#anyway this was a lot easier to order in a way that sounds nice and flows well than i expected

[dredshirtroberts]

To be so clear I am also regularly in denial about how much pain i'm just in

even with meds, even with rest, even if I haven't done anything in a week, even if i did only good things the day before, even if the exercise was necessary

buuuuut the meds do take the edge off (still in pain but less which is a net good) and i can always tell when they've worn out (naproxen SAYS it's good for 8-12 hours and I get Maybe 7.5 on a good day). I'm attempting to change to preemptive pain relief from chasing pain constantly and it's hard. But we're getting better.

speaking of which. Naproxen time.

i think i'm like. really in denial sometimes about how much pain i'm just Casually In...

OH NO WAIT HANG ON WAIT ACTUALLY MY MEDICINE WORE OFF AND I DID LIKE A LOT OF UNANTICIPATED ACTIVITY NEVER MIND I'M DUMB I'M HURTING FOR ACTUAL REASONS THIS TIME

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 23 || The Party Era

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language,  fluff, violence, drugs, & slight mention of alcohol consumption.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.8k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AFTER THAT INTIMATE morning, you and Gojo consider yourselves to be on decent enough terms. Of course, you still hate him-- or, at least you think you do, and he slowly begins to change in a good way.

When he talks to you, which is more often than before since you're no longer trying to ignore his existence unless necessary, his tone is always soft and filled to the brim with affection. You try not to bring up the fact that he claimed to be in love with you but it was extremely difficult not to think about it.

Blackmail or not, you can't just ignore his confession.

Shoko mentioned that he was in love with you before but you didn't want to believe her so, now that he's told you, you genuinely don't know how to feel.

His words echo in your brain constantly, so much so that it grows annoying. It's like you can't unhear it-- Gojo really said he was in love with you. It wasn't a dream, wasn't something someone else told you he said, and it wasn't a lie, Gojo Satoru confessed his love to you.

You hate it though.

You despise the fact that he loves you. To you, it's almost entitled for him to feel like he has that right. How dare he hold such a strong emotion for you? If he felt this way, why is he forcing you to sleep with people for him? It makes no sense.

Why would someone claim to love you and put you through so much?

If he's been in love with you all this time, why start the list in the first place? Why couldn't he have just tried to win your heart from the beginning? Why the list? Why the blackmail? You don't understand him.

A sigh escapes you as you think about it. By this point in time, it's roughly been two weeks since that faithful morning and you can't stop thinking about it. You have so many questions, wondering to yourself when it'll all make sense.

Then, there's also the longing you feel in your chest to see Choso again.

Of course, you haven't stopped thinking about him. You can't wait for the list to be over. The fact that there are only two people left makes it feel like a lot less pressure on you.

From here on out, you just want everything to go smoothly-- that's all you ask for.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

In the two weeks you spent at peace with Gojo, you and him have talked about who your next target should be; Sukuna or Nanami?

He tried to explain that Sukuna would be easier than Nanami but you quickly told him that you're not sure you trust his difficulty levels when no one you've seduced has been that hard. Well, with the exception of Mr. Fushiguro, seducing him took weeks of you pretending you had some kind of assignment to complete.

But even so, you still managed to pull that off. If anything, you felt a little more confident in yourself about seducing the last two people, thinking it'd be a nice walk in the park from here on out.

With this newfound confidence in yourself, you tried telling Gojo that it didn't matter which order you seduced the last two in. "Almost every difficulty level you've given me so far has been wrong, y'know..." You told him over the phone.

Though you couldn't see it, his lips pulled into a pout, "That's not true, sweets... Suguru was medium, no?"

"No, Satoru, he was easy..." You hum, "The only reason he'd be considered anything close to medium is because I had to get used to his uhm... teasing."

Gojo smiles foolishly at the way you say his name, his heart swelling in his chest over such a simple conversation with you, "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He hums, "Anyway, it's still up to you who you wanna go for first, I was just sayin' Sukuna will be easier."

You sigh, "How so?"

"Well for starters, he's having a party this Thursday so like..." Gojo shrugs sheepishly on the other side of the phone, "If you're free, you could come there with me and meet him."

"Uhuh... And what about Nanami?" You question as you jot things down in your journal, your body comfortably laid out across your bed.

"Hmmmm..." Gojo hums dramatically in thought, "I think there's a bar he goes to every weekend?"

"You think?" Your eyes narrow, "I need you to be sure."

"I'm like ninety-nine point nine percent sure." He says, "He goes on Friday nights so, y'know..."

"Are you suggesting that I formally meet Sukuna and Nanami, then decide who I want to sleep with first?" You ask for clarification.

"Pretty much, yeah."

You look around your room for a second in thought before shrugging, "Alright, sounds like a plan."

Gojo smiles, "Really? So... you do realize this means you'll be going to a party with me, right?"

"Okay?"

Curiosity sparks within him, "Do you even like parties?"

"Eh, I haven't had enough friends to want to go recently. But, I used to go to them a lot during Freshman year." You explain casually, earning a hum from him.

"Aww, and you didn't invite meee?" Gojo whines.

"I didn't know you, Satoru..." You sigh, finding yourself smiling ever so slightly at his silliness, "We literally met this semester."

"Sure about that?" He asks as if you don't recall talking to him for the first time early that August.

"Uhm, yes?" You arch a brow, "What, do you remember us talking before this year or something?"

"Nah." He hums, "But I do remember seeing you around a lot."

You begin to close your journal, "Really?"

"Mhm."

"And you never said hi?" You tease, mocking his earlier joke to you.

Gojo chuckles nervously, "I was too shy."

"Oh please." Your eyes roll, "You? Shy? Yeah right." A scoff leaves your lips in reaction to his claims.

"I'm serious." He emphasizes.

"Whatever..." You decide to brush off the topic. The phone call has lasted long enough so, you try to end it, "Anywho, we have a plan all worked out so text me the details for this party and I'll see you then."

"Aww," Gojo pouts again, "You're hanging up so soon?"

"Yes."

"C'mon, I wanted to talk some more..."

You scoff and your voice is sarcastic as you respond, "Skill issue."

Gojo bursts out laughing, "Seriously?"

"Suck it up pretty boy," You joke further, "We'll talk later."

He smiles from ear to ear, "Oh? You think I'm pretty?"

"Bye Satoru." You say flatly.

He sighs heavily and gives up, "Bye sweetheart." There's then a second of silence as you move the phone away from your ear but his next words make you freeze, "I love you."

Your heart pulses strongly, "...If you're expecting me to say it back, you're going to be disappointed."

He chuckles lightly, "I don't expect you to say it back, jus' want to make sure you don't forget."

You couldn't possibly forget that. "Right, okay, bye." The phone is quickly removed from your ear to end the call and then you toss the device across the bed.

Your heart is beating so rapidly for some reason. You do not feel the same way for him but that doesn't change the fact that hearing those words from someone makes you feel all tingly inside.

After only a second or two of gushing at his words, you return to your usual neutral mindset and pick your journal up. Your body slides off the bed and you walk to the drawer you keep it in, making sure to lock it as you place the item inside. Then, you sigh and head back to your bed.

Flopping down face first, you groan into your pillow-- wondering how the rest of this will play out. It feels weird to be on speaking terms with Gojo again. You can't exactly say you missed it but you also couldn't say you didn't enjoy it, even though the conversation wasn't long.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

With that, the rest of the week leading up to Thursday went by in a blur like always. Your schoolwork hardly ever overwhelmed you since you had that very well organized and for once, life somewhat felt like it was entering an era of peace again.

However, deep down inside you still missed Choso.

Not talking to him daily or hardly ever anymore really made you remember how boring your free time was. Perhaps that's why Thursday came so fast...

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, your hands tracing over the silhouette this expensive dark red dress provided for you-- the item being something Gojo bought for you the very second you told him you weren't sure what to wear.

For someone who so easily deposited money into your account every time you slept with someone and bought you things the very second you made even the slightest complaint, you wondered what the hell he was in debt for.

Perhaps all of the people on the list truly couldn't be paid with money? Even so, you can't help but question what the hell he did to these men to the point where payment in the form of sexual satisfaction was established.

Toji is the only person on the list that you know the backstory for but, even then you still don't know how sexual satisfaction was agreed as a method of payment. And to add to those questions, does Gojo tell the men after you sleep with them that you were his form of payment?

If so... wouldn't that technically mean Choso should know about that?

You groan slightly as you get confused just thinking about it. It's like you're missing so much information here. The entire thing is steadily starting to make less and less sense as you go on. Not to mention the fact that he said he deleted the video of you a long time ago.

Does that mean he considered letting you go from the list? How long has he had the video erased from his phone?

You finally shake out of your thoughts when the man in question sends you a text, the chime from your cell prompting you to turn your head to the idle device on your bathroom counter. You pick it up to see a simple text that reads; 'I'm downstairs, sweetheart'.

You simply leave the man on read before making sure you have everything and heading out of your bathroom. Once you make it out of your bedroom, you spot Shoko typing away on her laptop in the living room.

The sound of you closing your room door makes her turn her head back to look at you. She gives you a wolf whistle and flashes that pretty smile of hers at you, "Heyyy beautiful." She greets teasingly.

You smile, "Hey roomie, how do I look?"

"For a party hosted by Sukuna, I'd say pretty damn good." It's no surprise that she knows who's hosting the party you're going to, Shoko always seems to be up to date with those kinda things.

A chuckle leaves your lips while you make your way to the front door, "Thank you but, I'm surprised you're not coming."

She shrugs, "I have like four assignments due tonight and my professor is a complete bitch about turning things in late." A little frown pulls at her lips, "Any other day, I'd totally go with you though."

"Maybe next time," You suggest, smiling at her, "Oh, and, I know this is a weird question but like, do you know his full name?"

"Who, Sukuna?" Shoko asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah." You nod. The memory of Choso hardly ever speaking about the guy he's supposedly related to runs through your head and you find it odd since he always seems so family-orientated.

"Itadori Sukuna, last time I checked." Shoko informs you, "But if you call him by his last name he'll be a dickhead about it. I think he hates it 'cause that's what connects him to his younger brother or something."

You blink. That somewhat explains a few things, "Damn, you sure know a lot..."

Shoko winks, "Benefits of going to parties to be nosy, you should do it more often."

With a laugh, you nod your head, "Well, thanks for that."

She flashes you one last smile and then raises her hand to wave you bye as you open the door and exit the apartment.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you get downstairs and to Gojo's car and quickly seat yourself in the passenger seat, his eyes are all over your appearance like he's starstruck.

A handsome smile spreads across his face, "You're absolutely breathtaking, y'know that?" Gojo complements.

You roll your eyes and begin putting your seatbelt on, "Seeing as you're able to speak perfectly fine, it doesn't sound like I'm all that breath-taking." You fire in response.

He chuckles and his bright blue eyes slip up and down your body, "You didn't hear the way I choked when I saw you walking toward the car."

"Aw, did you?" You respond mockingly.

"Mhm..." He hums lowly, suddenly focusing more on your face. His head is resting on the palm of his hand as he leans against the console in between the two of you.

You swallow and then just barely turn your face to him, "Plan on staring at me all night?"

"If I had the option to, I definitely would," Gojo says honestly.

You roll your eyes at him again and scoff.

"I'm serious." He utters, "If I got a dollar for every time your face has made my brain turn to mush, I'd be a fuckin' trillionaire."

With a sigh, you nod your chin toward the steering wheel in front of him, "Drive your car, Satoru. We don't have all night."

Gojo's eyes soften for a second as he actually loses himself in staring at you, "...You heal me," He suddenly says.

"What?" Your brows furrow and your face twists up while you meet his gaze.

He looks into your eyes for a second longer before turning his head to face forward, "I'm a broken man, sweetheart." Gojo explains as he moves his large veiny hands to the wheel in front of him, "And you... you heal me little by little every day."

You're unsure what to make of his poetic claims. Is this another type of confession? What does he mean he's broken? How do you heal him? What the hell is going on inside that brain of his??

Gojo glances over at you one more time, moving his hand to poke the center of your forehead, "Don't think on it too much, you'll get a headache trying to decipher my nonsense, sweets." He says in a soft tone.

You find it weird he even refers to his own claims as nonsense when it's far from such a thing. The things he starting to say to you are becoming more and more complex, hidden meaning behind his words and secret bittersweet implications slipped in between his claims.

You gently move his finger away from your head and nod, "Whatever... just drive already."

Gojo smiles, "Yes ma'am."

With that, he returns his hand to the wheel and does exactly as you've told him to, quickly driving to the destination of the party.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There, you could hear lively music blaring from outside this large mansion. The place wasn't too far from where your campus is and you wondered how you went so long without ever being aware of its existence.

As stated before, you used to be quite the partier and most venues have been blessed with your presence. Yet, there you were, getting out of the car with Gojo and heading inside a house you'd surprisingly never been inside before.

Outside of the large estate, you spotted all kinds of people doing all kinds of things. It was expected and all but it had been such a long time since you've seen people having this much fun.

For starters, Choso isn't a partier. Why do you think about that now? Well, you asked him about it but he told you the chances of anyone catching him at a party are zero to none. He much rather be at home engrossed in his artwork.

There's another instance where you're wondering how different of a person Sukuna is in comparison to Choso. Especially when this big ass party is being hosted by him.

Gojo suddenly swings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him while the two of you walk down the main path toward the entrance. The big double doors to the house are wide open, partygoers are scattered absolutely everywhere, and a large chunk of people are spotted inside.

Your gaze shoots over to the man all too close to you, "Satoru..."

"Sweetheart..." He replies.

"Why is your arm around me?" You question flatly.

He chuckles, a big smile painted across his overly handsome face, "I don't want you to get lost."

You blink, glancing away from Gojo and spotting people dancing, laughing, drinking, and even fucking in some places. Scrunching your face up at that last thing you spot, you continue to question Gojo, "What if Sukuna sees us like this?"

"He won't." He hums in response.

"How do you know?"

"Well... around a time like now, that asshole is probably somewhere in the middle of the party," Gojo explains.

The way he refers to Sukuna as an asshole has you worried. Are you going to have to deal with another Naoya?

Swallowing down a large gulp of nerves, you bat your eyelashes at Gojo, "Asshole...?"

He tenses up beside you for some unknown reason, "Uh... I mean, yeah." He shrugs, "Sukuna isn't the nicest guy in the world, everyone knows that."

"I didn't." You respond dryly, then you raise a brow in question, "He's not gonna be like Naoya though... right?"

Gojo looks down at you, finding your worried pout cute, and flashing a comforting smile at you, "No sweetheart, Sukuna's an asshole but..." His expression flickers and his smile fades away. He swallows and then clears his throat, "I'm pretty sure he'll satisfy you just fine."

The two of you finally enter the house and Gojo looks around, greeting some people he knows with a nod of his head while the two of you conversate.

You narrow your eyes at him, "Are you sure?"

Music is heard blaring further on in the party but you two haven't gone deep enough inside to not be able to hear each other yet.

"Fuckin' positive," Gojo suddenly sounds pissed and you grow concerned. The arm around you gets a little tighter while he walks you through some crowds and you keep looking at the man confused.

There's a vein popping out along his jawline because of how hard he's gritting his teeth. You're confused about what pissed him off so suddenly, "What's wrong?"

He avoids looking at you, "Nothing sweets, just know he'll take greeeat care of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You murmur. The softness of your voice alone helps Gojo to somewhat come back to his senses.

