breathe. I am not going anywhere.”Yuuri took a deep breath before nodding his head.

Victor smiled before pulling him along,they walked through all the displays, pausing for Phichit’s display when hespotted his best friend talking about it with a small group. The theme of thesmall cubical was clearly cute animals, because that was what every picturefeatured. Yuuri smiled gently, especially when he spotted a couple of Makkachinthrown in.

Before he could say anything to Phichit,Victor was tugging him along. He whined but followed his boyfriend, refusing tolet go of Victor’s hand and his boyfriend didn’t seem to want to let go of hiseither.

“Just over here,” Victor said as theywalked a little bit further before coming to a halt outside a dully-lit stall.

Yuuri found his cheeks head up as he staredat the photos in front of him. The theme was writing in the centre of thedisplay, ‘Six Greek Loves’.

Six smaller words were spread across thestall, surrounded by photos. Eros, Philia, Ludus, Agape, Pragma and Philautia.

He noted that there was a number photos ofhim, all of them surrounding the word Eros.

“Victor,” he gasped as his eyes locked onone particular black and white picture of him naked in bed with the sheets onlycovering from his waist down.

“I love you,” Victor whispered in his ear,causing him to glances towards his boyfriend.

“I can’t believe you,” he mumbled inembarrassment before squeezing his boyfriends hand. “I love you too, you bigdork.”

Victor chuckled before leaning forwards tokiss him gently, “I got top marks, the teacher especially liked your bedroomshot.” He squeaked in embarrassment, causing a chuckle to leave Victor.

“God, you are perfect.”

#yoi #yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuuri #writing prompt #lovelytitania #highschool au #high school au

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thepensiverambler · 7 years ago

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Little by little

26th I woke as usual, sweat on my brow to find another still day. Today was hot. Really hot. In my opinion it was no hotter than any other day only we didn't have a nice cooling breeze. I tried to get into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast on their was a great big lock in the way. After searching long and hard for a key (little over a minute) I resigned myself to wait for the others to wake and come and find the key. Once they did come and we were finally all sat at breakfast chatter began to wander towards the daily plan. I had had aspirations of starting to flatten the ground on which to dig the volunteer house and to dig it's foundations. It became clear to me that no one was keen on doing any strenuous physical activity. I helped Cuba with the minor chore of cutting away to filler he'd used on the walls in the kitchen. I decided I would go and help Hanna to rake field. We needed to get rid of all dry grass and other plants in order to transform it into a nice area for workshops. We decided to burn the grass in a metal drum as we were Coldingham the grass. The burning was talking too long so we tried burning the grass in clumps on the ground. We took precautions to contain the fire such as digging a small trench to around the fire, wetting the ground around it and we watched it closely armed with watering cans. The fire escaped after a while and crawled 2 or 3 metres aways before we spotted it and jumped into action with our emergency water. At the end of the field was a patch of ground I hadn't noticed before on which nothing grew. Perfect for our fire. I told the others that was the place for us. I was called a genius and we set to work, for about 5 minutes. Ali shouted at us all saying that we were all going to the beach. Now at this point I know a lot of you may consider me grumpy but I really didn't want to go to the beach. I'd had a day off the previous day, and I had a task in hand that was different to mixing concrete. I had’nt come to Turkey to simply go to the beach when it was a little warmer than was comfortable. After a little rebellion I and 3 others remained at the village to work whilst the others left to the beach. I was alone in the field. A vast expance to clear with just a bucket and a rake. I set to work. I worked nonstop for 4 hours. Well I took water breaks of course. And one for a coffee. And a few dates. And maybe a slice of water melon and a fig. After my tireless work I had got to about halfway through the field, there was now a large mound of hay at one end of the field but all I could see was the work still at hand. The four of us took lunch (pasta and a salad). As we finishing our post lunch coffees the minibus of beach goers returned. To get out of the way I went back to my field to get on with the job. I had the aim of finishing it by the end of the day and I knew that if stopped too long I wouldn't be able do it alone. Bit between my teeth I worked without regard for the sweat dripping of my nose and occasionally into my mouth. No regard for my t-shirt stuck to me with a large T written across my chest in slightly darker maroon than the original. Hoping all the while my morning crew would return and lighten to the load yet team never did. I had to employ the help of another volunteer, Eros. We worked for an hour together until at last my herculean task was complete. I had a haystack down one end of the field large enough to feed the entirety of the Grand national horses for a year. It was huge. Easily 6 feet in height, 10 feet long and another 6 feet in width. Now for the fun part or the day. The fire. After a few safety precautions we torched the lot, played a little ‘cricket’ as it burned. Cricket consisted of being tossed a ball and trying to pull the ball (stone) so that it might rain down on the others that were still building the kitchen. The bat was a slat from a pallet, not quite the fine piece of willow to which I'm used but a bat nonetheless. The shot need to travel around 60 metres but even my best times shots were falling 10 metres short. I had to go to the cafe to get wifi to find out when I would be going to University. Yes I should probably have known this before I came out and started to plan travelling Turkey but I didn't. I got on the pink bike and enjoyed a nice cycle into town. I spent a little time sorting my life out until I met a couple of the new volunteers. One was a 19 year old Norwegian girl that I’d chatted a little at the village earlier in the day. We sat and chatted for a while, to put it nicely she talked too much, to put it less nicely the girl had verbal diahorrea. I don't mean to be too rude because I thought she was a sweet girl but good lord she enjoyed talking about herself. I enjoy meeting new people because you never know what they'll be like but there's only so much I want to talk about exams and university. I would have assumed that being the same age we'd have had a similar experience over the past year of everyday conversations about university and future. I'm sick of it. I don't care what uni you're going to. I don't care what you're studying. I don't care if you're nervous, excited or unsure about the experience. I really don't care if you're looking forward to freshers or not, it doesn't matter either way we both know you're going to turn up at freshers, get too drunk one time and think you're now a ‘hardcore student’. Regardless of this it's the common ground we found and, wishing we were both into football I covered the usual topics as though ticking them from my checklist. After some dinner we had delivered I got a lift home and went to bed. 27th I was picking up stones in the field when Beret came to me and asked if I wanted to come to the police station to distribute to a group picked up trying to cross to Chios that morning. Yes. Of course I did. We got in the car and drove to the shop picking 48 bottles of water and countless loaves of bread. We then drove to the cafe and picked up toys for the children and tinned beans. 200 metres down the road was the police station which was right on the sea front between 2 fancy bars. I nearly walked straight past it but the others turned in and we walked up the narrow steps into a courtyard. I was expecting to find 15 or so refugees sat in a hostile, white synthetic room with water coolers and cork boards. This was not the case, 30 or so refugees sat in the courtyard struggle to find shade from the midday heat. We went round handing out bread, water and toys for the children. The groups ranged from large families of women and children to couples to lone men. I didn't find out where they were from which would have such an impact on their future. It seems strange to think how these people could be treated so differently to me due to their place of birth. How they could be treated so differently to each other depending on whether they were Syrian or Iraqi. During my visit we were fortunate to be supervised by a nice police officer. He was friendly, opening a tin of beans for us and even fetching another loaf of bread when we ran out. We are lucky in Cesme that the police station is quite nice to give us a call when they've made arrests so that we can come and offer some relief. We're lucky in Cesme, to have quite a cooperative police station which will call us when they've made arrests. Sometimes they'll feed them, sometimes they won't. The police argue they don't have enough money to spend on food for refugees. Some policemen aren't as nice as the one we were supervised by today. Every volunteer who has spent a significant amount of time in a camp has witnessed violence from police officers. The worst thing as a volunteer is in these sorts of situations there's nothing you can do. If you interfere you jeopardise the relationship with charity and police which endangers the welfare of far more future refugees than the one receiving the beating. The situation reminds me of that of Rwanda when the UN force was sent in during the mass genocide with a mandate that wouldn't allow them to interfere with violence. Cases were reported where UN officers had to stand by whilst they watched the slaughter of men,women and children. The effects of the genocide has given both murderers and UN officials PTSD. I'm sure this crisis will do the same. I'm fortunate not to have witnessed much violence in my brief time volunteering. It's seems silly that in the total 4 or 5 days I've spent in the presence of both refugees and law enforcement that I should feel fortunate not to have witnessed grave violence. Cesme police station treats it's detainees well to a point. They often leave it a few hours until they call us, leaving refugees to grow more and more uncomfortable and hungry in the midday sun. I see no point in treating refugees poorly in detention. Some argue that it's to act as a deterrent, to teach them a lesson. These people are willing to risk their lives to get to Greece a few hours of discomfort is not going to do well as a deterrent. The proof of this is easy to find, today I heard of a man that had attempted the crossing 8 times unsuccessfully. So why not treat these poor people as human beings and not animals to be punished for attempting to improve their lives. 28th The news came that last night a boat had sunk attempting to make the crossing. 7 dead, 10 alive. It shook me a little as I'd been to a departing beach just days before, met with refugees that had attempted the crossing just yesterday. It made me think and question whether I doing all I could at this moment in time. Surely it's more important to save lives than to improve them. But what life can you lead without the possibility of betterment? Just crossing your fingers and hoping that you'll be able to save enough money over the summer to feed yourself for the winter. I was told in Calais that whatever we do will never be enough and it's true. You can be working 20 hours a day 7 days a week and you won't think that it's enough. All we can hope to do is improve lives little by little to a point where they can start to improve them on their own.