"Sukuna..." Gojo pauses, thinking hard about something before shaking the thought away, "He uh... How do I say this... He'll," The man looks down at you again, "He'll be nice to you."

"...Will he?"

"Yeah, you're cute." Gojo compliments, shrugging all his thoughts off, "He likes cute girls."

"There's plenty of cute girls at this party," You point out, "What makes me so special?"

"Everything."

You scoff, "What-"

"This is about to be your eleventh question since we've been here." Gojo cuts off before giving you a comforting little smile, "Relax, everything will be fine, okay? Trust me."

Your lips purse together as you decide to drop all your questions for now.

Both of you continue walking deeper and deeper into the party, the volume of the music soon engulfing almost all of your senses. People were dancing all over the place, you saw a few drinking games taking place, some people were gathered together smoking, and it was all so lively.

While you walked with Gojo, you couldn't help but notice the way girls gawked at the man beside you, their eyes all over his face, and jealousy noticed in their expressions after they spotted you beside him. What made the whole thing better was the fact that Gojo didn't even glance at them.

The only woman whose eyes he ever looks into is yours. The only person's body he's drooling over is yours. Hell, the only person at this party Gojo even cared about was you.

At some point, he stopped to talk to some people he knew and you just stood quietly by his side. Gojo would give the people he spoke to this murderous glare if they even so much as peeked at you.

You wondered if you imagined the looks he gave some guys up until one was caught staring at your cleavage by Gojo. The man beside you tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, "Fuck are you starin' at?" He spat out.

You were oblivious to what was going on at first until you saw who he was talking to; some weirdo leaning against a wall gawking at woman after woman. When he noticed Gojo was talking to him you watched how he immediately teared his eyes off you.

Gojo then dragged you along, making his way toward a dance floor. You looked up at him, "You look like you're gonna stab someone...." You said playfully, mocking him for the wicked look in his eyes.

He smiles and that look completely disappears, almost as if it were never there, to begin with. Meeting your gaze, Gojo pouts, "Who, me?"

"Yes you, don't try to act all innocent."

He snickers, "Stabing isn't the way I'd go about hurting someone but, alright."

"People stare at me all the time, y'know... You can't keep glaring like that." You say, looking away from him, "Especially when I'm not even your girlfriend or anything."

"So?" Gojo scoffs, "I don't like seeing people look at you like that and I couldn't care less if you aren't my girlfriend," He suddenly leans down to you and his eyes go dark again, "You're by my side, in my arms..." He explains lowly, "And even if it's not reciprocated, you're my love."

You stare, seeing the same look he had in his eyes that day he caught you, the same look he gave you when he said he wanted you. Gulping, you try to respond, "Satoru-,"

"I'm serious. They can look at any other chick in this party, just not you. Especially not when you're with me." Gojo claims.

"That's a bit possessive don't you think?" You point out, halfway joking.

"Oh, trust me," He smiles as if it's no big deal, "I'm aware."

You open your mouth to say something but he suddenly leans up and takes his arm off you, "Anyways, I'm pretty sure you'll find Sukuna somewhere in all that," He instructs, nodding toward the group of people dancing and shouting on the main floor. He starts backing away from you, "Text me if you don't though."

"You're leaving me?" You say dumbfoundedly.

"Well, Sukuna can't spot us together..."

"Right." Your lips purse together and you nod, the two of you finally splitting for the first time that night.

The music is so loud that you can feel the vibrations from the base of your toes as you walk into the crowd. You steadily begin to dance by yourself for a moment and at one point you get a drink to help you loosen up.

You didn't plan to overdo it or anything because the last thing you wanted was to be horny and drunk all over again but, you did get enough to give you a little buzz. The smell of weed was strong throughout the dancefloor and you would've partaken in that too but you definitely don't trust drugs from just anyone.

As your body sways with the music, you end up dancing back into some guy on accident but when you try to move, hands go to your waist and your hips, immediately making you uncomfortable. You tried not to make a scene about this random man touching you, casually trying to dance away from him.

Your body language made it so painfully obvious that you didn't want this guy touching on you and you eventually turned your head back to him, noticing that it was the same person Gojo snapped at earlier.

That realization caused goosebumps to form all over your skin and you tried telling the man to back off you. He definitely heard you but clearly ignored you, going as far as groping your ass and creepily smiling at you.

You grit your teeth and elbow the weirdo back away from you, creating only a bit of distance between you and him since there are so many people around. The creep still misses the hint and tries to come close to you again.

In the blink of your eye, one second he was trying to come to touch you again and the next you saw a fist make contact with his jaw, a crack heard even through the music as his body stumbled to the side and then made contact with the floor.

Your eyes went wide at the sight and some people around you cheered. Was getting punched in the jaw like this some kind of regular occurrence? Why were people cheering and laughing so suddenly?

The guy was out cold on the floor, people dancing around his still body as you stood in shock.

The person who punched the fuck out of him was standing where he once was and you turned around to face the guy.

Your heart probably skipped fourteen beats at the sight in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame, smiling maliciously at the motionless body on the ground, with dark yet attractive tattoos decorating his handsome face, bright pink hair, and harsh maroon eyes, Sukuna stood proudly before you.

You batted your eyes at the man, in complete awe of everything about him. The shirt he wore was sleeveless, revealing even more tattoos that went along his large shoulder, his bicep, and his wrist.

With a snarky laugh, you watch as he then disrespectfully spits on the knocked-out man's body, "Disgusting." Sukuna hummed.

Those sharp and surprisingly scary eyes of his snap over to you, the only person shocked by what just happened. The smile that was once spread across his face drops completely when he looks at you. You can feel every hair on your head stand up as you meet his gaze, your spine goes rigid and you think you start sweating.

Sukuna turns to face you and takes a simple step toward your nervous body, tipping his torso down and toward you so that he can be at eye level with you. You think you stop breathing entirely.

Why the fuck is he so intimidating? Why did he stop smiling? Why does he look like he's about to punch you next? Your heart is pounding against your ribcage and you don't think any man has ever made you this utterly nervous from just a glance before.

His rose-tinted lips part and his voice is so low and deep you could feel your body getting tense, "This is the part where you say thank you."

You blink, "Th-Thanks." You hated yourself for stuttering.

He tutts, "Nono, not 'thanks', thank you, brat."  Sukuna corrects.

"Thank you," You say, your voice small.

He smiles at you, the sight making your heart race. A sexy and slightly raspy chuckle leaves the male, "Thaaat's more like it, good girl."

A strong throb of arousal thrums in your core at the sound of his words. It's embarrassing how such a simple phrase has you turned on already.

It was at that very moment you realized that this man was going to be different than the rest. Not Choso level different and not in any romantic sense but, the small conversation and his aura made one thing very clear.

Sukuna was in a league of his own. This man was a damn beast and you were both scared and excited to explore that.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩��𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[anderscim]

✦ a really old minitheory about jax that had been left in my drafts for nearly a year

title is pretty self-explanatory.

// spoilers for the pilot episode of TADC

so, this is actually an old theory that i had created back when the pilot first came out—but i decided that it’s worth sharing now. basically, it summarizes what i think could possibly be a reason behind our favorite rabbitoid’s behavior.

take everything with a grain of salt. (^^)

this might sound like a weird place to start from, but i swear there’s a line of thinking behind it—what could be some of the reasons that a character abstracts?

at the very least, we know for sure that abstraction occurs if a character’s mental state entirely collapses—which could happen for a myriad of reasons. mental breakdown, existential crisis, you name it.

however, the most important effect that comes with abstraction is that they completely lose their sense of identity—which is also shown externally with the abstracted character’s appearance.

this led me to think that a possible reason for abstraction could also play into identity—whether that’s losing it, somehow messing with it one way or another, or, in a crazy scenario, doing something (aka recovering original memories, for example) that would cause them to clash with their current identity. things like that. obviously there’s some very strong theories out there as to what could also be other reasons for abstracting, but for now i’ll stick with the simpler explanations.

okay, but what does this have to do with jax?

basically, i needed to set up the previous context in order to be able to explain a possible reason for jax’s… jacka$$ery. yeah. that works.

as far as i can tell, it looks like he’s essentially being mean to everyone else just for the sake of it. from (allegedly) placing a centipede in ragatha’s room, to constantly bullying gangle, to pretty much every snide comment in general—it seems that he’s completely cemented his role as the “mean guy” of the series. but what if that was his goal?

the reason why i partly discussed identity in the abstraction section is because, to me, it seems like jax is setting up his own identity as the rudest and most chaotic character in the cast as a way to ensure his survival in this digital world for as long as possible. or in other words, this identity of his is something he can consistently fall back onto no matter what happens, which allows him to keep his mental stability a bit better than others. it’s a simple role that was developed only within the context of the digital circus, and he seems completely comfortable with staying in it.

additionally, here are some other circumstances where he could just fall back on his “identity”— - something bad happens to him? sure, let’s call it karma. - in the event that he does something that causes a bit too much destruction? it’s fine, he’s supposed to be the guy that would do something like that anyways. (edit: he did exactly this in episode 2. just my luck. help me.) - hurts someone on accident? wouldn’t be out of the question. maybe even intentionally if the time calls for it.

overall, it feels like his current place as the “rude character” makes it a lot easier for him to stay consistent and keep things less complicated. being nice is difficult and nuanced, you may unintentionally hurt someone by saying the wrong thing—but if you’re already known to harm people one way or another, there’s absolutely no mistakes you can make.

and for jax, it’s a way to keep himself grounded while causing a ton of chaos on the side—which he seems to like doing, so it works. this is pretty much a foolproof method of survival for him; at least, until something happens which he doesn’t expect.

but this is all just speculation. feel free to chime in with some of your own insights (´∀｀*)

———

edit: yes, this is pretty old haha. but i think it still somewhat holds true for episode 2, so i’m posting it for now. would be kinda funny if i was entirely wrong about this though (￣ ￣)

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Assuming the farmer has social anxiety and they're really scared of approaching the towns people when they first moved in (except Lewis and Robin because it was practically forced interaction lol), how do you think the towns people approach the farmer or how long does it take for the farmer to approach them? Sorry if this sounds like a lot, you can write anything and any length 🥹🥹

Hey, dear anon 👋 Thanks for your ask ❤️

The question is quite interesting, by the way. I decided to write about all the residents of the Valley, so I apologise that the answer took so long. Anyway, enjoy!

How quickly the townspeople become friends with the shy Farmer:

Oh, the new farmer decided to visit the Saloon after all? Let them sit down, then. Gus noticed that the shy Farmer came here to meet new people, but they was still afraid even to address Gus himself and ordered dinner, sitting at the farthest table. He would be quite cautious and very polite to Farmer. However, you won't get a long conversation - other customers are waiting. So the Farmer will have to try their luck at friendship with Gus after hours. Considering his good-naturedness, it won't be difficult even for Farmer.

In Shane's case, a man who has no desire to get to know the new residents of this town (he hardly interacts with the locals either, except for his aunt and niece and maybe Sam) the time to get to know each other will be quite long. A year or more. It's going to be very slow, and most likely Farmer themself needs to make the first step towards friendship.

Clint didn't really care who it was that had come to their forgotten little town, which for some unknown reason he had also been brought to. The local blacksmith was hardly sociable, rather the opposite, a perpetually sullen and shy pessimist. Therefore, he will not actively seek acquaintance and friendship with Farmer. So the young grower of various crops needs to make the first step. It is better to start with amethysts, they are easier to get.

Given that Harvey is a rather good-natured and patient man, and also wants to maintain a good relationship with his patients, it doesn't matter who makes the first move - both Farmer and Harvey will quickly find common ground. A month, maybe a little less.

Grandma Evelyn will welcome Farmer with open arms. Having learned from Lewis that the new Farmer is very shy, she will be the first to start a dialogue and do everything she can to make her old friend's grandchild feel at home in the Valley. About from delicious baked goods sent in the mail, or simple greetings in the main square as she tends to the flowers. Even the shyest of people will want to make friends with her, such a sweet Granny!

Farmer doesn't have to worry about introducing themself to the strange man who lives in a high tower far from Pelican Town - Rasmodius is already the first to write a letter and the first to start a conversation when the youth crosses the threshold of his domain. Passionate more in the knowledge about the mystical 'Junimo', the Wizard pays no heed to Farmer's faint attempts to get to know him better. Maybe later, when he has some time free from magical research. He's not overly social, and he often speaks in riddles, but still quite a nice person. Albeit a bit odd, but in a year's time he can be called an unusual friend.

To be honest, in the Spring Year 1 Alex will first try to start a dialogue with the newcomer, but he will quickly lose interest and may not even remember the existence of Farmer at all. And if they do have a small dialogue, Alex is unlikely to remember it. The first step will be made by him, and taking into account that the young athlete will most often praise himself as a future sports star, the conversation will be... so-so. It will take a lot of time and Farmer's patience for Alex to reveal himself to be the real deal, not the boastful brat.

Like her regular dance partner at the Flower Festival, Haley doesn't seem to notice Farmer's presence at all, with only her sister constantly buzzing in her ear that someone has arrived in Pelican Town and settled on the old farm. Straightforward, sometimes tactless in her comments about the appearance of Farmer, and flippant - many who do not know Haley intimately will not have the best first impression. So it will take a lot of time (and self-control) to get to know her better.

Demetrius, preoccupied with his experiments, would not impose his acquaintance on the newcomer, only make polite introductions and inform them that his daughter also wanted to welcome Farmer. Stuck in his notes or constantly in the lab, Farmer will have to try a little harder to draw the scientist's attention to themself and make a friendly conversation. In principle, a few attempts during half a year - and they will quickly find a common language.

With Abigail, it would depend on her mood. Some days she will take a interest in the Farmer, ask questions and slowly become buddies. However, there are days when a fight with her parents or something else makes her mad, and the purple-haired girl can bark at Farmer in such a way that they have no desire to communicate further. But she is quite friendly, so friendship with her will start after a few months, and she will be the initiator.

Oh, Penny... Two very shy people who have exchanged greetings, and now stand in silence, absolute awkward silence... But interestingly, they will become friends pretty quickly, the key is to find a small interesting topic (Farmer will probably talk first) and the conversation will develop into another conversation, and another, and another. And *poof* - friendship!

Emily saw Farmer for the first time and was immediately like - instant mutuals. She feels Farmer's aura, the little sparks in their eyes, and realises they are going to be best friends! The girl will often invite Farmer to her house for tea, or to show her new outfits she has sewn. Maybe if they want to, she'll make something nice for them too? She is easy to get along with, and in a month Emily and Farmer will be besties!

Marlon is a man of few word, and not to say that he actively seeks friendship with the people of the Valley. He is a lone wolf by nature, and the only friend he can name is Gil, who, by the way, is also a man of few word. On the other hand, if Farmer feels uncomfortable with so many people in Pelican Town, Guild and two old adventurers will warmly welcome Farmer to their cosy base, treat them to campfire soup and share tales. So slowly but surely the friendship of the two older guild members with the youngest will form.

Grumpy, distrustful of new faces, a bit rude - George definitely wouldn't be called a conversation buddy. And he certainly wouldn't interrupt his favourite TV show to have a chat with the new Farmer. He's not trying to be rude on purpose, no. It's just that due to his advanced age he can be impatient, so the Farmer will have to be patient and make the first move to talk. Six or eight months is about enough time for George to trust them.