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facets-and-rainbows · 8 years ago

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Blue Exorcist: Spy Game (sneak peek!)

So Kazue Katoh posted a link on her Twitter to a preview of Spy Game, the new Blue Exorcist novel. And it was pretty fun! So I translated it. Enjoy!

WARNING IF YOU AREN’T PAST THE KYOTO ARC: THE ENTIRE PREMISE OF THIS STORY IS BUILT ON MANGA SPOILERS. TURN BACK. THIS IS NOT THE WAY YOU WANT TO LEARN WHAT HAPPENS IN VOLUME 12.

Shima Renzou was a realist.

Aside from acting unusually hyper around girls, he was a completely normal boy. He wasn’t passionate about anything besides the opposite sex; he felt everything was bothersome and just wanted an easy, happy life. He wasn’t an extreme optimist, but he wasn’t a complete pessimist either. In all his fifteen years he had never given a thought to the idea of blindly adoring something, of giving his loyalty or his devotion, let alone his life, to it.

And when he couldn’t accept the pressure he felt from everyone around him—he chose the life of a spy.

It was a late spring day, not long after he had started classes at True Cross Academy.

Shima walked through the door of the office in the Johann Faust mansion.

“Guten Morgen ☆ Welcome to my True Cross Academy.”

Lounging on a high-backed chair, Mephisto Pheles spread his arms wide. It was such an overdramatic gesture, but it suited him oddly well. “Are you feeling at home yet?”

“Well…The school is nice, and there’s a lot of pretty girls. I’m having fun.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mephisto responded with a little smirk. He looked like he was enjoying this, from the bottom of his heart, but at the same time he seemed bored with everything. Shima returned a little meaningless smile.

Johann Faust V. Also known as Mephisto Pheles…

Of course, those were only two of his many aliases.

He was actually demon royalty—the King of Time Samael, one of the Ba’al and the second most powerful being in Gehenna. At the same time, he had served the Knights of the True Cross for roughly two hundred years as Director of the Japan Branch, and held the title of Honorary Knight.

You never knew which of his faces was the real one. Definitely a shady character.

And he was the one who had scouted Shima and asked to employ him as his own personal spy, seeing qualities in him that no one else, not even Shima himself, had noticed.

“Do you know, Shima-kun,” asked Mephisto, in a meaningful tone, “the most important thing to consider as a spy?”

He’s asking this now? thought Shima, who had already been through a good deal of spy training. The question caught him off guard, but he answered with confidence.

“How you’re going to deceive and trick your enemy.”

But Mephisto shot him down. “That answer will earn you, oh, about sixty points,” he said, wearily stifling a yawn. “What’s important is the information you gain by doing that. Sun Tzu wrote that information is vitally important in battle.”

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

It was one of the most famous military strategy quotes out there. Even Shima had heard it before.

“You deceive and trick your enemy to obtain that precious information. To do this, you will at times need to be prepared to discard your family, your friends, and even yourself. In other words, you will need a strong mind, unswayed by anything.” He paused there for a moment.

“And so I’m assigning you three missions as training. Should you complete them successfully, I will give you this as a reward.” Mephisto slid a thick magazine across the desk.

Shima gave it a casual glance, and his expression changed instantly.

“!? I-Is that…” A high-pitched voice escaped his trembling lips. “No…there’s…there’s no way…”

Mephisto gazed calmly at Shima, who was obviously flustered, and gave an exaggerated nod.

“That’s right. An extremely rare magazine, said to be a collection of exclusive shots straight from the vaults of this Ero2King publication you love so much.”

“The-The one that disappeared from stores as soon as it was released?”

“Yes. Not only did it sell out immediately, it was deemed too extreme and never reprinted. Nowadays it’s a legendary issue, available only on auction sites with starting bids of 1 million yen—and this is the uncensored edition.”

“!! The…uncensored…edition, too?” Shima almost passed out from excitement right then and there, but he managed to get ahold of himself. He swallowed hard and lowered the tone of his voice a tad.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked with a naughty smile. “Isn’t it…kind of an ethical issue for someone who’s technically the principal to be flashing something like that at a student? I mean, technically you’re supposed to be an educator…”

“Well. I am a demon, after all,” Mephisto answered, nonchalantly.

“I’ll follow you for the rest of my life!” Shima responded, his eyes brighter and clearer than ever before. “I feel like I could go bungee jumping without the bungee cord for you right now.”

“That would just be suicide. …I assume this means we have a deal?”

“Of course!!”

Mephisto’s eyes narrowed to slits as he grinned. There was peril in those eyes, but only for a moment.

“Now, on to business. Can you tell me some of your weaknesses?”

“………Girls.” Shima’s instincts sensed danger, and it took him an unnaturally long time to respond. “Cute girls are my biggest weakness.”

“Oh?” Mephisto tilted his head theatrically. “Didn’t you say just a moment ago that you were enjoying the Academy because of all the cute girls here?”

“…No, see…” It was a painful blow, but Shima didn’t back down. “It’s because they’re my biggest weakness that I’m so drawn to them. Teenage hormones, you know?”

“Hehehe…very well, then.”

When he was done chuckling suggestively, Mephisto excused himself and took out his phone. He talked with someone for a while before merrily hanging up, then wheeled around to face Shima again.

“You’ll be accompanying Okumura-sensei on an assignment. This is your first mission.”

“Hm? With Okumura-sensei?” “Yes.” “What kind of assignment?” “A very easy one. ☆ Very easy!”

It’s a strange truth of the world, that being told something is easy again and again actually makes it sound more suspicious. But…

“Ero2King. Exclusive shots. Uncensored edition.”

“Of course I’ll go!!”

You just had to say the magic words, and Shima Renzou, avatar of desire that he was, was helpless to resist…

“Shima-kun, over here!”

“Oh. Okumura-sensei!”

Shima arrived at the designated spot to find his exorcism cram school teacher, Okumura Yukio, waving at him. Yukio was tall and slender, and his jet-black exorcist’s uniform looked good on him. He wore glasses on a face that wasn’t too flashy but was well-proportioned, and he definitely looked intelligent. And he always acted so calm and gentle. No wonder all the girls fell for him.

Then again, he always seemed like a worn-out middle manager even though he was only fifteen. Maybe that was why Shima rarely felt jealous of him. There’s no telling how you’ll be blessed in life and how you’ll be cursed—although if you said that to him it probably would have made him mad.

“Look at you, Sensei, at work on a Saturday like it’s no big deal. Must be tough. I think they call people like you ‘wage slaves’, you know?”

Yukio frowned as Shima came sauntering up to him. “Of all the things to do, I can’t believe you graffitied that bronze statue of Sir Pheles. What are you, a child?”

”Wha- oh. Hahaha. I just kinda did it on a whim…And Okumura-sensei, you do know we’re still kids, right?”

“Okay, then what are you, suicidal?” Yukio sighed, then muttered, “But still, sending a Page to fight…”

I get it. So that’s the story, huh?

Yukio must have been told that this poor unfortunate Page had angered the principal and been sent here as punishment. No one who knew anything about Mephisto’s personality would find that too out of the ordinary.

Now that he understood, Shima laughed meaninglessly and tried to smooth the situation over. He didn’t want to raise suspicion by saying anything weird.

“Our assignment is to clean out a building…” Yukio began to explain, with a look of resignation.

The building in question was an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Northern True Cross Town.

It was hard to tell how long it had been since it was used, but the large, dark grey factory towering before their eyes smelled of dust, mildew, and rust, and you could have used it for a horror movie set without even having to change anything.

“The factory used to belong to one of the best sweets companies in the business, but there was a terrible dispute among the owner’s family over would inherit the company, to the point that there was a suicide.” Apparently they had been plagued with misfortune after that, and profits declined. The company had gone out of business about a year ago. A while later, rumors had started circulating that ghosts wandered the abandoned factory every night.

“So it’s haunted by the ghost of the person who committed suicide?” “No. There was a preliminary investigation that didn’t find any ghosts. But a huge number of Coal Tars have spawned here; they were probably mistaken for a ghost.”

That’s it? Shima thought, taken aback.

Coal Tars were the weakest of all demons. Most people couldn’t see them, but they were floating around everywhere all the time. As long as they didn’t group together and fuse, they weren’t dangerous at all.

“They hadn’t found a buyer for the factory because of that, but now the president of an entertainment company wants to buy it as-is, so we’re just cleaning out the demons first.”

As he finished explaining, Yukio reached into the large sports bag at his feet and pulled out a portable sprayer labeled “HOLY WATER” and a few spare tanks.

“We’ll be using these.”

“Oh? Kinda reminds you of a certain ghost-fighting movie, doesn’t it? Pretty awesome♪” Shima took the sprayer and tried to strike a cool pose with it. “So I just have to get rid of the Coal Tars with this thing?”

But Yukio shook his head curtly.

“…No. There are a lot of the coal tars. We don’t know yet if there’s a Koks among them, so I’ll handle them.”

“Huh? Then…what am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll be taking care of the Chuchi.”

“Huh- What was that?”

“Chuchi.”

Shima went pale and started shaking. Yukio looked away awkwardly.

“There aren’t many of them, but some are possessing cockroaches. Try to concentrate on those. Now, if I remember correctly, you want to be an Aria, right?”

“!! I’ve got a stomachache, I’m going home!” Shima screamed. He tried to make a break for it, but Yukio grabbed him.

“Wha- Let go!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Why not?! You could do this job by yourself in your sleep! For the love of God, let go of me!”

“I would love to do that, but I’m under strict orders from Sir Pheles to have you deal with the Chuchi.”

“!?”

“I was also told not to let you run away under any circumstances. He’s threatened to cut my salary to one tenth of what it is now if I take mercy on you and let you go, so I’m sorry but…”

“One tenth? What kind of shady operation is he running?! Okay, but you can’t just sell out one of your beloved students over a little pay cut!! The Okumura-sensei I know would stand up to a threat like that to protect his students! Right? Right?!”

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I would use the term ‘beloved student’…” Yukio mumbled with a pained look on his face. “Besides, I need to make ends meet.” Not only did he start out casually saying something awful, he finished up with a line straight from a tired old man.

“Just remember, you brought this on yourself.”

“Okumura-sensei, you’re inhuman!! I hate you!! I’ll always hate you!! I’m gonna tell all your fangirls you’re a horrible person with weird fetishes!! I’ll tell them all!!” Shima cried, out of his mind with fear.

“────────”

It was like someone had flipped a switch inside of Yukio. He shouldered the sprayer and started dragging Shima along behind him, his face like a mask.