Jas and Vincent will behave completely opposite to each other: while Sam's younger brother needs only a few snails or a piece of pink cake to call the Farmer his best friend, Jas will be more wary, remembering that Aunt Marnie and Uncle Shane always said not to talk to strangers. However, if the shy farmer finds a common language with Marnie or Shane first, then Jas herself will take a step towards friendship. With Vincent it will be about a couple of months, for Jas longer, but they will soon understand that the Farmer is quite a good person and not boring adult.

Well, it's safe to say that it was Farmer who was the first to strike up a dialogue and friendship with Leo. The boy is very shy on his own, but parrot friends are his friends, so slowly but surely he and Farmer become friends. I would give it a year for Leo to fully trust Farmer.

Gunther is in the library most of the time, so the introduction only happened with Farmer when they brought an interesting artefact. Not to say that the museum keeper wants to be friends with them that much, but if they don't mind being pals - then Gunther won't say no. Or conversely, if the Farmer feels uncomfortable and too shy, he'll leave them alone. If Farmer is so interested, then let them visit Gunther more often, he has many interesting stories, and they'll become pals in no time.

Oh, a human? Here in the sewers? Please don't be frightened by Krobus, he's completely harmless, he'll even sell you interesting goods. Friendship? Oh, well, it can get very lonely in here. The Farmer's not going to harm Krobus, correct? Then, shall we be friends? Also polite and shy, Farmer and Krobus will quickly find common ground.

With her aerobics club, Caroline knows how difficult and scary it can be to get to know a new community. Some fit right in with their little group right away, some took a little more time. So Caroline will endeavour to make the atmosphere in her husband's shop as welcoming as possible for Farmer, just so they don't feel uncomfortable. 3-4 months of small conversations - and, well, a friendship began.

Caroline's husband, Pierre, on the other hand... Well, he'll be the first to engage in dialogue, that's for sure. Except that he sees Farmer first as a potential customer who needs to be wooed with tempting discounts on seeds and a friendly atmosphere so that they will definitely only buy from his shop. If Yoba has gifted the Farmer with universal patience, then they can try to bond with Pierre as buddies, at least, and not just as buyer/seller.

To Farmer's great regret, Morris is even worse than Pierre..... Social anxiety? No anxiety, because discounted merchandise at JojaMart will save the Farmer all the trouble! Marketing from Yoba, for crying out loud... If for some reason Farmer decided to give the chance to be friends with Morris, they'd have to try their best to talk to the perpetually busy manager of a huge company about something unrelated to that very company.

Willy is your man! Even if Farmer isn't too interested in fishing, the old sailor can still quickly become a good friend for a shy newcomer in Stardew Valley. Silently fishing, telling tales of his fishing adventures or just a little conversation - good-natured enough, he will become a good friend in as little as two or three months.

Heh, If a Farmer kid puts a free mug of cold beer next to Pam, she will already call them a friend! Ha ha! Eh, don't mind her, she's just kidding. But seriously, if you want Pam's favour, it would be a good idea to start with ale or beer, and then you can get to know her. If the poor shy Farmer is against alcohol, they could fill Pam up with a mountain of her favourite parsnips - and in one spring they'll be besties!

Sebastian is not what you would call an outgoing personality or conversation buddy, so Farmer needs to be the first to strike up a dialogue with the local emo. Sebby himself is also shy, and it takes quite a while for the first step towards friendship. Six to nine months, maybe a little sooner if Farmer and Sebby are in the company of Abby and Sam. You find friendship faster in a collective somehow.

Oh, there they are! The cause of much discussion and various rumours in Pelican Town over the last week! Oh, no no, nothing bad has been said. Elliott was just intrigued and eager to meet the new Farmer who had come from the big city to seek happiness in the Valley. He's only recently arrived too, you know. But the writer realises that moving to another place is tiring, and meeting a new community can be a bit scary. So when the Farmer is the first to give the sign, Elliott is happy to talk about his life and ask about the life of the new Farmer. Five months is enough time to build a strong friendship.

Although Leah lives alone in her cottage near the forest, the red-haired artist doesn't mind guests at all. So she is very welcoming to the new Farmer, who is trying to get over their nervousness and get to know all the residents. A big bonus if during their stay at Leah's house the Farmer decides to treat the her to some wild mushrooms or vegetables they've managed to grow on their farm. In a couple of months, the two neighbours will become real friends, constantly exchanging forest gifts and interesting stories.

If the Farmer loves animals, they already have Marnie as a friend. Always cheerful and optimistic - the new Farmer will quickly find common ground with her. Of course, she needs to get to know them better before selling her favourite animals, but she can already let the Farmer pet her favourite goats or cows if they are feeling stressed by their new acquaintances. Affectionate animals will immediately calm and cheer up the Farmer, + 10 point to building friendship with Marnie. Be an honest and decent person, don't forget to respect the animals, and then you'll become Marnie's friend in a few months.

Oh, Jodi had time to discuss with her friends all the rumours about the new Farmer who had arrived in the Valley. And the rumours were naturally different from reality, because Jodi hadn't expected them to be so shy. Oh well, everyone is different. She doesn't mind chatting to Farmer sometimes, but doesn't actively seek friendship, as she has so much to do around the house!

As for Kent... It's pretty complicated here. Tired and exhausted, he's trying to get away from all the horrors he's been through, and although he was the first to greet Farmer at the start of Year Two, he's not going to chase after Farmer and offer friendship. Kent is... trying to come round. So it may take Farmer more than a year to bond with him and let him remember that before he left Pelican Town, he had and has, in addition to a loving family, friends- old friends, and a new one too!

Oh, oh, oh! And Maru was just looking for the newly arrived Farmer to meet! New people in a small town are always interesting, so the young inventor doesn't miss the opportunity to introduce herself, not forgetting to recommend that they also introduce themselves to her parents and half-brother. Will gladly listen to the Farmer, or have no problem leaving them alone if they are still too shy and trying to get used to the local community. Three months is enough time for the two of them to hang out in the lab and discuss different topics like a nerds.

Please don't think that Linus is a rude and cold person, he is not. It's just that people's scepticism towards him and his chosen lifestyle has made Linus behave very cautiously around strangers. Though Stardew Valley villagers are more kind than in other places, caution never hurts. Farmer has to be patient to gain friendship with a wild man who happens to be very learned, kind and wise. But they will know this only when the Farmer gets to know Linus better, and that will take at least six months.

Oh, they moved in already? Sam heard that someone new is coming to the old farm. The musician doesn't mind new faces in the Valley at all, as this could be a potential friend to hang out with. Considering he's always chilling and a real soul of the company, it's easy to make a friendship with him right away. He has the personality of a golden retriever.

If Farmer isn't a spy of the Shadow People, then Dwarf doesn't mind getting to know each other at all. It's been a long time since he's talked to humans, and he has so many important questions that interest him so much (about milk, for example). Quite a bit surprised when the conversation makes the Farmer nervous and says they're shy. Well, they were the ones who broke through the rubble-filled passage to the cave with their pickaxe, so it's too late to be shy. And there's no arguing about it. As with the Clint, a mountain of amethysts is a guarantee of friendship with the Dwarf, so in four months he'll stop suspecting them of espionage. But it's not certain.

Wonderful! Robin and Lewis are pleased that, despite their shyness, the new Farmer has found common ground with some of the people of Stardew Valley already. Robin, by the way, thought she and the town mayor maybe had gone a little overboard by practically forcing their acquaintance on the poor Farmer, but she's glad it all ended well. And Lewis is just glad that their little community has been enriched with another resident.

[sacchiri]

I recently bought the jp volumes of Hellsing along with the guidebook, and since I'm reading the series in its native language for the first time I might as well share some random things that stood out to me in no particular order.

This isn't meant to be an analysis of translation differences, I'm too lazy for that. Also it's been 12 years since I've watched the anime and read the low quality fan scans of the manga so some of these comments are just "Lol, forgot this was a thing"

Volume 1

... I really want to know who this guy is at the beginning, yelling at Alucard in overly familiar language to "Get your shit together!" and "You're the only one we can count on!!". We know from the style of speech that it's a dude, probably just some Hellsing rando, and maybe it's not all that strange since he has probably been working with the same soldiers for years--but it's still funny.

"I know, it's just so nice out :("

..The way "HELLSING Organization" is spelled out like this reminds me that apparently the name is supposed to be an acronym. No really.

...

God they're so silly.

Now that I think about it, the only thing Seras has done this chapter since being turned into a vampire is say "I'm sorry" over and over.... girl you got shot in the lung, why are you apologizing

Not a huge difference, but what Integra actually says here is "Leaving a corpse here for 20 years... You're a terrible person too, Father" and not "What were you thinking, Father?" as the Dark Horse translation suggests (note the lack of question mark in the raw version). I thought that might be of interest to some.

Something else I thought was interesting is the first line Alucard ever says to Integra, and how uncharacteristically polite he sounds.

O-kega wa gozaimasenka- That's two honorific 御's back to back! (He even said them in kanji, even Walter isn’t that straightlaced and he’s literally the butler.) This is also the only time Alucard uses this overly flowery gentlemanly language with her, and good thing too because it would be so annoying if he spent the whole manga ending his sentences with ~gozaimasu.

What I'm trying to get at is, after seeing this sentence in the Japanese version, I'm like 100% sure he actually heard her when she was mumbling to herself about hoping to find a knight in shining armor, and he was totally going the extra mile in playing into that role for their first encounter. Which is kind of sweet.

Lol they misspelled Alucard on the top left... or rather, they incorrectly spelled it right?

One would normally expect Alucard to be written アルカード, and indeed pixiv dict lists アーカード as a misspelling (the u sound is weak in Japanese, so it's easy to mishear arukādo as ākādo). Hirano was definitely aware of the correct spelling though, since he used it in the pilot chapter and in his old character sheets. It was only when the manga officially began that he switched to the アーカード spelling. I doubt it was because of copyright issues because there is already a long precedent of vampire characters named アルカード in various old manga, OVA, and games in Japan that have coexisted without issue (like this guy Hirano mentions in volume 1's afterword).

Most likely Hirano simply thought it looked better, or was a means of differentiating his character from the others somehow. It certainly makes life easier for Japanese fans searching for fanart since アーカード is only going to bring up Hellsing and not the Castlevania character.

Jan Valentine even pokes fun at the spelling discrepancy later in volume 2, but since there wasn't a good way of expressing this in English it was left untranslated.

(Speaking of spelling inconsistencies, there's a lot of minor details I'm noticing now, like half the time the furigana for 吸血鬼 is written バンパイア and the other half it's ヴァンパイア... anyway)

Um, just noticed literally everyone's wearing glasses What should I do

Hirano's habit of jotting random comments underneath his panels is one of the underrated perks of reading the manga

The Dark Horse translation almost makes it sound like she's looking forward to seeing this battle play out, while in the Japanese she simply sounds apprehensive. Almost as if she's worried about them? And she's going out on the field personally to make sure nothing bad happens? Aww

Ok this is a weird tangent, but I just noticed the scans of the Dark Horse version I've been looking at use a slightly larger image range than the Japanese version does. It was only noticeable when I got to this part:

The second image is what the Japanese version of the scan looks like and I can confirm that this is what it looks like in my physical volume as well. You shouldn't be seeing the messy borders of the inking on the bottom like that.

Manga manuscripts are set up so that there are a few millimeters of bleed border around each page. You're supposed to color and line all the way up to (4) while keeping in mind that printing and paper cutting may result in the image being trimmed up to (3).

Either Hirano didn't color his lines all the way to (4) (this man has been drawing manga for years but this is Hirano we're talking about so it's very possible), or Dark Horse didn't honor the original bleed borders of the manuscript. I'm kind of leaning towards the former since there was a Hellsing exhibit in Japan a few years back where you could look at Hirano's original manuscripts and there's one where you can clearly see that he spilled a mug of tea or coffee across the entire page

Anyway, it's weird, and I'm curious to see if someone that owns a physical copy in English can confirm whether theirs actually looks like that. It's volume 1, page 141.

[losersimonriley]

every way that matters

(Ghost/Soap, marriage proposals, first kiss, in that order actually)

“MacRiley.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ravish!”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

The longer he thinks on it (the longer Johnny goes on listing horrid mash-ups of their surnames,) the more convinced he becomes that they should just keep their own as is. It would make the streamlining process a hell of a lot easier (as easy as it can be for a dead man with a high-clearance-only military file to get legally married. Ghost’s paperwork will be a nightmare no matter if his name is changed or not.) Plus it would mean no unnecessary confusement in the field.

Johnny is quick to veto that idea.

“Where’s the romance in that, ye numpty? C’mon. What sounds better, John Riley or Simon MacTavish?”

Ghost actually full body snorts at that one. “They both sound dead weird.”

“Och, ye wound me. There’s no other choice then. Plain ol’ Riley-MacTavish it is. Simon Rhys Riley-MacTavish,” Johnny says his name with such softness that it hurts.

And that one…that one might work. Bit of a mouthful but nobody besides an officiant is ever going to be saying his full name anyway. And Johnny, apparently.

An officiant. With the highest of clearances. At their wedding. Their make-believe wedding.

This is all, of course, a joke. They’re meant to be having a laugh on watch duty while Garrick and Price sleep their dedicated four hours. Simon had maybe forgotten himself and delved a little too deep into the idea. Maybe he forgot this wasn’t a real conversation. Easy to do with electric blue eyes lit by a full moon and a perfect mouth spouting random, sleep deprived nuggets like “What if we got married?”

“Sure. That’s the one,” he says, regretting every single one of his life choices that led him to this moment. They need to stop. Now.

“That’s the one,” Johnny repeats.

Despite it all, his own jaws keep fucking flapping. Soap tends to have that effect on him. Curious, that.

“When I was a little brat,” he’s already second-guessing the confession about to escape his lips, “I used to think I’d make the perfect husband one day. Cause my old man showed me everything not to be.”

He tries to ignore the sharp inhale that Johnny attempts to mask with a clearing of his throat.

“You would be. Anyone would be lucky to have ye, Simon. I’d certainly be beside myself,” he says that last part in a mutter, looking off into the dark of the forest.

“Right,” he whispers, sarcasm dripping from the word. He hopes they leave it at that. He thinks they have left it at that, peaceful silence promising until Soap picks it up again within minutes.

“If it weren’t for the military, the task force, would ye marry me?”

“Maybe if you asked nicely.”

“Simon. I’m serious.”

He glances up and, yes, that is Soap’s serious face. He’s staring at him so intently it might burn a hole straight through the hard shell mask and into his skull. Fuck. Fucking hell. What is this? The fuck is going on here?

“I—Johnny, we aren’t…we aren’t together,” he can’t help but ease into it as if he’s breaking the truth to Soap. And yet he phrases it as a question instead of the statement it’s meant to be.

“Ye didnae answer the question proper.”

“You didn’t ask proper,” he quips, agitation rising in his voice. Why can’t Soap just stop this? Can he not see how much it’s hurting him? He’s usually so good about reading him.

Johnny grins evilly and plucks a blade of grass from the ground, quickly tying it off. “Need ye to stand up for a sec.”

“What,” he deadpans.

“Up.”

He stands, ever the obedient dog for John fucking MacTavish.

And John fucking MacTavish stays sat on the ground, switching his position to a kneel right in front of him.

He’s going to throw up.

This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening. He’s in a dream and he’ll wake up screaming and sweating and shaking any second.

“It’s not funny anymore, Soap,” he croaks.

It hurts.

“I’m not laughin’,'' he holds the blade of grass up, haphazardly knotted into a tiny circle. “Simon Rhys Riley, would ye do me the absolute fucking honor of being my husband in all ways except legal? Sir.”