“Nooooooooooooooo!! I’m sorry!!!!! I didn’t mean it I didn’t mean it Ididn’tmeanit!!! Forget I said that!!!!! Forget that!!! Let’s just calm down and talk about this!!!! Okumura-sensei!!!!”

“I’m sorry, it appears I’m inhuman, so…”

“I said I didn’t mean it!!!! I was kidding!!! Please!!! Please don’t!!! Heeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllp!!! Somebody!!!! Bon!!! Koneko-saaaaaaaan!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

A pained scream echoed through the abandoned factory, and was cut short.

#blue exorcist #Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist novel #spy game #whose idea was it to leave those two alone in a room together #or THOSE two #there's like no happy friendly people here #this entire story is a bag of dicks #I love it #dat ghostbusters reference tho

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garkgatiss · 8 years ago

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#SherlockLive and Gothic EastEnders Premonitions

So as I was combing through the #SherlockLive thing to take down my notes and make this post, the guy’s inane EastEnders tweet, just days before his planned revenge suicide, really pricked my thumbs:

(x)

Apparently, this is why Sherlock needs someone with pop-culture knowledge on the team to help solve cases. And fair warning, this post is gonna end with Apple-Tree-Yard-level tin-hatting.

Welcome to The Fatboy Conspiracy?

So FIRST of all, it stuck out because I don’t know the first thing about EastEnders. I had no idea what the heck he was talking about, but apparently Fatboy, real name Arthur Chubbs, is a character on EastEnders. Or he was, until he apparently died after being trapped in the boot of a car and crushed in a car-crusher, circa Christmas 2015.

Too many car/death mirroring things going on. Also, Sherlock in the boot of the Aston Martin? Drawing specific attention to how “the boot was mean”?

Something’s fucky.

So in an attempt to understand the context of the tweet and figure out how much of it was fabricated/twisted to create clues for us and how much was actually just a dude frittering away his last hours on this earth kvetching about EastEnders, I googled the character and read a few episode plots. I realized that Daniel Collard is just literally tweeting in reaction to the big twist of the Christmas 2015 EastEnders episode.

This is just Joe Lidster, adding mundane details to flesh out a character’s TL. Right?

EXCEPT.

Daniel’s tweet is dated December 24.

The episode that raises the question of Fatboy in the boot isn’t until December 25.

The 2015 EastEnders Christmas Special

[Disclaimer: this is what I understand from published reviews and episode summaries, I ain’t never seen this show]

So in the lead-up to the Christmas Episode, in the EastEnders episode on Dec 24, Ronnie is plotting to kill/menace/torment Vince. Not Fatboy. She has somebody ready to grab Vince when he leaves the bar and stash him in the trunk of his own car. From the Dec 24 episode summary, this is what’s shown onscreen:

Ronnie tricks Vincent into leave the Albert, and then makes a call “He’s on his way”. [...] In the Arches, there’s a banging from the boot of Vincent’s car. As Ronnie gets a text saying ‘It’s done’, she has a customer, it’s Jack...

The Dec 24 episode appears to end with Vince trapped in the trunk of his own car, as planned by Ronnie and the mystery accomplice.

It isn’t until the next episode, Dec 25, that Vince is revealed to be alive and well. Ronnie, upon realizing this, first assumes that he somehow escaped from the boot. When he has no idea what she’s talking about, she runs to the garage where the car is. The final shot is her looking into the garage, only showing her shocked face and leaving the audience wondering what the heck she found there.

The BIG SHOCK TWIST of the hour-long Christmas Day Episode is that Vince isn’t in the boot, therefore: who is?

Reviews corroborate this:

(x)(x)

Daniel Collard is asking the exact same question as all these reviews and reactions, the same question that he could very reasonably have been asking on his real twitter in real life about a real television episode that really aired on Dec 25, 2015.

But he’s asking it a day too early.

I have a lot of questions. All of them are for Joe Lidster and start with WHAT THE HELL.

“There’s nothing new under the sun.”

The writers have been really good this season about walking us through an example deduction before asking us to make a very similar deduction on our own. Ammo to Amo leaves us the breadcrumbs to get from Eurus to Eros. The focus on media reputation during the in-show “Suicide of Fake Genius” lays out the context to understand the show’s own Reichenbach moment.

Now, we have #SherlockLive. Here’s a case that’s 1) solved on Twitter, which 2) hinges upon comparing the dates of tweets with other known events.

Now, within that same case, 3) our attention is specifically drawn, via Sherlock’s apparent ignorance of soap opera plotlines, to 4) a tweet that’s otherwise irrelevant to the case but that is 5) very suspiciously a day earlier than it ought to have been.

In a case whose solution hinges on the specific dates and content of tweets as compared to real world events.

I am trying my damnedest to talk myself out of this, because technically speaking - and this is a massive caveat - Fatboy IS in the boot by the close of the Dec 24 episode. This is revealed in the Dec 26 episode, where Vince stops the car in the middle of being crushed and seems to find Fatboy’s necklace in the boot. (I say “seems” because there is still. no. shot. of the actual contents of the boot.)

But by the way the cliffhangers are written, that is not what the general audience is meant to suspect on Dec 24. The whole twist of the next episode, the big Christmas shocker episode, fails if you already believe it’s not Vince in the boot.

And the way Daniel adds, “I missed the first few minutes” in his tweet. Missing the first few minutes of the Dec 24 episode would not affect your interpretation of its final scene. But in the Dec 25 episode, the audience's guesses as to who was in the boot are based on simple process of elimination of who’s been explicitly shown throughout the Dec 25 episode to not be in the boot. Missing the first few minutes of this episode would absolutely have the potential to change your prediction.

Ultimately what it comes down to for me is this: one solitary real person, out of all EastEnders viewers in the world, catching the tail end of the episode and for whatever reason thinking that Fatboy is in the boot on Dec 24, is not significant. Probably even likely.

But as a writer of a character, having Daniel guess Fatboy in the boot on Dec 25 means something very different from having Daniel guess Fatboy in the boot on Dec 24.

It’s very difficult for me to believe that Joe Lidster would go digging for material for a filler tweet circa Christmas 2015, choose what appears to be a very shocking twist in a very specific hour-long Christmas Episode that prompted a very specific audience reaction, reproduce that reaction in his character’s tweets, and then mistakenly place that reaction to the wrong date. And THEN draw attention to it via “Sherlock’s” pointing it out.

So. What happens when we assume that the tweet is misdated on purpose.

Setting aside the possibility of time-travel, did Daniel Collard guess Fatboy on Dec 24 out of just dumb luck? Would there be a reason to write Daniel Collard guessing TV show plotlines out of dumb luck? (Maybe, actually, but I’m seriously doubting there’s subtext in EastEnders for him to work with here, lmao.)

Did Daniel Collard have a premonition?

Now that’s an interesting choice of word. Particularly if you were to keep reading through these 2015 EastEnders Christmas Special recap articles...

“Are you having a premonition, brother mine?”

And my favorite:

(x)(x)

Gothic dreams! Keep in mind, this is December 2015.

The 2015 EastEnders Christmas Special aired exactly one week before The Abominable Bride.

Jane’s premonition is about someone dying in a car crash, by the way.

At this point, the whole episode summary becomes fascinating:

Premonition, attempted murder, car crash, blackmail, imminently fatal substance abuse. This is all sounding way too familiar. Either Sherlock is treading way too close to soap opera territory or Something’s Fucky.

The other articles that come up when you google Fatboy are truly fascinating. For instance:

(x)(x)

So, a lot of parallels that can be drawn, Apple-Tree-Yard-style, but nothing particularly informative that I’d drawing from all this. Except for maybe one thing.

The last really damning thing, the clincher for me really, is that, in googling what happened with Fatboy in the boot, one more episode stood out as relevant to the truth of his fate:

(x)

Apparently, as is revealed in this episode, the person responsible for Fatboy’s death is Claudette.

At the same time, Claudette reveals that she also killed her own husband.

Oh yeah, and there’s no March 9, 2016 EastEnders episode. This recap is for the episode from the day before.

March 8.

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allollipoppins · 8 years ago

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BIYAAMAYD Chapter 4 - Yuuri/Villain Harem Multishipping drabbles

Chapter 4 is now available on AO3!

1) Dance – Phichit

"Give me a show to die for, Puppet Master" he whispers in his ear. "Dance with me and let's pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist, yes?"

"Will you let the hostages go if I do?"

The Ringmaster chuckles. "I'm a man of my word, Puppet Master. But I'm not so sure I'll let you escape me so easily."

They stand face to face, circling each other in tune with the rhythm and atmosphere the song conveyed. Their limbs and bodies tilt and ripple, flexing and curving in harmony and in mirrored motions. The smooth, quick steps bring them closer then further away from one another, only ever touching through the gusts of hot air curling between their movements.

Neither pays heed to their unwilling audience, both lost in a world only their momentarily entwined hands and locked eyes can reach.

"I can always stay longer," the Puppet Master suggests as they sink to the ground, hands held high and poised in a praying manner as they put their legs into the next stance, ready to start ascending into harsher, springy steps for the continuation.

He swears the Ringmaster's answering smile could blind his audience if he willed it to. "I'd love nothing more."

2) Treat – Chris

"And what can I get you, sweetheart?"

Yuuri turns distractedly from the target, if only to nod in acknowledgement at the bartender, then takes a double turn.

The Dramatic Assassin in the flesh is currently standing before him, pouring the contents of his cocktail shaker into a tall glass filled with ice cubes and lemon, which he then puts in front of Yuuri.

"There you go, love, one mojito. It's on the house."

Yuuri eyes the glass suspiciously. At first sight there's nothing wrong with its contents: black straw in place, thin slices of lemon on the rim and mingling with ice cubes at the bottom, a clear green that reminds him vaguely of his enemy's own irises. Which, come to think of it, also kind of remind him of –

He shakes his head, chasing away that ridiculous thought. The pretend bartender only chuckles at his actions.

"It's only a cocktail, promise. No roofies, no poison, just a good ol' fashioned mojito."

He leans over the bar. "You can thank me later, my shift ends at 11." The Assassin winks at him and goes back to wiping shots glasses with his towel, whistling a tune the puppeteer can't catch.

Yuuri's eyes stay on him the entire time, sipping absentmindedly his drink and licking his lips to catch the remains of the liquid that escape his mouth. He doesn't miss once the way the blond's gaze focuses on him in these instants.

3) Sand – Georgi

Yuuri takes Georgi to Hasetsu weeks after they graduate, as a graduation present. The initial plan had been to buy himself a one-way ticket to Japan and fly off to Hasetsu to never come back ever again.

That, of course, had been five years ago. Now, a degree and a best friend later, he could not think of a better way to celebrate their newfound freedom, and friendship.

As much as he hates to admit it, he's glad that Georgi wasn't looking too forward to going back in Russia. Even though he'd admitted it was temporary – enough time to stay over at his parents' place and see the whole family again – , Georgi didn't have it in him yet to tell them Anya and him had broken up. Again. Yuuri had yet to get the "Met a pretty girl in the US?" talk from his parents, but it shouldn't take too long. Besides Georgi would be sleeping in the room next to his, rather than in the clients' section of the inn. Word of the only son taking a man back with him from his years spent studying abroad would definitely reach the whole village.

Not that he particularly cares at the moment. All that he wants right now is to spend his time in the hot springs, eat his mother's infamous pork cutlet bowl and take morning walks with Vicchan on the beach. All with his best friend in the entire world.

The next day, he finds the look on Georgi's face when the waves crash into them faster than expected is worth a thousand suns.

4) Salt – Eros

"Swallow," Yuuri commands. Eros does as ordered, the taste of fried egg and pork lingering on his tongue.

In the span of the half-decade they'd spent together, Eros had come to the conclusion that Yuuri had some sort of switch that made him change from his civilian identity to his vigilante one. He revered them both as one and only person, though he'd drawn a line between the imposing figure that was the Puppet Master and the comforting, loving Yuuri.

But to say he'd never once been scared of Yuuri Katsuki in the span of the last five years would be a fucking lie.

Somehow he's managed to make his boss lose his temper only twice – both times having coincidentally (or not) and indirectly involved his mother. He still shivers when thinking back of the way Yuuri's eyes had flickered when he'd admitted he found Mama Katsuki's Katsudon "decent".

After all, who the hell would dare call Hiroko Katsuki's homemade speciality "just decent?"

A man with dysfunctional taste buds, was what. "Even Victor Nikiforov had lost his grasp of English after having a single bite" a distant voice chimes in his ear.

He goes for the next bite, relishing Yuuri's smile at the gesture. No way in hell was he losing to that Russian imbecile.

5) Clip – Minami

"You should start off by cutting your hair. No respectable villain keeps a haircut like that." The Puppet Master, as he'd introduced himself, states and juts his chin in Minami's general direction. Shame overcomes his body in a matter of seconds. Being noticed by his problematic favorite is one thing; being judged for his lack of care in the hair department of all things, is another. And Minami only endeavours to please.

Before he can stop himself from committing something very out of line, he blurts out: "Would you teach me then? How to cut my hair?"

The masked man raises an eyebrow at his question. Minami, only realizing the full implication of his question, swears. What an idiot. What shit kind of villain asked his enemy for a haircut?

He's ready to take back his words when Puppet Master cuts him off, waving a hand dismissively and sighing. "Um whatever, I guess there's no harm in that. It's not like I have anything better to do for tonight. Got any scissors?"