It’s so stupid. It’s pretend—he knows that, but he’s sinking to his knees anyway. “This would make me your fiancé. Not husband.”

“That a yes then?”

Johnny is serious and his smile is blinding. Not for the first time, he’s bloody thankful for having his mask on around this ridiculous man. He’s sure his entire face could rival a tomato.

Maybe it’s not a real proposal but, Simon realizes, it’s real to them. Maybe not so far as a promise, but a wish. A what if.

“We’ll wait a bit, let it marinate. Maybe this’ll turn to gold, aye?” Johnny makes to slip the…ring…onto his finger but hesitates, motioning to the glove covering Simon’s hand. “Can I?”

He nods once and the skelly glove is far too gently pulled off and replaced with another far too gentle glide of grass up his ring finger. It’s the perfect fit. It doesn’t rip, doesn’t fall off when Johnny moves his hand back into his glove. It’s as if that stupid blade of grass was meant for him.

What a stupid thought. A stupid thought for a stupid, lovesick ghost.

They blink at each other, both seeming to be in a daze of their own when something possesses Simon—something unhinged and desperate and absolutely necessary in this moment.

He yanks the mask completely off before surging forward and kissing hard enough to hurt both of their noses and quick enough to leave them both aching for more. Johnny whines pitifully and follows his lips when he pulls back.

“Think we’ve done this all backwards, LT,” Johnny breathes into his mouth, hands coming up to pet his face.

This is everything. Everything. Backwards, frontwards, sideways, he doesn’t give a fuck because Johnny is everything.

“You started it, Sergeant.”

***

Six months and six thousand kisses later, Johnny presents him with a gunmetal black ring. Fucker had it planned from the start.

Engraved on the outside:

Riley-MacTavish

And the inside:

In every way that matters.

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER TWO: a conviction.

read chapter one on tumblr or read the entire fic on ao3.

this is 7k words. be warned. . . .

It takes three days of angling at what he wants before Alfred looks him dead in the eye and says, “You may ask me for anything, Danny. Please do not hesitate if you need to ask for help.”

So Danny bites the bullet and says, “Can I work for you? It just sounds like you have to do a lot on your own, and having someone else around might make things easier for you.”

Alfred blinks. “You… wish to work for me?”

“Yeah. Like, I need a job anyways but I doubt most places will hire a homeless high school dropout. But you know me, and you can give me errands to do so you have time for other things.”

“You would like to work,” Alfred says again, slowly, “For me.”

Danny gives him a long look. His heart starts to sink, heavy as stone. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s messed up, that he wasn’t actually supposed to ask Alfred for help, that this is a mistake. It’s a stupid idea to begin with, and now that he’s actually asking, he can see that this was never going to work out.

He may have just ruined the only friendship he has in this dimension because of his stupid mouth. 

“Sorry,” he says, drawing into himself, ready to leave and hide away until the shame lessens enough that he can stand to be a part of society. Or, not a part, but on the periphery of society. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was stupid. I’ll just go now.”

“Danny,” Alfred says. He doesn’t reach out to Danny, just stands still with his impeccable posture, hands clasped in front of him. Danny could leave, could disappear and never be seen again. Alfred wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. He doesn’t need to stay, but something in Alfred’s voice leaves no possibly for refusal. 

He stops and lifts his head just enough to meet Alfred’s eyes.

“It is not stupid,” Alfred says sternly. “I was simply surprised. There will be details to be worked out, but I would be glad to have your help.”

“Really?”

Alfred smiles. “Really. Now, would you like to tell me what you would like to do while we walk?”

That’s something he really likes about Alfred: he always gives Danny a choice. It’s not a trick, either, there’s no wrong answer. He never demands anything, never orders him around, just offers Danny choices and gives him the time to actually chose what he wants. 

If Danny says no, he doesn’t want to talk about it at the moment, Alfred would accept it and change the topic, talk about something else. 

He can say no, and it’s a relief. 

He doesn’t, of course, because he does need this job, but it’s nice to know that the option is there.

“What’s there to say?” he begins, “I just wanna help you out. You’re always out way too early, doing all these errands on your own. And you’ve never mentioned anyone helping you while you work in that manor.”

“Well, I would like to know what you want to do, Danny. What sort of tasks would you like to oversee?”

Danny bluescreens for a moment. He’s never actually thought about his career, not after the accident that destroyed his future. There’s no way any of his space knowledge will be helpful in housekeeping, and most places don’t have sentient food that needs to be fought and defeated. Hell, he doesn’t even have a resume!

Not that this is like. A legitimate job interview or anything. It’s just asking for a favor.

Does this count as nepotism?

Danny is way too young to know any of this. He’s never felt more unprepared for something before. How are career talks supposed to go? Is he supposed to negotiate for his salary? What even is the minimum wage in Gotham?

“I don’t know,” he admits, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Whatever you want me to do, I guess.”

“Have you ever had a job before?” 

Danny shakes his head, trying to push down the shame that wells up in him. Alfred doesn’t seem upset by this answer, just thoughtful. It’s not like it’s a surprise, anyways.

“I see,” he says, “Would you like to shadow me for the day and get an idea of what I do?”

And then he can figure out how he wants to help Alfred, Danny realizes. It’s the solution to this problem, one that Alfred’s offering up as another simple yes-no choice. This would work, help him get a better idea of what he can do, what’s expected of him, but Danny doesn’t particularly want to follow Alfred around all day. 

Not because of the company; Alfred’s great, Danny would be happy to spend all week with him. The problem is that Alfred is only out very rarely, and spends all the rest of his time working on keeping that manor functional. 

Danny does not want to end up in the house of another rich person when he doesn’t know them. He doesn’t want anything to do with rich families that probably are either very weird or are hiding dark secrets. 

That being said, he does really need a job and he trusts Alfred well enough. If he says his employers are good, then Danny will trust in that and only be a little miffed if they try to kill him. 

“Sure,” he says, despite all his misgivings. “Sounds good.”

“Come along, then,” Alfred claps his hands together, looking rather happy about this outcome, “We have much to do.”

They walk to Alfred’s favorite tea shop, where the owner always has a new blend ready for him. Danny stays behind Alfred the entire time, carefully staying out of any small talk as he tries to force down the anxious twisting of his heart. This is all happening so suddenly, with barely any time for him to process, and it’s taking effort to not run away. 

It would be fine if this was all the job was; bodyguarding Alfred on his early morning errands, all personal business so he can catch up with friends or get something for himself before shifts all his attention to keeping his employers alive. 

He can handle bodyguardings. It’s practically the only thing he’s good at: keeping people safe no matter the cost to himself. 

But the thought of walking into a big, fancy manor to keep an absurdly rich family alive is making his skin crawl. Sam’s parents never liked him, preferring to stick to social circles far above him, and Vlad was Vlad.

These ones he knows nothing about, can do nothing to prepare for meeting them. All he has is Alfred’s vague comments about them when he talks about his job, but he’s always very careful to keep the details close to his chest. Danny doesn’t even know the names of the people Alfred works for. 

There’s no way they’re going to be okay with having him around.

Danny’s going to take one step into the manor and get kicked out. And Alfred will have to side with them to keep his own job and Danny’s back to where he started, out on the streets with no way of supporting himself. 

Maybe he should have thought this through more. Maybe he should ask if Alfred can set him up with some other job, ask one of his friends for an opening. 

“Are you quite alright, Danny?”

Alfred’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Danny realizes that he’s been silently following Alfred down the street, lost in his head, and he’s completely missed whatever Alfred just said. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, what did you say?”

“I simply wanted to know if you’ve eaten breakfast yet.”

“Oh, I haven’t. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

Alfred makes a disapproving sound, then quickly turns on his heel and begins to walk across the street. Danny stares after him blankly, then hurries to follow after him, eyeing the few people walking out of buildings just in case they try to start something. 

For a man his age, Alfred sure moves fast. It’s a change from how he usually walks at a steady, sedate pace, leisurely strolling through the streets of Gotham as if it’s a walk through the park. It’s a struggle to adjust his pace to make sure he keeps up with Alfred without speeding past him.

“Where are we going?” he asks as Alfred continues his journey down the block. 

“We are going back to the manor,” Alfred announces, “I will not have anyone go hungry on my watch.”

Danny bites back his immediate reply of I am not going to the manor with you and instead says, “I’m not hungry, though.”

“Nonsense. I have cared for many teenage boys in my lifetime. You lot are always hungry.”

That’s. Fair. 

Yeah, most teenage boys are always hungry. Danny certainly was before… Before.

When he was fully alive and safe. Even when he was turned into a halfa and had to keep secrets, he was always hungry, stealing snacks from Sam and Tucker or going to Nasty Burger with them to settle his stomach. All his appetite disappeared the moment he had to flee his home dimension and it hasn’t come back since.

He doesn’t think it ever will. It’s not like he really needs to eat as much now; being half dead helps him last longer without food or water, and he’s sure his stomach is about the size of a walnut now, with how little he’s been eating.

Danny’s not about to dump all that onto Alfred, though, so he keeps his mouth shut and follows Alfred to a small parking lot behind a deli. There are a few cars left there overnight, and one that, while not as obviously expensive as the last one Alfred drove, is in much better condition than the other ones. Alfred pulls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the car, opening the passenger side door first. 

“Come along now,” he says, “You’ll be having breakfast before you accompany me through my day.”

This is what he’s agreed to, so he doesn’t protest despite how getting into such a small, enclosed space makes his skin crawl. He hasn’t been in anything as small as a car in… months. In fact, the last time he was in a small space, it was the thermos after his parents caught him. Jazz had to steal it in order to release him, but his parents caught on a little too fast and chased after him before he could even get out of the house.

He doesn’t like small spaces anymore, is the point.

Barely breathing, Danny slides into the passenger seat. The door shuts behind him with a heavy click and suddenly there’s no air in the car. It’s only the fact that Danny can hold his breath for around half an hour that keeps him from hyperventilating. As long as he doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t need to worry about the way his lungs are twisting, how his throat is tight, how his hands shake where they’re pressed against his thighs. 

Alfred opens the door again, getting behind the wheel. He starts the engine and gently reminds Danny to put on his seatbelt, then reverses out of the parking space once he sees that Danny is buckled up. 

The drive is a blur. At some point, he thinks he hears Alfred trying to talk to him, but Danny is too focused on not losing his cool to actually process anything happening outside his head. One moment, they’re pulling out of the parking lot and into the street. The next, a large iron gate is opening in front of them, allowing the car to continue down the gravel road leading to a large, Gothic styled manor. 

Sam would love this place, Danny thinks when he sees it, then takes a shaky breath to fight back to burn of tears in his eyes. 

He immediately stops breathing again, hanging onto his composure by the thinnest possible thread. 

The car comes to a stop off to the side of the entrance steps. There’s also a wheelchair ramp there; accessibility isn’t something he was expecting to see from a rich person’s home, but it’s at least one sign that these people won’t be as bad as the ones he’s met before. 

Alfred likes them for a reason, he reminds himself, he just needs to see what it is before he commits to working around them in any capacity.

“Here we are, Danny,” Alfred says, cutting the engine and opening the door. Danny scrambles to follow, pulling off his seatbelt and all but falling out of the car in his rush to escape the suffocating space. “Are you quite alright?”

Danny blinks up at Alfred, trying and failing to calm down from the everything messing him up at the moment. “Yeah,” he croaks, then hurries to clear his throat. “I’m good. Just… overwhelmed.”

“If you would rather do this another day—”

“No! No, I’m fine, really. I can do this today. Better now than never, you know?”

Alfred doesn’t look like he believes him, but it’s fine. Danny can handle it! He’s handled everything that’s been thrown his way so far, no matter how terrible. He can handle staying inside a giant manor to learn how to be a butler.

Piece of cake compared to fighting Pariah Dark, really.

“So this is where you work?” he asks, trying to change the subject. “Big place.”

“Indeed. It has been in the Wayne family for many generations. My father worked here and I followed in his footsteps. I have cared for this home and its inhabitants for many decades now.”

Well. Never let it be said that Alfred isn’t dedicated to his job. 

“Wow. You must really love this job, to stay so long.”

“It can be hard,” Alfred says, a sad smile on his face, “But it is always worth it.”

That… sounds like there’s a story there. A painful one. Danny won’t pry, he knows better than to go poking his nose in sensitive matters like those; usually, death is usually involved and he is well aware of how difficult talking about death can be. 

Alfred unlocks the front entrance, pulling one of the large double doors open. “After you, Danny,” he says, holding it open. 

Danny ducks his head, mumbling his thanks, and steps inside. 

The manor is quiet. It’s dark, also, with only the soft light of a floor lamp illuminating the foyer. Everyone else must still be asleep, which isn’t a surprise seeing as it’s barely past dawn. Danny’s just gotten too used to being awake during the night, and had forgotten that most people don’t get up as early as Alfred does. 

Despite the darkness of the manor, he can pick out the fancy rugs and the large chandelier above his head. A grand staircase is at the end of the foyer, with hallways going along the side of the stairs. Seeing the manor from the outside is one thing. Standing inside it and feeling the true scope of how large it is, is something else entirely. 

“You take care of this entire place by yourself?” he can’t help but ask, glancing back to see Alfred shutting the door behind him. “Also, do I need to take off my shoes?”

“No need, though I appreciate you asking. And yes, I often tend to the manor by myself. When I am able, I will call in outside cleaning services to prepare the manor for large events.”

Despite having permission, Danny still feels uncomfortable walking all over fancy rugs with his grimy shoes. He’s been wandering all over Gotham, especially through quieter, dirtier areas. He doesn’t want to think about how difficult getting all the dirt out of the rugs is going to be. Making more work for Alfred when he’s supposed to be helping leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe if he just floats a little, just enough to keep his shoes off the floor without being obvious…

“This way, Danny,” Alfred says, taking the lead and walking down a large hallway on the right. He flicks a switch as he goes, the lights turning on a split second later and revealing the landscape paintings that decorate the walls. 

Man, Danny thinks, These people are Rich-rich. Maybe even richer than Vlad.

He hopes they’re not secretly a cult or something. Rich people always have some weird, fucked up secret they’re hiding. As long as it’s doesn’t involve murder or human experimentation, Danny can pretend he Does Not See and focus on helping Alfred.

The hallway leads to a large dining room with one of those extremely long tables, fit to seat twenty people. Smaller chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the dangling crystals glinting in the light. 

Alfred, thankfully, doesn’t stop there. Danny would walk out of the manor and find a barn to live in if Alfred tried to have him eat in there. It’s just not happening, not now, not ever.

Beyond the dining room is the kitchen. Though still larger than any kitchen Danny’s ever seen, it feels much more homely compared to the rest of the manor (that he’s seen so far). There’s a variety of papers pinned on the fridge door and a small shelf of cookbooks on the open space of the wall besides one of the windows. There are bar stools on one side of the kitchen island and a small table in the corner with six chairs, something more appropriate for smaller groups than the giant dining table. 

There are potted plants in two corners, bringing some color into the room, as well as a vase of bright flowers on the island. 

There is also, most notably, someone sitting on one of the bar stools, slumped over the island with his head resting in his arms. A cup sits off to his left, steam still wafting up from it. 

Besides him, Alfred makes a disapproving tutting noise that has the guy lifting his head and turning around to face them. 

“Hey, Alfred,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion. Even from this distance, Danny can see the bags under his ears. “Morning.”

“Master Tim, did you get any sleep at all?” It’s phrased like a question, but Danny can hear the reprimand clearly.

Tim can too, judging by his wince. “Some,” he says, not looking either of them in the eye. “It just wasn’t a night for sleeping.”

That means nothing to Danny, but it makes Alfred soften in sympathy. 

“I shall speak to Master Bruce about having your schedule for today cleared.”

“I can still work—”

“Absolutely not.” 

Tim looks like he’s gearing up to protest, then glances at Danny and slumps back down. “Fine,” he grumbles, pressing his forehead into the countertop, “But just this once.”

“This is one of my duties,” Alfred tells Danny as he walks towards the sink. “Taking care of the many stubborn members of this family. Getting them to take care of themselves is among the most pressing duties I have.”

“We’re not that bad,” Tim mutters.

“You came to this house for the sole purpose of helping Master Bruce,” Alfred counters.

Tim shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fair.” And then turns his attention back to Danny. “We’re all disasters, but I swear we know how to handle ourselves. Alfred just has strict standards.”

“I… don’t know if I’ll be able to help with that?” Danny says, looking between the two. “I’m usually the one being cared for, not the other way.”

“What, you get into a lot of trouble?”

“More like I’m very accident-prone.” 

“You’ll fit in great, then,” Tim smiles, then sits up and rolls his shoulders back. He grabs his mug, takes a big swig, and sighs. “Guess I should get back to what I was doing.”

Alfred pulls out a cutting board and a knife, sets them on the counter, then opens the fridge to pull out various fruits, a pack of bacon, and some eggs. “Danny, do wash your hands and then take a seat. Master Tim, I’m sure Danny would appreciate your company a little longer.”

Tim slumps back down and offers Alfred a lazy salute. He hooks his ankle around the bar stool besides him and pulls it out for Danny. 

This is going well so far. Nothing bad has happened, he hasn’t been attacked, and he’s met the first member of the family Alfred loves so much. Tim is chill; he’s clearly exhausted, has problems with sleeping and self-care, but he’s nice and seeing him act so casual, like any other teenager, has Danny relaxing. 

He forces himself to move, walking in the air just a centimeter above the floor, and rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands. He finishes quickly, shaking water off his hands into the sink, and hopes neither of them saw the Lichtenberg figures on his right arm. 

Alfred’s washing the fruit and laying them out on the cutting board when he glances over. Danny wants to help, but he also doesn’t want to get in the way, so he sits next to Tim, curling into himself some.

Tim watches him with a sharp gaze. He didn’t seem this awake a moment ago. The icy blue of his eyes feels dangerous, somehow, and Danny’s not sure what’s changed in between him washing his hands and sitting down, but he tries to stay still and not give away how nervous he is. 

I’m just being paranoid, he tells himself. He doesn’t exist in this dimension. No one is out to hunt him down. They don’t know he’s a halfa, and it’s going to stay that way. 

There’s no way Tim could know anything about Danny, but the look in his eyes makes Danny want to run. 

“You look like adoption bait,” Tim says suddenly. He takes another sip of whatever’s in his mug. Coffee, based off the smell.

“Um. What?”

Tim gestures vaguely at Danny. “Blue eyes. Black hair. Sad. Y’know, Wayne adoption bait.”

“Does Wayne only adopt kids with those features?” Danny squints at Tim. “Did he get you? Do you need me to break you out of here?”

Tim laughs and the sharpness of his gaze eases. “No! I’m kind of a special case since I went to him instead of the other way around. But a lot of the others fit that description, and Bruce has adopted a lot of sad kids over the years, so it’s a bit of a running joke in Gotham.”

“And he’s nice? He’s good to you? To everyone?”

If this is another Vlad situation, Danny’s going to get every kid out of the manor and somewhere safe. Where that somewhere is, he doesn't know yet, but he’ll figure it out once he gets there. Alfred might not want to leave, but he won’t mind Danny protecting him while he’s around this ‘Bruce’ guy.

Probably.

Whatever, Danny can just go invisible and keep Alfred safe that way. 

“Bruce is good,” Tim reassures. “He’s emotionally constipated and makes a lot of mistakes, but he means well and he cares about all of us. He’s a loser, but we all love him anyways.”

“Thank you for that, Tim,” comes a deep voice from behind them.

Danny tries not to jump out of his seat, manages to catch himself on the edge of the island before he flies up to the ceiling, and whips around to stare at the newcomer. 

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred says from where he’s plating all the cleaning cut fruit. 

“Hey, B,” Tim says, “Didn’t think I’d see you up so early.”

The man is large. Not as large as his dad—few people come close—but still bigger than Danny. He’s shoulders are wide and Danny can tell he’s packing a lot of muscle beneath his black turtleneck sweater. There are streaks of silver in his black hair, a few wrinkles around his blue eyes, and something about him sets Danny on edge.

He looks normal enough, but carries an undercurrent of danger. 

This is someone who can do a lot of damage if Danny’s not careful.

“Good morning,” he returns to Tim and Alfred, but his eyes are fixed on Danny. “And hello. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Bruce.”

Bruce walks closer and holds out a hand with a smile. It looks fake, but well practiced enough that most people wouldn’t notice. Danny, who is very well versed in reading people to make sure they’re not going to try and kill him, notices. 

He hesitates for a moment, then slowly takes Bruce’s hand into the world’s slowest, most awkward handshake. 

“Danny,” he says. “Sorry for intruding.”

Behind him, Alfred loudly sets a frying pan down on the stove. “You were invited, Danny. You are not intruding.”

Danny tries to pull his hand back, but Bruce tightens his grip without warning. He turns Danny’s hand over, looking over it with a critical eye.

“Your hand is very cold,” he says, “Would you like a blanket?”

A spark of panic flares through him and Danny makes his hand intangible for a brief second to free himself from Bruce’s grasp. “No thanks,” he answers with a tight smile, “I just have bad circulation.”

Bruce hums thoughtfully, then steps away. He claps a hand on Tim’s shoulder, then moves to one of the cupboards to start making his own cup of coffee. 

“Do you need any help, Alfred?” Bruce asks.

“I will not allow you to scare Danny away by setting the kitchen on fire again,” Alfred responds immediately.

“I could just set out plates,” Bruce amends.

“Please sit down, Master Bruce.”

Tim bites down a laugh, but his shoulders still shake with it. He turns his face away when Bruce looks at him, eyebrow raised judgmentally. He’s not smiling, but there’s a fond tilt to his lips, a softness in the heavy lines of his shoulders. 

Danny watches it all, content to disappear in the background as he slowly relaxes again, basking in the warmth of a family that so clearly loves each other. They’re all at ease around each other, safe and at home, even with a stranger in their midst. It reminds him a bit of being a kid, clinging to Jazz’s back as they waited for their dad to pull out a batch of his fudge, their mom making hot chocolate for them.

It’s a bittersweet memory now, but still something he cherishes. 

“We all try to help Alfred when we can,” Tim whispers to Danny, leaning over so they won’t be overheard, “But we’re pretty bad at it. Bruce, especially, can’t be trusted in a kitchen.”

“That sounds like a story I’d like to hear later,” he whispers back, and the grin Tim gives him is full of promise.

The kitchen quiets down after that, Tim and Bruce still tired and holding back yawns as Alfred continues cooking. Danny observes them all carefully, trying to learn more about them without actually having to talk to them. He watches Alfred cook as well, trying to learn through observation; he’s never cooked before, not when everything in the kitchen was ecto-contaminated and needed to be fought instead of eaten.

He’d like to learn. If Alfred’s willing to teach him, he’d like to learn how to cook normal food for normal people.

The morning creeps on, the world waking up outside. He can hear birdsong from outside, and though it’s too cloudy to see the sun, he’s sure it’s above the horizon now.

Alfred sets plates of cut fruit down in front of Bruce, then Tim, and then Danny. It’s followed by a separate plate of bacon and eggs. He asks the room at large how they would like their toast prepared, to which Bruce requests lightly toasted with honey, Tim asked for blueberry jam, and Danny doesn’t say a word.

“Danny?” Alfred prompts, and Danny looks up from his plate. 

“Oh, um, no thank you,” he answers awkwardly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat this much.”

Alfred accepts the answer easily enough, moving to start making the other requests, but Tim is staring at him with his piercing gaze again. Danny tries to ignore him, popping a blackberry into his mouth. 

It’s not Tim who says anything. It’s Bruce, who starts by clearing his throat and gently beginning with “Do you have a stable living situation right now, Danny?”

“Jesus, B,” Tim says, “That is not how you should be starting this conversation.”

“It’s important to know.”

“Yes?” Danny lies very unconvincingly, then slumps when three people give him disbelieving looks. “I’m doing my best, okay. And I’m taking care of myself just fine.” He nibbles on a piece of bacon to stop himself from saying anything else, hoping they’ll back off if he doesn’t make eye contact.

For a moment, it looks like Tim is going to speak again. Then a new voice pipes up from behind them and again, Danny has to cling to the counter to stop from flinching too hard. 

“Who is this,” a young voice demands. When Danny turns around, there’s a kid standing in the doorway, arms crossed, as he glares at Danny. 

“Um,” Danny says, “Hi? I’m Danny.”

The kid moves his glare from Danny to Bruce. “This was not mentioned,” he says rather accusingly. 

“This one isn’t mine,” Bruce says, “This one is on Alfred.”

Everything about this conversation is flying over his head, so Danny decides to ignore it and go back to slowly working his way through his first breakfast in around a month. It’s delicious, but he can only finish the fruit and some of the eggs and bacon before his stomach starts twisting. 

Tim pulls the plate away when Danny can’t eat anymore. “Don’t push yourself,” he says, “I can finish it, if you want.”

He gives up his plate with a grateful smile, and turns to get up and see if he can get a glass of water. The kid is right by his elbow when he turns and Danny has to take a deep breath and slowly let it out before he accidentally kicks the kid and sends him flying. 

“Why are you here,” he says, tense and ready to move. He looks ready for a fight, which is odd and concerning to see on someone who can’t be any older than twelve. 

“I was invited,” he answers, “I’m maybe going to work for Alfred? If today goes well, I guess.”

The kid’s eyebrows go up. “You are not being adopted.”

“No,” Danny says slowly, “I’m just looking for a job.”

Abruptly, the kid relaxes, then sticks out a hand. “I am Damian Wayne. I will be keeping an eye on you.”

“Don’t be rude, gremlin,” Tim says just as Danny shakes his hand. 

“I am being reasonably wary,” Damian counters, “You are far too lax with a stranger in our home.”

“I’m trusting Alfred to not bring in anyone dangerous,” Tim corrects.

“Boys,” Bruce calls out, warningly. They both look away from each other, scowling. “And Danny,” he continues, “If you don’t have anywhere to stay, you’re welcome here even if you don’t work.”

This time, it’s Tim who cuts him off with a quick call of “Bruce,” just as Damian says, “Father, enough.”

“If I can offer help, I will. I don’t need to adopt everyone who comes through here.”

Alfred sends him a withering look that has Bruce looking away, sipping his coffee, pretending he didn’t say anything. Tim scoffs loudly and Damian shakes his head disapprovingly. 

“I’m telling everyone you said that,” Tim declares, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He types something out, looking more and more awake now that he has more people to talk to. Or more people he can embarrass Bruce with. 

There’s definitely something that Danny’s missing here, but he doesn’t intend to spend enough time around them for it to matter. All he’s here to do is shadow Alfred and hopefully get a job. Maybe having friends in this dimension would be nice, but that’s something to consider after he’s figured out his living situation.

“Oh!” Tim says suddenly, holding out his phone to Danny. “Give me your number. You can text me any questions you have about us.”

“Can’t Alfred answer any questions I have?”

“Sure, but he’ll give you the polite, respectful answer. I can give you all the hot gossip.”

Danny can’t help but smile at that. He thinks he’s found a good friend in Tim, but only time will tell. “As much as I’d like that, I don’t actually have a phone. So.”

“I can get you one right now,” Tim says.

“No, no! It’s fine. I’ll buy one once I have like. A paycheck or something. Wait,” Danny pauses, “I don’t have a bank account either. Okay, so this is gonna take some time, but eventually I’ll have a phone!”

Tim turns to Bruce. “Okay, I can’t even judge you for this one. If you don’t let him work with Alfred, I’ll find a position for him at WE.”

WE? That’s a new term. There’s still so much he needs to learn about this dimension and Danny can’t get started because he can’t access the internet and all the libraries are closed when he wanders. 

Besides him, Damian clicks his tongue, then takes a plate of eggs, fruit, and jam covered bread from Alfred and takes a seat next to Bruce. 

Danny decides to take the lull in conversation as a chance to ask Alfred for some water, only to see that somehow, without him noticing, a full glass has appeared where his empty plate once was. He looks up to see Alfred round the island, passing off the request toast to Bruce and Tim, then collecting all the empty plates he can find.

He mentally notes the moment as further proof that Alfred has magic. 

The three members of the Wayne family busy themselves with their food. Danny cradles the cool glass in his hand, drinking slowly so he doesn’t upset his stomach even more, and tries not to tense up as the back of his neck prickles. They’re not obvious about it, but they’ll all paying close attention to him and it’s making him anxious. 

Normal people aren’t so focused or intense. They certainly aren’t as dangerous as the three in the kitchen. Danny isn’t even sure how he can tell, he just can. It might be some sort of instinct, recognizing them as potential threats due to all the ghosts he’s fought since the Accident. 

He really hopes he never finds how why they’re all so dangerous.

There’s quiet clink of a plate, and when he looks up, Alfred is taking the last few empty plates to the sink.

“I could wash those for you,” he offers, “Since it’s, y’know, what I’m here for. To help you.”

Alfred smiles warmly and shakes his head once. “There is no need just yet, Danny. Thank you for the offer, however. I would be glad to have such a kind person help me, should you choose to work with me by the end of today.”

It doesn’t feel right to let Alfred cook for him and clean up after everyone. But he also doesn’t want to go against Alfred in his workplace. Or his home? The manor may also be his home, which is worrying for the future of Danny’s professional boundaries. 

Damian leaves, saying he needs to get ready for school, and Tim mumbles something about work before Alfred talks over him and tells Bruce that Tim is taking a sick day. He doesn’t seem to mind being ordered around by a butler, though most of the orders are phrased as very pointed observations. Danny’s beginning to think it’s a British thing.

And then Alfred finishes washing the dishes and leaves everything in the drying rack, and says, “Why don’t we discuss the possible terms of Danny’s employment in your study, Master Bruce.”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Bruce says as he stands, pushing his seat in. He gestures of Danny to follow him and begins walking out of the kitchen.

Danny hesitates, but goes easily enough, some of his worry easing when Tim and Alfred both walk with him, guiding him through the manor.

He’d look around and take in everything if he could; Danny’s too busy thinking of worst case scenarios to enjoy seeing all the paintings and photographs and various decorations scattered throughout the manor. Sam’s place was always clean, save for her room, and only existed to show off wealth. Vlad’s was a castle in Wisconsin, which already says more than enough.

Wayne Manor, on the other hand, is big and homey. There’s a history within these walls. It’s almost tangible, full of love and laughter and grief and hope. The wealth is obvious, but so is the love of family. 

Even in Bruce’s study, there are signs. Photographs on the wall, all carefully framed, of various people holding poses. Danny keeps his eyes on them as Bruce rounds the large desk and gets settled, taking in the smiles of a young boy next to an elephant, a trio of girls at a ballet, a group shot of the family on a beach vacation.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Tim asks, following his gaze to the photographs.