In answer Minami only hands him his cards, taking them all out from under his sleeves one by one until they form a uniformed stack in his open palm, sharp edges glinting under the lamplight.

The man facing him sighs again. This is going to be a long night.

6) Bread – Victor

It doesn't take a genius to realize Ruthless Gold is looking a little out of sorts tonight.

Yuuri isn't sure what gives him away the most: his skin that looks a little paler than usual, the cheekbones which stand out more than usual (sharp enough he's certain he could cut himself just from touching one of his cheeks), the way his body moves far more slowly than it should as if the silver-haired villain were in a drunken or drowsy state, or the fact that his blue eyes lack their usual shine.

Not that he spends that much time looking at Ruthless Gold or caring either, thank you very much.

"Ruthless, when was the last time you ate?"

Said man turns lazily towards him, eyes lost in a faraway daze. "I don't know, maybe two, three days ago? A week? Hard to tell."

Yuuri has half a mind to want to scold him for his obvious lack of care, or slap him for behaving like an idiot. But the statement involuntarily makes warning bells ring in his ear.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's dragging Ruthless Gold bodily to the closest 24/7 grocery store, the both of them stumbling into the premade-food section. The cashier nods in their direction, seemingly too tired to care or notice who they actually are.

"There," Yuuri shoves a salmon and cream cheese sandwich pack along with a couple of dollar bills in Ruthless Gold's chest, shaking him awake in the process. "You go pay for that and eat it. Now."

He walks up to the checkout, not noticing how the villain's gaze shifts from staring at the sandwiches to his back.

"Ah,wait!" Victor yells, almost calling Yuuri by his name in the spur of the moment and catching himself in time. He jogs up to Yuuri, who represses a groan at having him breaking into his personal space. "Why are you doing this?"

Yuuri – or rather Puppet Master – raises an eyebrow. "Well, I can't exactly have my worst enemy starve to death, can I? Do me a favor and don't die on me when I'm not on duty."

The other gasps. "I am your worst enemy?"

Before he can take back his words, Yuuri is engulfed in a hug so tight he's close to losing his breath. "Oh, Puppet," Ruthless cooes in his ear, "you're my worst enemy too!"

In spite of the cowl and makeup shielding Yuuri's face, Ruthless can tell the puppeteer's cheeks are turning various shades of red. He puts his hands on his chest, pushing him away (and lingering a little on the muscles he feels under his palms, Victor notes with satisfaction). "Ye-yeah well," the vigilante turns his head away, stuttering slightly, "it's not that hard to achieve either. S' not like you're my only enemy, anyway." He goes for the sliding doors, rushing to leave.

"That's not what it sounded like, Puppet Master!" Ruthless calls after him as he exits the store.

He could steal the sandwiches and keep the money for all Yuuri cares. As long as he quits being such a dork.

7) Fish – Otabek

The first time Yuuri goes to Otabek's place for a date, he's not sure what to expect. After all, one can only think so much when the guy they're interested in asks "Are you coming in or not?". Blunt, short and simple with a commanding edge, something that suited the Kazakh policeman very well.

When it turns out Otabek intends to cook for him on their first date instead of giving him a one-night stand, he's pleasantly surprised to find that the cop is a perfect gentleman – not that he expected any less from him.

Otabek announces that he'll make fish shashlik but politely refuses Yuuri's help, despite his assurance that he follows rules to the t and is a good cook (an understatement if he weren't so humble, but he can't always take Eros' words for granted). Hopefully he can pay back the favor on their next date – because he knows there will be a second date, and a third date, and more to come afterwards. Yuuri mentally thanks all the deities he can think of for the fact that Otabek is a deist Muslim. Makes the prospect of feeding him katsudon all the more easy.

Yuuri wishes he could explore the rest of the apartment, maybe find out more about his new coworker, but he's not comfortable doing it without Otabek by his side; otherwise he might as well be intruding. For the timebeing he enjoys the view he gets from his seat at the counter, Otabek's back facing him while he marinates the fish with spices and other condiments, one hand sometimes swatting at his cat to keep him from nipping at the raw meat.

Besides, there's something fascinating and downright hypnotic about watching the Kazakh cook for the both of them, the swiftness and gentleness of his movements when he handles the food a nice change from the rougher everyday routines his other partners follow.

Who knows? If Otabek's in the mood later, he wouldn't mind seeing what else these hands are capable of.

8) Race – Yuri

Come sleep or consciousness, Yuri Plisetsky is always running for his life.

The voices are always there, somewhere at the back of his mind, taunting him and drawing closer at every corner. Most of the time he can take pride in admitting he has them under control, and rebuke any offered help; for every provocation he bites back, cutting into people with an ease and familiarity that is almost frightening and fills him with a near-maddening impression of power. But on other days, he feels more than ever the need to scream.

Celebrity enhances the dread pulling and tugging at something in his chest – his heart? He's been told he had none, that's impossible. Opening his eyes wide or keeping them tightly shut won't make a difference. All bodies turn to shadows, any frenetic, hysterical chanting of his name becomes a slur, an open insult and order to submit to a nameless crowd ready to engulf him, swallow him whole at any second. The world is his enemy, pushing him closer to the edge of a cliff by the minute and commanding him to dance, dance, dance, until he falls into the darkness.

Arms come to embrace him, a soothing voice starts to ring in his ear.

He's been caught.

9) Poor – JJ

Yuuri doesn't understand how anyone could possibly hate JJ.

Sure, the officer can come across as a bit of a brat at first sight. And that is as nice a comment as possible, especially coming from people who'd be willing to go much further in their criticism of one of the oldest members of the force. Yuuri himself had needed some time to rub off the initial discomfort he felt when around his coworker – but to be honest, this was in greater part due to a deep-rooted fear of cops and law-enforcement officers, nothing all too personal.

Most of what comes to his mind whenever he thinks of JJ is the quintessential image of the good cop; that one guy who wolfs down donuts after donuts with black coffee on a sunny day without gaining a pound, but who still has smears of jam and powdered sugar on his lips that he's more than happy to wipe off for him; the man who boxes shirtless and lets sweat gleam on his skin and tattoos, never stopping unless he's sure he's gone through his entire workout schedule; the person who, in spite of representing the next generation of a blue-blooded family whose connection with security forces dates back to centuries, always works hard day after day to prove his worth in a system that still spits on him for not sharing a full American inheritage.

It matters most on the days Yuuri pays him visits at the shooting range or the boxing club, catching JJ adjusting his engagement ring on his finger when he knows for sure the ring isn't too tight nor too loose on the digit. On days like this he lets JJ drag him out for burgers and fries and beer at the nearest diner – a common favorite – , then drive them up to the hills to watch the stars.