Danny nods. “Everyone looks really happy.”

“That’s probably why there’s so few of these photos,” Tim says, then quickly covers up his somber tone with a cough. “Go ahead and sit down.”

So he sits, feeling like he’s at the principal’s office, in trouble yet again for some ghostly nonsense. Except instead of his principal, it’s a rich man who might be his boss by tomorrow.

“Now,” Bruce begins, folding his hands together on top of the desk, “I understand that you want to work as Alfred’s apprentice, of sorts. Assist him with his own tasks. Is this correct?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes.”

“And if I’m understanding you properly so far, you are in need of a job because you’re homeless. Yes?”

“Also yes.”

Bruce nods thoughtfully. “If you wish to live within the city itself, we would be happy to help you find a good place to live. However, you could also live here, as Alfred does. It make needing transportation unnecessary, and you would remain close to Alfred should he need any help.”

He almost instinctively rejects the offer, too used to expecting the worse from wealthy men. An immediate offer to live with them? So suspicious it’s not even funny. 

But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. And it would keep him close to Alfred. 

“Staying here sounds like the better option. I have a few conditions, though,” he says, watching Bruce’s face carefully for any sign of anger or annoyance.

There’s none. He’s as patient and unflappable as ever. 

“And they are…?” he prompts when Danny doesn’t continue. 

“I won’t be your son,” he says. “No adoption. I’ve had enough of rich men trying to force me into their families just to prove a point, or for some other stupid reason. I’m not having it here.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce says. 

“And if I find out you’re like, secretly evil, I’m allowed to run away with my body intact. You don’t get to keep any part of me.”

“Also fair,” Bruce says, nodding slowly as he begins to look more and more concerned. 

“No cloning or other experiments with humans. If I see any sign of that, I’m out.”

Bruce goes very, very still in a way that means nothing good. Danny squints at him, then glances to Tim so he can gauge if this is bad or not. Only Tim is also very still, staring down at the floor and slightly pale. Paler than before, in any case. 

“Please don’t have some sort of secret lair in your basement. I do not want to know if you’re leading a cult or not. I want no part of it. Either don’t have a secret lair in your basement, or keep me out of it.”

Alfred clears his throat delicately. There’s the faintest trace of laughter in his voice when he says, “All very good conditions, don’t you think, Master Bruce?”

“Right. Yes. I… accept those conditions. Which are very reasonable.”

Danny squints at him, wondering which of those conditions, exactly, is throwing him off guard. He’s well aware that all of them are rather outlandish, but considering his life, he’s not taking any chances. So far the Waynes seem like a pleasant family, but he thought Vlad was cool up until he got tortured and then subsequently never truly got away from him. 

This second attempt at life is too important to risk. 

If Bruce is evil with a secret basement liar, Danny is well within his rights to lose his shit about it.

“Okay,” Danny says after a minute. “That’s it. Those are all my conditions.”

“Right! Well, why don’t we talk about your salary.”

“Um.”

Danny shoots Alfred a wide-eyed look of panic. At that exact moment, Damian appears in the doorway of the study and says, “Pennyworth, I am in need of a ride to school.”

“What’s got you so excited for school?” Tim asks, twisting around so Damian can see his incredulous expression.

“Colin has promised to show me pictures of his cousin’s pet bird.”

Tim nods as if this is all very normal. Alfred quietly promises Danny that he’ll be back soon, then leaves with Damian so the kid can continue his education. Which leaves Danny floundering of an answer, at a complete loss as he tries to come up with reasonable numbers for a salary.

“Can I just shadow Alfred for a day before we talk about this?” he asks, searching for a way out of this situation.

Bruce frowns. “It would be best to get the details settled now. You’ll have plenty of time to learn from Alfred later.”

“Let me handle this,” Tim says, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. Then he looks at Bruce and suddenly isn’t the tired, fun teenage boy Danny’s been hanging out with during breakfast. Now he’s serious, holding himself tall, as if he has equal standing with Bruce. 

Please come back fast Alfred, Danny mentally pleads as Tim and Bruce start speaking about wages and hours and health insurance and kidnapping policies. 

What the hell kind of butler job even needs a kidnapping policy? 

Maybe he didn’t think this through. But now that he’s here, Danny’s determined to see it through. He’s gotta get this job; if not for his sake, then for Alfred’s.

No one should have to handle the Waynes, daily, on their own. That, at least, is something Danny can help with. 

If there’s anything Danny’s good at, it’s dealing with crazy. 

Now that’s something he can confidently put on his resume. 

("Are you sure about him?" Damian asks as Alfred drives him to school.

"Quite certain," Alfred replies, smoothly switching lanes.

"And he's just here to work? Not for Batman, or Robin, or to infiltrate the family?"

"Indeed. In fact," Alfred says, glancing up into the rear view mirror where he can see Damian scowling down at his backpack, "he was rather insistent that no one adopts him. It was one of his conditions for staying in the Manor."

This isn't much, just word of mouth for a stranger they know virtually nothing about, but it's enough to appease Damian for the time being.

"Fine," he says, just as they pull up to the school drop-off lane. "I will permit him to stay so long as he doesn't harm the family or try to take my place."

"Very good. I imagine you will get on well with him once you get to know him. He's a difficult boy to dislike."

"We'll see," Damian mutters, then adjusts his grip on his backpack in preparation to leave. "I shall continue my surveillance of Danny when I return from school."

"Have a good day, Master Damian," Alfred calls out after him as he exits the car. He lingers just long enough to see Damian walk through the gates of the school, the merges back into traffic and begins the drive home. And if he drives a little faster than normal, there's no one around to point it out. Not that anyone could blame him for looking forward to day of teaching Danny the various ins and outs of his duties as a butler.

Bruce has had many children to raise and mentor in the lovely heroes and people they are today. It's about time Alfred got a student of his own.)

[iamthemaestro]

would you perhaps regale us with tales of your time at sea (i am so curious what reenactment is like when youre traveling on an actual historical ship)

Ah, I *wish* I could say about the reenactment part but unfortunately the Lady Washington does not do much in terms of historical interpretation anymore—they definitely used to but they've gone through a lot of major changes in the past few years and it seems that was one of them. Frankly that would have been the only thing that could have made me more excited to be there lol.

However I appreciate the chance to infodump though since my brain is still very much in Ship Mode with nothing to do with itself... not sure if I have many *tales,* per se, but I did tons of fun stuff and tried to push myself hard in terms of trying things that scared me. On my last day I went up to furl the fore t'gallant (topmost yard on the foremast) which was probably the most physically difficult thing I did during my whole stay—while the climb up the t'gallant shrouds was fairly scary it was honestly much harder to just remain upright against the yard because the footrope was so shallow. On the topyards it's quite comfortable because you can functionally "stand" upright and lean against the yard at about stomach level while you're working, but here if you tried to stand upright the yard wouldn't even come up to your hips so you have to put all this weight into your knees, sort of crouching in order to have it in a good position to lean upon. I'd like to say I got pretty decent at furling in general but man... that one was a doozy. If I had had more time to practice it maybe it would come easier, but as it was we only set the t'gallants twice while I was there anyway. I will say I was surprised at how non-panicked I felt while I was hanging out there on the shrouds waiting for a wake to pass, not clipped into anything, held there by my own strength probably 50ish feet in the air—initially one of the hardest psychological parts of going aloft was staving off the intrusive thoughts, being a person very prone to them, but by the end I was actually quite impressed with how calm I felt up there. It's the best seat in the house, after all, second only to that of the main t'gallant: at first it feels dizzingly, unfathomably high, and when you look down you have this gut instinct of fear—I don't think humans were ever meant to be this high up, frankly—but the wind is whipping past you and your crewmates are like ants on the deck below you and all around you the shore disappears into fog on the horizon, and you're here; you swallow your fear and think, despite everything, "isn't this wonderful?"

My last day was a good one; during our transit from Port Orchard to Everett, the Seattle Krackens sent a film team out and had us set every sail we physically could along with a bunch of Kracken flags for their promotional video this season—we even rigged the main royal just for fun, despite the fact that it was too late for it to be caught on camera. Though I doubt I will ever see it, hypothetically there's some awesome footage of me loosing the bunt from the fore topsail with that fantastic WHOOMF as all that canvas drops—it looks so graceful from afar but when you're up there handling all that canvas it feels powerful more than anything else, all held up by the singular little midshipman's knot you undid with one hand, clinging to the jackstay with the other and watching the sail fall from the sky below you.

That night we also had a "shanty night" which I am very glad I got to experience, given my background as a musician, and it was a great time. Unfortunately I had no way to travel with my mandolin so I was armed only with my tinwhistle, but some crew members seemed genuinely pretty impressed with my ability to pick up tunes, which, at the risk of sounding extremely pretentious (forgive me) I am accustomed to thinking of as a rather mundane thing, but it was nice to feel appreciated. One of my crewmates, very drunk at the time, told me very earnestly that my "improsov" was very good and a "skill I should cherish," and honestly I don't think I'll ever forget that—when I picked up with the verse to Spanish Ladies everyone else had forgotten he cheered obnoxiously for me and kept up a steady stream of enthusiastic interjections where he didn't know the words, and while I am not generally fond of being the center of attention, I was fond of him for that.

Over the course of the trip I was introduced to a great number of tunes I'd never heard—which is something I value deeply—most of which I probably won't remember the names of, but of those I do I am making a point to learn. I love this sort of exchange—folk music at its most authentic—especially in a place like this, late in the evening on what, by the end of my time, I had decided was the most beautiful ship in the world, where our singing and our laughter carried across the water and into the night and my heart, though saddened by the air of finality that pervaded it all, was full.

Excuse me for getting a little prosaic—it's hard to describe the feelings you experience sailing a vessel like this one, at least to me, and it's been a dream of mine for a while. I miss it already and have full intentions on returning in coming years, but for now thanks for the opportunity to talk about it lol!

[mochayoubi]

hello!! how are you? i'm reaching out to you because you're the one i keep seeing my dashboard that's related to japanese learning.

i wanted to ask: how do you suggest a beginner should start studying? like, they're N5, and they know hiragana and katakana, but do not know how to move forward from there because it scares them? (it's me, btw, hi hello how are you how are the kids)

thank you so much!! have a good day!!

omg hi!!! im doing ok (im sick rn but it's fine lol) thanks sm for the ask! :3

i think the best thing you can do for yourself is follow your curiosity! at the early stages of learning curiosity will take you much farther than trying to set hard deadlines for yourself - especially when it sounds like moving forward is a bit intimidating at the moment.

so, i'm going to list out things that might be worth checking out. it takes a while for people to figure out what works for them, and since you mentioned you already know hiragana/katakana you're primed to get out there and really explore your options! embrace the feeling of possibility rather than the fear of the unknown :D i say this bc if you get too caught up in making the "right" choice it might just make learning too stressful to want to continue

anyway here's some things that beginners commonly go for when continuing with japanese learning (under the readmore)

find a textbook and work through it there's a bunch out there, I know Genki I is probably the most well-known, but i'm also familiar with Tobira I, Yookoso, and Minna no Nihongo. textbooks are nice because they're literally designed for learners and offer structure to what order you learn kanji, grammar, etc. and come with lots of practice questions. the difficult part is self-teaching through them since they tend to assume youre also using it with a teacher who can correct you and give advice. however they're still pretty good as references imo! if you google "[textbook name] pdf" they're pretty likely to come up

find an app you can use daily there are also a lot of these, and many of them are designed to be used daily so you can better enforce the habit of studying japanese every day. these tend to be simpler and gamefied to make it more appealing and easier to pick up as well. i would just stay away from duolingo as i've heard their japanese curriculum is bad. some other ones i've heard are helpful are Renshuu and Human Japanese.

find an online guide and follow it by "online guide" i mean websites people have compiled of their own guides to learning japanese, such as Tae Kim. these are more accessible and unlike textbooks tend to assume that you are self-studying, so it's easier to follow independently, but usually don't have any practice questions or ways to test yourself. still good as a reference. you can also check out this website that specifies their philosophy on what makes effective japanese learning and what steps to take as a beginner (imo it's very. long. and winds on for a while. but people have said it helps!)

download and use anki anki is an app (both phone and pc) that uses flashcards and that many learners use to retain vocab. their site has decks other people have created, and you can find decks of "core vocab" for example which has flashcards of common japanese vocab. you can also create your own flashcards of words you encounter in the wild to help practice them even after you've read it. i think anki is super useful, but i would probably suggest using it once you have more of a grasp on basic japanese concepts or else you'll just be rote-memorizing things that don't make sense to you yet. but i'm putting it here in case this appeals to you!

take a class or find an online tutor now this one will most likely cost you money, but it offers the most structure and guidance possible which can be extremely helpful starting out since you're able to ask questions and get feedback. you can look into nearby universities who might offer japanese classes, or you can try one of the many language-learning tutor websites out there. i've had some decent success with italki, and there's also JOI (japanese online institute) that i've heard is very helpful too.

watch japanese-learning videos these can be nice bc you can actually hear the japanese and how it's supposed to sound, and it's typically lower effort and easier to get into than actively starting a textbook or class. miku real japanese, japarrot, and 日本語の森 are channels i've watched before and like, but there's plenty others out there too. i'd just steer away from clickbait-y looking ones like "i learned japanese in 30 days and here's how!!" since they tend to not be that helpful.

read simple stories in japanese reading in japanese tends to be the most intimidating step for people, but there's sites that have stories made for beginners that are easy to follow and only use hiragana/katakana. my go-to for my students is usually tadoku since the stories are short, organized by level, and very beginner friendly. a while ago someone showed me natively which lets you look up japanese books, also by level. if you want some good beginner manga, yotsuba and teasing master takagi-san are what i've recommended before

misc. things you can try!

watch anime but intentionally - try to actively listen and pick up on words they say. a long time ago i used animelon, which puts japanese subtitles that you can adjust to show hiragana only

look up jlpt n5/n4 specific materials. they're geared for an exam so it might not be the most natural feeling, but they do tend to be convenient for lists of vocab and grammar. this website has some helpful resources for that

add an extension on your browser that will let you hover over japanese words and see its definition. i use firefox and have 10ten reader to do this, but rikaikun and yomichan are also similar extensions

when you learn the japanese word for something in your house, put a sticky note on it that has the japanse word. like, for "table" you can put a note on it that says 「テーブル」. i heard this can help with retention (i haven't done it myself tbf)

EDIT: ohh i can't believe i forgot this. but join a japanese-learning community! there's discord servers out there, and if you have a friend willing to study with you you can ask them to be your accountability buddy.

anyway, i know that was a lot but i hope that gives you some direction on where you'd like to go next in your japanese learning journey! ^_^ and again, absolutely no pressure to do all of these. the most important thing is letting curiosity be your guide and fostering a positive relationship with learning japanese rather than being afraid. if i can help out some more lmk!!

[genshin-scenarios]

Adopt a Wanderer: Assimilation [Part 2]

Summary: After meeting Kuni, who's isekaied into your world, you both try to settle into a new normal.

Note: This is meant to be a found-family series with Scaramouche, who you address as Kuni in this AU! Mostly meant to be interpreted as platonic.

Part 1

Your first few days with Kuni were nothing short of lively. The first morning, well – no one can blame you for having to process the situation a second time, after accepting that it wasn’t a dream after all – but you also went over a conversation about him being non-human.