He always kisses him on the cheek when they drops him off, reassuring him he's as bright as any star in the solar system.

10) Rich – Seung

For a man who sells millions of copies of his books on every possible platform and writes articles for a crime magazine on a regular basis, Seung-Gil still finds it in him to live like a college student.

If he threw in a wild guess, his fellow coworker probably hadn't changed apartments since his first year in the US. Seung-Gil has the efficiency of a man who buys the exact amount of food needed for three daily meals and a monthly supply of dog food (with added treats and toys that, when asked, are of "utmost importance).

Fame has its perks when it all comes down to that: at least Yuuri knows who to contact when he's shopping for dog toys to celebrate Vicchan's birthday, or when he just wants to spend a Sunday afternoon in peace. But otherwise he two of them never waste money or food on mutual agreement, and always cook homemade side dishes for brunch. And when it starts to get warmer they'll snuggle on the couch, with Seung-Gil working on his drafts and potential future articles while Yuuri naps, the dogs never to far away. He supposes he could get used to it.

#my writing #yoi villain au #multishipping #yuuri/harem #yuuriharemheadcanons #allollipoppins

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originaldetectivesheep · 7 years ago

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The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - Escape From Lavender Crest

What would it take for you to take off your headset, leave your room, and go outside for once? The end of the world? For Wilbur McClellan, it might; don't be Wilbur. Seriously, don't -- you can see why below the fold.

Escape From Lavender Crest

First off, I want to be clear that this wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault: if they didn't want me to stay in my room, they wouldn't've made it en suite. There are houses that don't have a bathroom in the kids' rooms – I know, I was in some of them, way back, before mom and dad decided that they didn't want me playing with those people. It's possible; it didn't have to be this way. And also, it's not nearly my fault so much as it's Studio Ciccolata's fault: if their games weren't so good, I wouldn't have to spend so much time in my room. I would have noticed. It's not my fault.

But, you know, they did build my room like that, and it's not my fault that the Tsunderemusume series is so good; I got started on Tsunderemusume 2: Omae, doutei jiyanainou?, and once you finish Manako's arc in that once, there's nothing you can do but just go on and finish the whole game, and then all of the arcs in the next three. It's not my fault – a game this good, there was nothing I could do but just keep going, and if I skipped meals mom would just bring them up, and it's not like I had school or a job to go to, so I kept going. And you know, Tsunderemusume 5: Anatanara kitto – hitori de shinderu, it's so good in the mid-game where Shiriko and Kumacchi's routes haven't separated yet that I didn't really care that the food stopped coming. In the middle of the night when I got hungry, I could just go down to the fridge and get something, and then keep playing. It went on, and I finished up not just the normal routes, but also the secret Hanabata-chan route where you have to grab the teacher's breasts in the first dialogue choice and you think you're on a bad end for the next fifty-seven hours but them HNNNNNGH! SO GOOD!, and when I went to the official site to register my code for the complete clear even though they weren't doing the sticker promotion any more, I couldn't get online.

I cleared the Wi-Fi like a dozen times, and then I actually tried plugging a cable in, but it still didn't work. I reset the router a bunch of times, and that still didn't work. I tried my phone – I didn't use it much after I got kickbanned from Twitter for … reasons, and it wasn't like I had friends calling or texting on it – but I couldn't get a data connection, and then when I tried to make a phone call – to 911, because I didn't know any other numbers – it just went to a dial tone. I went downstairs to ask mom if there was like an internet outage or something, but even though it was daytime, there was nobody there.

I looked all over the house, but it was empty. Two of the cars were still in the garage, so if everybody left, they all left together. Maybe they were just out for some reason – some weird reason that everyone had to all be in one car together. I turned on the TV to see if there was a terrorist attack or a nuclear war or if the blacks had started killing everyone, but the cable was out. Maybe there was – maybe it was zombies. I pushed and shoved to get one of the bookcases in the foyer in front of the door, just in case, but since there wasn't anything I could do about it, I went back upstairs. I mean, I still had Tsunderemusume 6: Mattaku, doushiyomonai yatsu da ze to play, and there was still food in the fridge. And if mom or dad came back, they would come in through the garage, and they probably wouldn't get too mad about the bookcase.

They didn't. I know they didn't come back, because the fridge ran out of food. And the internet was out, so I couldn't order a pizza or something. Like maybe I could have called, but how was I going to find the number if I couldn't look on the internet? But I didn't think of that then – I was just standing staring at the fridge in my crocs, wondering if I was going to starve to death. Everyone had really gone – and I hadn't heard them going because I had my headphones on for Hanabata-chan's ero scenes. So it wasn't my fault – it wasn't my fault, but now I was going to starve to death anyway.

Or, that's what I thought, at first. The fridge was out, but I hadn't exhausted this node yet. I checked all through the house – there was some crap in the pantry that I could, like maybe eat, and some of it I wouldn't have to maybe hurt myself trying to open with a can opener. I still had a backpack from when I was in school, so I put some of the food in that; not too much, though – if I was going to have to carry it myself, I wouldn't want it weighing me down. If it wasn't too far, though, it would be enough for me to get to someone's base or settlement, and then I could earn my keep fixing their computers. Well, if I didn't get robbed and eaten by mutants or zombies or blacks on the way.

I looked through the house again to try and find dad's guns. I knew he had some – he talked enough about how he'd have to defend the house after things broke down with the Obamacare and the Obamaphones – but I couldn't find any just like lying out, and I couldn't figure out the combination on the big gun safe. They probably took them all when they left anyway, if they had to drive through the outside and stuff. I gave up and was depressed for a while, but I got over it, mostly because I had to go back to the pantry to eat something, and that was when I remembered there were knives in the kitchen. I picked the biggest one, then found a pole in the garage, and some duct tape, and before I even realized I'd gained the skill I'd crafted my spear – I still have it. I was pretty pleased with myself, and I made sure to take the tape, and some of the other knives, in case I found a powered up pole on my journey, so that I could craft another one without disenchanting the one I had. I couldn't find any armor or anything, but I wasn't concerned: you usually find something ok in the starting zone before things get too hard.

That was the thing though: sooner or later I had to leave the house – and walk somewhere. I wasn't sure whether it was better to go during the day or night: if it was a war and stuff it would probably be night, but if it was zombies that would definitely be bad. Definitely. So I took my spear and my 3DS and sat up waiting overnight to see if anything tried to attack the door. I fell asleep after the battery ran out, but nothing attacked, so night would be safe. The next day, after dark, I carefully moved the bookcase out of the way, equipped my spear, and snuck out the door to see if I could find the path to the next zone.