See, you weren’t sure if puppets had to eat to function, or if they had any special dietary requirements (as ridiculous as it sounds, you truly didn't know) - so when you bring up the question to Kuni, he freezes for a moment before sheepishly asking you how you figured it out. In light of not wanting to seem even more suspicious in his eyes (what kind of lunatic adopts a random person from the streets anyways?) you say something about how you noticed the connective markings on his elbows when you leant him your clothes - which was true enough, seeing as you gave him a t-shirt instead of something long sleeved.

You didn’t want to dishearten him any more than he already looked from the reminder, so you give him a smile and ask if he’d like to go shopping for clothes that suit his tastes better.

“Shopping?” Kuni repeats, putting on the jacket you retrieved and his sandals. “Is there a marketplace nearby?”

“Something similar to it, yes.” You lock the door and guide him downstairs, onto the street, and towards the bus station. “We need to get you clothes that fit you properly, and it’ll be easier for you to blend in and visit places that way.”

You’ve thought about this last night, when you were getting extra blankets and pillows for him to use the living room couch as a bed. Even if he was just staying here until he could find a way home, it’d be no different from being a caged bird if you just confined him to your apartment.

You wanted to give Kuni the chance to enjoy your world a little. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows here, but if his current reaction was anything to go by you’d say that the city you lived in wasn’t too bad. It’s peaceful and free of conflict, albeit busy with workers and students and business. There are some nice cafes and affordable restaurants, the public transport is fast, and Kuni is taking in his surroundings like he’s drinking in the colors on a painting. It’s overwhelming and foreign, but his eyes are full of wonder.

When the bus doors open and he hesitates to step on, you offer him your hand as you lead the way. Everyone’s at work or school so the streets are fairly sparse compared to peak hours, and Kuni treats everything you pass by with a quiet curiosity. You mention what each thing is to answer the questions written on his face, and after you exit the clothing shop with his haul, Kuni tugs on your sleeve to ask if you should head to eat next.

You don’t oppose, making a beeline to the cafe that has a promotion on weekdays like these. “Let’s see… I’m not sure what your food preferences are, but their menu has quite a lot of things. If you’re hungry, this place should do the trick!”

Kuni stays close to your side as you navigate the mall, glancing at the other half of the bags that you insisted you could help him carry. “Actually, I asked because you seemed hungry earlier. Um, your stomach sounded, I mean - but anything’s fine! I can eat anything I think, but probably not too much.” He could go without eating too, but when you reach the cafe and sit down with the menu, the images look new and interesting enough that he’s curious about trying them all.

Embarrassment burns when you realize he heard your stomach growling earlier, but you put it off by bulldozing to the next relevant question. “Oh! In that case, why don’t we order a few things to share?” A part of you wants to spoil him for some reason - you’re aware it might also have to do with his potential future once he returns to Teyvat - but another more accurate reason was simply because of how his eyes would light up when there was something he liked; most children might enjoy the moment of sweetness and move on to the next, but with Kuni the sensation seemed to linger with fascination. “That way we can try to pinpoint what kind of food you like.”

“I liked the tea from that day,” he tried to help. “It was bitter, but the aftertaste was nice.”

“Hmm… So something more savory, maybe?” You hum to yourself, ordering a set to share and a side. Remembering how Ei’s favorite food was dango from the game, you were surprised by the way Kuni froze after he tried the pudding that came with the set - the grimace he wore was enough to make you laugh, and you try to stifle your giggling for his sake as he looked away in embarrassment. “It’s alright if you don’t like it!”

“I didn’t expect it to taste so… syrupy.”

“Maybe you’ll like herbal jelly instead, if that’s the case.” You say thoughtfully as you finish the cube of custard. “It still has syrup, but that part is optional and the jelly itself is bitter.” You pause, realizing something. “Huh, the same shop should sell tea eggs too. I’ll try getting some the next time I come back from work.”

“Speaking of… how come you were able to bring me here today?” He tilted his head with the question. “The streets seem quiet, but there are so many residential buildings.”

“I have Mondays off,” You give him a wink. “So I guess you could say your timing was impeccable, for someone that didn’t know how they got here.”

Kuni huffs, a small smile gracing his lips. “I guess so.” I must’ve been really lucky to have run into you.

As the day progresses, you bring Kuni along to buy some groceries and return home. By the end of it he’s grown to walk more comfortably through crowds of people, and even asked if you could teach him to do some of the household chores.

“I don’t want to just live here without doing anything,” Kuni explained, remembering how he’s seen families in Inazuma drying the laundry outside the house. “If you teach me, I’ll be able to earn my stay and make things easier for you.”

Was that why he chatted with the clothing store’s clerk for so long? You remember bits of their conversation being about how most clothes could be washed in a machine, but others might need to be done by hand. You were paying the bill at the time though, so you didn’t hear the entire thing.

As you fold the laundry and show him how to use the washing machine, Kuni stays true to his word and continues to learn household chores from you as the days go by. The week passes by in a flash, but you surprise yourself by how normal it feels to return home and see him there, busying himself with work or reading something from your shelf.

You learn that he tends to not watch the TV unless you’re there, thinking of it as something to do with company rather than alone - not that you were complaining, of course. It was touching how he’d wait for you to come home before watching the newest show you’re binging together, but he'd also get excited about the movies you've watched before and mentioned to him were good (he agrees with some of your opinions and is open to debate about others, but at the end of the day isn't too worked up about it).

Kuni’s also started to mess around with the newspapers that you brought at his request, so that he could learn more about the type of world this was - and also do the crossword puzzles and pick out shopping vouchers for you.

You’ve thought about teaching him to use a computer, but the chance of him coming across his own information on the web held you back - that was, until you tried googling for the game, and it seems like it disappeared into thin air.

Eh?

You’d tried doing the same search on other devices not in your home, and it seems that the erasure only occurs when Kuni is nearby. It was a convenient sort of phenomenon, but it also made you start to question your entire reality; was his presence the thing that caused this? And if so, why were you the exception that’s able to remember the truth despite being by his side?

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you back to reality, and Kuni lets you know that he’d finished prepping ingredients for dinner while you were drying your hair. Despite how he doesn’t have to eat, he indulges in trying a little of everything so that he could get better at cooking - you’ve tried to tell him that the other chores he’s done were more than enough, but he insists that it’s just another skill that would be good to learn regardless.

Unable to refute that, you agree to let him make breakfast and dinner on days where you were busy, but would usually cook with him whenever you can. The speed at which he learns is a little inhuman, but then again it makes you a little proud to know that he’s a quick learner. Everyone that’s met him so far has been enamoured or at least begrudgingly accepting of Kuni, including the neighbours (who now believe he was your cousin).

Despite how you were used to being independent, you had to admit that it was nice to have someone’s company like this - even if it was a person you’d previously thought was fictional. And as for the mystery that surrounds your situation… worrying about it won’t give answers for now, so you push away the thought in favour of enjoying the new normal of your household.

“Oh, and if you don’t hurry, I might add those spices you don’t like without you seeing.”

“What?! Don’t you dare!”

>> Part 3

[snakegorl212006]

What type of guardian are they?(Heartslabyul)

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

---------Riddle(Angel)----------------------- -he’s a rule book kinda guy -in heaven there are rules on how to guide and protect the soul of a individual and he follows every code word from word -I mean what do you expect from this angel -In terms of range; your always in his line of sight but he prefers to be out of sight from you -it’s just easier that way for riddle -Riddle is here to guide you to a path or righteousness and order instead of chaos -when you pass he plans to lead you to heaven and become his assistant or acquaintance -when choosing you, he probably saw you as a person with some form of chaos in your life and in desperate need of some order -most people would say you’d be lucky to have riddle for he can do more than just lead you to order -grades would improve, you seem to be fluent in task and hardly struggle, and would improve in your career -that was riddle helping you in the shadows giving you some motivation -even now you’re oblivious to who or what is giving you this luck

=================================== --------Ace(demon)-------------------------- -he’s the devil on your shoulder -literally -You will be well aware he’s the one looking after your soul which doesn't sound good no matter how he puts it -unlike riddle he’s all for a little chaos and mischief -he’s getting you in trouble by a lot of people -teachers, other people, but not enough trouble to kill you or put you in a terrible situation -he’s not that evil -despite this, he’s super real to you -he’s not a bad person to turn to for advice over some topics -he’s always 100% when it comes to anything -will roast you if you look sloppy or something -he doesn't know what to do with you if you die other then just snatching that soul he’s been protecting and consume it -one benefit of having this guy is that you can see through simple magic -learning simple magic tricks will become easy for you if you wanted to become some street performer

========================================= -------------Deuce(angel)-------------------- -he’s doing his best -you end up finding out who deuce is the second day he was even assigned to you -stealth isn't his strong suit -he’s nice and easy to talk to when you have a bad day -he often goes out with you in human form -he takes your safety very seriously and is cautious about most activities you do -for example let's say you like to rock climb -he would vocalize his concerns and often insist to go with you and triple checks if you have all of the equipment -now even if he express his concerns for some things, it’s really rare for deuce to take action to prevent you from enjoys or participating in these activities -other plus sides to deuce is that you learn self control -deuce wasn't always a good egg in life so he would want to help those who are like himself and have them become something better then the life before

========================================= --------------Trey(demon)------------------------------ -he’s honestly a sweet guy when you meet him -Trey appeared to you when you were at your lowest and gives you encouragement to keep moving forward -it was hard to believe he’s a devil to begin with -he normally found at your place and make sure food is always ready for you -When trey moves in, your place will permanently smell like a bakery -other then stuffing you silly, he also looks after you emotionally and makes sure you’re not harmed in anyway for it’s his obligation and duty -he teaches you how to cook and bake for yourself so it saves some money because you guys don’t get fast food often. -oddly enough other then you gain the talent of baking, you also get the blessing of patients from him -------------Cater(fallen)----------------------------- -he appears to you as a human who wants to room with you and become your roommate -he’s super nice to you and makes you feel like you can tell him everything -that’s the plan after all -Not to say cater will manipulate you for his own advances,he genuinely likes you and so he’d wanted to protect your soul -he wants to get to know you and see if your soul holds true. -he just wants to know if your 100% genuine -if you wanted to know the latest trends or today’s gossip or even the newest things Cater is your man -he keeps you up to date and teaches you the topic of everything -so socal conversations will be less awkward for you to have some basic knowledge of almost every trending topic. -like riddle, he wouldn't reveal his true Identity to you just yet.

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

[mychoombatheroomba]

Nine Names

Disavowed (Krauser x GN! Reader/Krauser x Leon) - Chapter 1

Maybe he did wish that you were with him, if only to have someone he trusted with him as he did this. It would have been nice, Krauser thought, to die alongside someone like that. Someone who understood.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

This is a spin-off of my Leon x Reader series, Between the Bones! It will switch back and forth between Operation Javier and Krauser's perspective on some things from the main story! This can be read in isolation though! Lots of unrequited love from Jack in this, and, well, we all know how his story ends anyway.

Next Chapter

Chapter Index

June 29th, 2002

10:52 

Mixcóatl, Amazon Rainforest

There would be noise, but it would be fast. Making it quick was the least he could do. It would be fast, but that didn’t make the sight before him any easier to stomach. Resigned eyes peering up at him from down the barrel of a gun. A single nod. Acceptance washing over paling features as those eyes closed. The tension of the trigger against his finger. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do this. 

Hell, it wasn’t even the first time in the last twenty-four hours. 

Didn’t make it any easier. 

Still, he pulled the trigger because it’s what he needed to do. It’s what had to happen. It was that or watch another of his men lose their mind, become a threat. It wasn’t for fear of his own safety that he squeezed that trigger, but to spare the man standing in front of him that fate. Barnes deserved better than to turn into a mindless drone, a shell of the man he’d been. He deserved better. All of them did. The Major knew, though, it wasn’t about what he or anyone else deserved. 

So, with a bang that startled some nearby birds into flight, he did what needed to be done. There was the smell of blood and gunpowder, the sound of a body hitting the damp ground, and with that, Jack Krauser was alone. 

He hadn’t been alone two weeks ago, when he’d come to Mixcóatl under the cover of darkness, his men locked and loaded at his side. Ten of them, Krauser included. Nine of the best and brightest soldiers that Krauser had served with before, some that he’d trained. Men and women whose skill he hadn’t doubted for a moment, when they’d been given a name and a kill order. 

Men and women who might still be alive, if things had been different. 

It was hard not to think of those what-ifs, as Krauser looked down at the last of his men’s still body, as he lowered his gun. He’d never been one to entertain fantasies - seeing anything other than reality had always been a good way to end up dead, in his book. He was as good as dead anyway though, wasn’t he? 

If the intel had been better . . .

If they’d known what they were being sent into . . .

If they hadn’t been stuck in a jungle with no way out . . .

If they hadn’t been behind the lines of a foreign country . . .

If they weren’t living in a world where war now meant soldiers turning into mindless monsters . . .

If his evac request had been approved . . .

But that wasn’t the hand he’d been dealt. So, he ignored the tremor in his hand. Knelt at Barnes’ side and rested the soldier’s hands over his chest. Best that Krauser could do. No dog tag to take. There would be no retrieval of the body, Krauser knew that, and there could be no evidence that they were here. Hadn't started out that way, but if the government wouldn't send evac? That meant something had changed behind the scenes, that this had been moved off the books. No names, no traces. Plausible deniability. That had been the game for years now, a game he hadn’t wanted to play, but learned to anyway. Whatever the sacrifices. 

Not the first comrade he’d had to put down, not the first set of dog tags taken to keep a secret. 

He could still remember the look in your eyes when he’d handed you that spare tag, one with the name of a man you’d cared for deeply. 

Krauser wasn’t surprised to be thinking of you, now. Who better to let his thoughts drift towards? You, who had lived the exact moment he’d just lived dozens of times; staring down the barrel at someone you’d known. Cared for. Someone you’d had to kill. You, who’d worn that extra dog tag even if it wasn’t yours, even if you thought that Krauser hadn’t noticed. You’d carried that kill with you in the form of a silver ghost, just as Krauser carried his with him, now. Because even if their deaths would be twisted to keep a secret, they deserved to be remembered. 

Nine pairs of names. 

At least yours wasn’t among them. 

Then again, maybe things would have been different if you’d been here, too. You were a survivor. Always had been, even before Krauser’s training sharpened you into the blade you’d become. Maybe if you’d been here with him, you’d have been able to help him keep the others alive. 

Or maybe you’d be dead, too. 

No. Better that you weren’t with him. Better that your name wouldn’t be on Krauser’s conscience, because the thought of that . . .

He shouldn’t think of you. He’d learned that early on, years before this moment. Thinking of you was dangerous; a distraction. Don’t be stupid because it feels good. He’d told you that, once, and he’d been good at heeding his own advice. 

But if he was as good as dead anyway . . . 

Had this been how you’d felt? Krauser had always felt he understood what it was you’d experienced, all those years ago. He’d always been so sure that his experience in war had given him equal footing with you. Loss was a part of war, and he’d thought he understood why you’d moped around base so often, or why you’d pushed yourself to be the best. 

Krauser hadn’t known a damn thing. 

Now, he did. 

He understood what it was to feel the terror of seeing one’s own turn. He knew what it was to feel the truth settle in his gut that just one bite, one scratch, was all it took to doom someone. He understood how eviscerating it was to watch the color drain from their skin, the light fade from their eyes. He knew the utter fucking hopelessness that came with being unable to stop it. The realization that you were the only one left that was enough to make the world seem ready to cave in. 

He understood why you’d kept your Captain’s dog tag with you through it all - the training, the missions, all of it.