It gets really dark, you know – there weren't any streetlights, so it was just the moon and the stars. I couldn't see anything, and I got really scared, and then it was forever to walk anywhere. The streets went around and around in circles, and I didn't know whose any of the houses were, or how to get all the way out of the development – or how to find my way back to my own house if I got out too far and couldn't find anyone to team up with. I had a panic attack and had to sit down, and then I was tired from walking, so I ended up falling asleep on somebody's lawn and I didn't wake up until the morning. If I didn't get eaten or murdered from that, though, it was ok to walk around in the daytime, then – at least out here. It took a while, but I found my way back home.

If I could walk around in the daylight, this would be easier – but it was still going to be hard. I was still almost out of food, and I was tired out from walking around all night. I took a nap on the sofa and then when I woke up, almost dark out, I gathered up my spear and backpack and hiked all the way across the street to the next house to see if they had any food I could borrow. I knocked, but there was no answer; maybe they were afraid of mutants like I was, so I went over and checked their garage. Their cars were gone too. If they were gone – if everyone was gone – then I could just walk in like a NPC house. Right? That was ok, right?

Anyway, I broke out some of the glass in their door with the back end of my spear, and then unlocked the door. It took a while to find their pantry because it was dark, but there were no alarms and nobody shot me, so they were gone and their power was out too. I found a few boxes of cookies and crackers, and even though it was heavy with all this stuff, I made it back to my own house and was able to get to sleep. I had enough food for a while, and I had my spear. I figured I'd ground enough in the training zone, and after a good rest I could go and look for the Next Point.

I woke up around noon, and equipped all my stuff. With the sun out it was easy to see where I was going, even if walking all the way was tiring. I didn't take too many breaks, and by the end of the day I was out past the gate (it was open, no guard or anything) and at a road. I didn't remember which way it was to get to the highway from the road, and I couldn't hear anything like cars or trucks: I took a break, then picked a direction and started walking. After a while I came up to a sign that the highway was the other way; I turned around and walked back.

It was dark out and I was very tired when I finally got up to the highway: if civilization had collapsed, there wouldn't be traffic, and I could just follow it to the next settlement instead of having to join somebody's gang to have a car. The ramp was steep, and I had to take a break at the top to catch my breath; when I stood up, though, right away I saw the lights of the city. It was like it just filled itself in on my minimap: I puffed up and took a good long look at it. It might take a while, but I could get there! I mean, I'd already walked this far, right? And there might be other towns on the way to get side quests and extra supplies!

Then I heard it – somebody's engine. I ran off the highway and hid, down in the grass where they couldn't see me. I had to be careful – I had to be careful of war boys and mutants and blacks, and that meant that as long as I was on the highway, I couldn't just walk around by day. I hid in the grass for a long time, and then rushed across the overpass bridge as fast as I could and hid under a tree on the other side.

It took a long time – a really long time. Walking is hard work, and I had to do it in the dark, and hide whenever I heard a car coming. And I ran out of food after a couple days, and after that I spent longer resting to conserve my energy. But I got used to it – I leveled up, I definitely leveled up. The problem came on the last day, as the highway got close to the city. There still weren't any cars, but there wasn't any more trees or bushes along the road to hide in. I had to get off at the next exit, and take my chances on the mean city streets. I gripped my spear real hard, and hoped that I hadn't fast-traveled past zones that I was supposed to level in.

On the streets the houses were tall but tiny, really tiny, and there were lights on for streetlights. I had to sneak between them as best as I could – I had an old tarp I'd found on the side of the road that gave me a bonus to hide in the bushes, but it wasn't helping here. I was scared, scared and my teeth were chattering – what if I got jumped by a gang? What if there were mutants? What if it was the Obama police taking over? I couldn't just knock on a door – not in the middle of the night, whoever would just shoot or call the Crips or the Warriors or the NSA. I had to find someplace safe, someplace hidden to spend the day, somewhere I could defend with my spear if it came to that.

Then I found it – a little booth on the street like an outdoor closet, with a bench inside. This would be ok – anybody going past in a car wouldn't notice me inside with the tarp over me. I sat on the bench and wrapped up in the tarp, my spear on my shoulder and close at hand – and I was so exhausted that I guess as soon as I sat down, I fell asleep.

"And that," Sergeant Lyle Jackson of the Charlottesburg Police Department said, slapping his pen down to the desk, "is how you got to be found sleeping in a bus shelter all grubby in a sheet with a bread knife taped to a broom handle, and all these people who were sharing you as #SittingBall this morning were just being mean, not committing a f'real hate crime. Right." A junior officer handed him a sheet over his shoulder, and he scowled. "Even if you don't know where exactly you came from, Mr. McClellan, we do now – we got your old school records from county, and this Lavender Crest development is just this side of Leesville."

Wilbur looked blank, still rubbing his wrists where he'd been briefly handcuffed. "What? So? I don't know where that is."

"I mean your house is less than fifteen miles from where you were picked up. According to you it took you two weeks to go that far."

"It was dark! I'm not good at this! I was scared! What if there were zombies, or bl– or gangs, gangs like in Mad Max! Civilization collapsed, didn't it?"

Sgt. Jackson decided to give the part where the manchild in his spare chair was afraid of blacks a miss and get to the point. "No, civilization did not goddamn collapse. A bunch of Abkhazian or somewhatever separatists blew up a bunch of oil refineries, and gas went up to twelve bucks a gallon. So most people picked up out of the sticks to stay close in where there's trains or buses and you can walk to the store until gas got normal again, but it hasn't yet and people like it here. All over the country you got warehouses full up of CPAs and trophy wives like they were Williamsburg hipsters; and they like it – you'd'a never thought it, the shit they were saying when they first come in, but you live in the hood and get to know some people, I guess it changes your mind. That, and not sitting in traffic for half an hour to get a gallon of milk. Who the hell'd'a thought – and incidentally, how in the hell did you think civilization collapsed? Were you really not paying any goddamn attention to anything at all for a month and a half?"

Wilbur stared at his shoes. "I told you – I told you, didn't I? Everyone was gone – and before that I was really into the game. I explained all this – don't you know how stuck you can get into a good galge? Maybe, if, like, you never played one, then maybe you wouldn't understand."

"No," Sergeant Jackson said, his eyebrows threatening to detach themselves from his face and leap into orbit, "no, I don't, and one way or another, if understanding makes you the kind of dude who thinks there's a zombie apocalypse when his folks ditch him in the suburbs, then takes two weeks to do a two days' hike, I guess I'm pretty glad that I never will. Doesn't matter; just sit tight till I finish this, then we can run you over to the CHA to go find who's'ever's gonna be stuck with your dumb nerd ass for a roommate." The cop leaned down over the paperwork on his desk, and Wilbur, ears burning, wished desperately for a way to hit the reload button before the auto-mode finished running him down to the worst and most humiliating Bad End.

#fiction #30and1nights

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