And he understood, perhaps better than anything else, the anger that he’d seen in you. Rage at the fate that had befallen your comrades. Fury at the people who caused it all. 

Or, in Krauser’s case, person. One name to answer for nine.

Javier Hidalgo. 

The same person he and his men had been sent to kill. War-lord head of the Sacred Snakes cartel, smuggler with connections to Umbrella, and the least lucky man on the fucking planet right now, because Jack Krauser was still alive. He was alone, behind enemy lines and outnumbered, but he was alive.

The Major may have been at the end of his rope, but he could still hang Javier from it. 

That was the thought that kept the pistol in Krauser’s hands from finding his mouth and turning skywards. That was the thought that pushed him on through the jungle, leaving Barnes’ body behind. His men would want him to keep going. You would want him to keep going. 

So he did, letting that burning and clawing in his chest carry him forward. 

He moved through the trees as silently as he could, looking like little more than a shadow in dim light painted by the canopy overhead. Enough time spent learning that the fauna in the jungle was just as deadly as the once-people that had dealt his squad so much death made him quiet as he moved on. He knew how to leave as little trace as possible, how to move unseen. The camo of mud he’d adopted kept his normally pale hair and skin from standing out amidst the foliage, and his eyes scanned the rainforest around him. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating.  

Give me your best.

This old dog would taste blood one last time. He’d fight his way through the whole damn forest if he had to. 

If you were there, you would be right there by his side, gunning along with him to mount Javier’s head on a fucking spike. 

Maybe he did wish that you were with him, if only to have someone he trusted with him as he did this. It would have been nice, Krauser thought, to die alongside someone like that. Someone who understood-

Footsteps in the distance - barely audible over the sounds of the forest - made him freeze. He wasn’t sure at first, but then he heard it again; the unmistakable squelch of mud beneath boots, no matter how well the owner of said boots was trying to hide it.  

He shouldn’t have used his pistol on Barnes. Too much noise. His knife would have been smarter. Slower, but smarter. 

Didn’t matter now. 

Just meant another fight. 

Another body added to the count. 

Krauser drew that aforementioned blade with his left hand, holding his pistol in his right. He couldn’t see whoever it was nearing him. And it was certainly a who . No zombie that Krauser had ever seen could hide the sound of their footsteps so well. He wasn’t as alone as he thought, then. Unfortunately for whatever bastard decided he was going to try and interrupt that solitude. So, the Major pressed his back against the tree at his side and listened. The footsteps were faint, but Krauser could hear them as they passed by the other side of that tree, slowly approaching him. He readied himself for a fight, craving that violence that might settle his soul a touch. He waited . . .

Then, nothing. 

Nothing for several heavy seconds but the croaking and cawing of animals and chirping of insects. 

Then, in a blur of movement, Krauser got his wish.

A gun trained on him. That was all the Major saw. A gun and the shape of a person holding it. 

They both moved fast. 

Krauser’s knife slashed out, arcing towards the assailant’s left arm. To their credit, they didn’t fire the pistol. Didn’t cry out as the knife cut into flesh. Not deep. Not enough to make them drop the pistol. The arm wove underneath the rest of his swing, but Krauser was already following through. His right hand, the one with the pistol, moved down, pressing against the armed hand. His knife, meanwhile, moved in a flash of silver forward. 

And Krauser was damned glad that he stopped short of going for that kill when he saw the person behind the gun for the first time. 

Not that relief was ever something he’d thought to feel when it came to seeing those pretty blues looking up at him. 

“Son of a bitch,” Krauser hissed, bloodshot eyes widening. 

As for Leon S. Kennedy . . . he looked like he hadn’t expected to be looking at Krauser at all. “Major . . .” the younger man breathed, slowly lowering his pistol in surrender, his too-perfect features twisted in an expression of utter shock. Krauser didn’t think it was just because of the blade at his throat. 

A blade that the Major lowered after he was sure his rage-and-exhaustion-addled brain wasn’t playing some sick joke on him. 

Or maybe it was the universe doing the joking, because he’d allowed himself to imagine you at his side for this suicide mission. 

And the universe had sent your fucking boy toy instead. 

Your boy toy who should have known better than to come at him in close quarters with a gun. “You’re lucky you didn’t need me dead, rookie,” Krauser growled, “because you’d never have been able to do it moving like that.”

Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Oh, Operation Javier, my beloved.

So, since I'm focusing on the Remake timeline, Operation Javier is different from what's depicted in Darkside Chronicles! Namely that Krauser had a team that he lost this time around, but Leon definitely seems to have still been involved. I was really curious as to how that all shaped up, so until Capcom gives us a more concrete timeline, here's my take on it! It will still definitely tie in a lot of events from the original, but will be adjusted to fit what I think might have happened to Krauser and Leon down there!

[villainsview]

Chapter 15

Trust

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I still couldn’t believe what I was doing. What had gotten into me? It was a long walk back into the city, so I had a lot of time to think. I was almost certain I’d regret this decision, but for the time being there were several things I could do to make it a little easier. First, I had to come up with a believable excuse for Ethel.

“Listen,” I said, recognising my neighbourhood.

Erick quickly caught up to walk closer, despite him trailing behind a bit from fatigue half the way.

“Yes, sir?”

“My house keys were attached to my car keys and still in that warehouse,” I said, “so I’ll have to ask my landlady to let me in.”

“Do you…want me to hide while you talk to her?”

“No, I’ll introduce you to her,” I said, “but you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut. Just pretend to be shy or something.”

“O-okay…”

“I’ll tell her we’re related and I pulled you out of a bad situation. It’s not too far from the truth,” I continued, “she’ll offer us food and drinks. Stay in character and don’t decline anything.”

“She sounds nice, sir.”

“She is, so you treat her with respect, understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good, now shut up,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder to lead him in the right direction as we headed home.

We…

It still had a weird ring to it. Oh well. I reminded Erick to keep quiet a last time, before going up and knocking Ethel’s door.

“Coming!” she yelled through the door, “if you’re here about the trash on the sidewalk, it’s not my fault the city was late picking it up—”

The door swung open, and Ethel seemed relieved to see me.

“Oh, thank goodness it’s just you,” she said, “I’m lying, I put the trash out too late and those damn seagulls got into one of the bags and scattered it all over the street. What are you doing back so soon, dear? Where’s your van? Who’s the little friend? You both look like you’ve gone through hell.”

“Yeah, it’s been a rough week,” I said, “on top of that I got car trouble just outside the city, didn’t have money for a taxi so we walked, and I left my house key on my car keys when I handed it off to a mechanic.”

“Oh you poor thing,” Ethel said, “how could you be so stupid? Come on in, you must be parched. Or starving? Don’t worry, I have enough to feed an orphanage. I’ll cook you up some of those eggs you like, Chase. And what about you dear? Who are you anyway?”

“He’s my nephew,” I said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder as a last warning to be quiet and play along.

“Nephew? I didn’t know you had any relatives. What else have you been hiding from me?” Ethel said with a laugh, taking us through her apartment into the kitchen.

“My brother and I don’t get along,” I said, “he’s not as charming as I am, or kind. Erick here will be staying with me from now on, while my brother learns some manners…”

“Oh you poor dear,” Ethel said, “come sit down, honey. Don’t you worry about a thing. My daddy was in prison too when I was your age, and good riddance.”

She pulled him over to her dinner table and sat him down, but he stayed quiet just as instructed.

“What are your favourite snacks, hun? I’m sure I have some.”

“Um…”

“He’s tired,” I said, “and a bit shy. I’m sure he’ll love your cooking regardless, but he’s got trouble with sticky foods.”

“Oh well, let’s start with drinks first,” Ethel said, busting out different cartons of juice, “take your pick!”

“Remember your manners, kid,” I said.

“Uh…th-thank you, ma’am…”

“Oh you’re so sweet, here! Have a cookie!”

She didn’t even give him a chance to decline, so he just quietly thanked her and nibbled on the cookie. As I watched her spoil him, I started to think maybe this wasn’t so bad. I couldn’t leave him in her care too often, else she might get in trouble, but every once in a while…it was probably better than foster care. I just had to make sure no one was paying attention to him, but in order to do that I needed my van back.

After eating and drinking our fill Ethel gave me her copy of my house key, so we could head upstairs, get cleaned up and get some rest. While I was taking a shower, it seemed Erick made a fresh pot of coffee, serving me a cup when I got out.

“Are you still sure about this?” I asked.

“Not really, sir,” he admitted, “but then I think about the alternative. W-what the pictures were for…”

“That’s behind us now,” I said, “just keep your word and I’ll keep you around.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Speaking of,” I continued, “I prefer to avoid trouble, so we need to make sure the police stop looking for you, though last I heard everyone is assuming you died, but they won’t close the case until they have a definitive answer.”

“About that,” Erick said, “I gathered from that guy that you knew for a while…but you kept telling me you were still expecting money…”

“What I knew was that he was hiding from the police,” I said, “but that didn’t mean he was gone. As far as the police are concerned I don’t even exist, yet here I am. I assumed it was the same for him. But I’m wrong too sometimes.”

“What if he shows up again?” Erick asked quietly.

“I doubt he will, but if he does, I also doubt you’d want to return to him,” I said, “or do you?”

“Maybe,” Erick said, “for a little bit…to get the money you lost back from him.”

“Heh, we’ll workshop that plan after working on mine,” I said, “but I won’t bother you with the details just yet. It’ll take some preparation first.”

“What did you have in mind, sir?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, “hey, go check my bedside table. I should have a backup package of cigarettes there.”

“Yes, sir…”

“Oh and one more thing,” I said, stopping him in his tracks, “I guess you don’t have to be so formal when it’s just the two of us.”

“R-really?”

“Don’t question it or I’ll change my mind.”

“Sorry! I’ll get your cigarettes now…”

He hurried off to search for my back-up package. I guess the extra effort I would have to start putting in would pay itself off…

After catching up on sleep for a day, it was time to see about getting my van back. I decided to go alone, save myself the trouble of having to look over my shoulder for myself and for the kid. But leaving him alone still had its risks as well.

“I want you to stay in the cupboard,” I said, “you can get out for water or the bathroom, but stay away from the windows and keep the blinds closed. Don’t open the door for anyone except for Ethel. You’ll know it’s her, she’ll be yelling through the door. She tends to ask a lot of questions, so stick to the story. The trick to lying is to avoid too many details. Liars tend to overcompensate with too many details.”

“I’ll just let her do all the talking,” Erick said, “she seemed like the kind of person who likes to talk.”

“Great idea,” I said, “I’ll be back soon…hopefully.”

Erick took that as his cue to hide in his cupboard like we agreed on, so I nodded approvingly before heading out, beginning the long walk to the warehouse. Hopefully my van would still be there. I could’ve taken a bus, but the weather was hot as usual, and being cramped in a bus with sweaty tourists seemed worse than just taking it easy on a walk.

When I finally reached the warehouse, it seemed abandoned. I walked around the building, trying to find a way to peek inside to see if it really was abandoned. I found a back door with a rusty padlock. I could probably get rid of it with a good rock. But if someone was inside they’d be onto me in a second… Oh well. Only one way to find out.

I found a sturdy-looking rock, and with only two hits the lock already caved. In hindsight I should’ve gotten a new gun before I came here, my heart rate rising a bit as I carefully opened the door…but there was no sign of life from the other side. I did remember to bring a flashlight though, and a quick look around revealed the place to be empty.

I found the main power switch and flicked it on, causing the lights to flicker to life. Thankfully, my van was right there. I checked the ground around it for the keys, before trying the doors… Turned out they left the keys right there on my seat, thank fuck. I grabbed the keys, getting behind the wheel so I could reach the glove compartment, and my gun was right there.

Good.

That would save me a lot of trouble as well. I sighed relieved, getting out again and heading back to the back entrance, blocking it from the inside, before finding the switch to open the larger doors. I played around with the main power switch to see if the door would close again on its own. There was a good five minute delay, so I flicked off the power while the door was fully open, got into my van and backed out of the warehouse. As I turned into the road, the door already began closing again.

When I got back home, I found Ethel had visited to bring some groceries. Erick reported he offered her coffee and ate the sandwich she made while she talked about this and that before he managed to get her to leave by saying he needed to take a nap.

“Good job,” I said, “and I got my van and my gun back.”

“I don’t like guns very much,” Erick said.

“I don’t care,” I said, “I’ll hit you with it if I have to.”

“Y-you won’t have to, sir!” Erick quickly said, backing away a bit.

“Then shut up,” I said, “I’ll explain my plan, but first…do you trust me?”

“I do…why?”

“Because I’ll need you to get your hands dirty again.”

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[dawninlatin]

manorian angst

When dark forces threaten, the leaders of Erilea must come to aid in yet another war to save their world. The problem is that Manon barely survived the hell that was the last war, and she can't go through it again.

Words: 3.1K | Masterlist | AO3 Link

«Tell me.» Manon ordered as she marched into the throne room, having landed in Orynth mere minutes ago. Abraxos had flown like the wind itself to get them here as soon as possible.

«Nice to see you too,» Aelin drawled from her throne, but her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. The room was filled with the rest of her court, and a few other leaders from Erilea’s kingdoms, including one blue-eyed king. 

«I don’t have time for this. Tell. Me.» Manon wasn’t known to be polite, even on her good days, but her heart had been racing ever since she’d received word of a new, rising threat causing her presence to be needed in Orynth immediatley, and she couldn’t think clearly when she was fighting the panic rising within her.

Not another war. Please, not another war.

«A few days ago, a portal opened, right outside of Orynth. A young female came from it, fae, frantic, begging us in the old language to help her people against these god-like creatures.» Aelin drew a shaking breath, Rowan placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

«We know them better as the valg.»

Manon’s ears started ringing, images of collars and cold, empty eyes appearing in her mind. Of her sisters disappearing in blinding flashes of light, one by one.

She could only half-listen as Aelin explained how she’d seen this world before, when she fell through the wyrdgates, how the valg they had defeated seemed harmless in comparison to these beings that could drain whole worlds of all life, how they had tried to drain this world before, and only gotten stronger since then, how they would eventually come back.

«But not if we help them.» It was Dorian that spoke this time, and Manon would be lying if she said his voice didn’t affect her any bit.

«No.» Manon hardly needed to think. There was no way she was doing this again. She’d barely survived the last war, was barely surviving now. 

Aelin stared at her in shock. Manon couldn’t blame her. They didn’t know she was merely a ghost of who she used to be.

«You closed the gates. Our world can’t be reached,» Manon tried, but it sounded pathetic, desperate.

«She managed to reach us,» Aelin whispered. «Please.»

«No.»

She could feel a pair of sapphire eyes boring into her, and when she turned to look at him, Dorian’s face was full of hurt and betrayal. «Manon-»

«No.» Dorian could hate her all he liked, as long as it meant he was safe. Because how could she explain that just thinking about another war nearly made her suffocate? 

The king gave her a long look, before turning on his heel and storming out.

-

Manon flung the door open, moving into the room where she knew the king would be. «You’re not doing this either. You’re not throwing yourself into this war.» 

Dorian held her gaze for a long moment before he finally spoke, his face unreadable. «If you don’t want to fight with us, fine, there’s nothing I can do, apart from getting on my knees and begging, but I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. I refuse to see this world be destroyed after everything we did to save it.»

When Manon didn’t answer, he turned his back to her, stepping towards the tall window overlooking the gardens. «There’s nothing left for us to discuss, then.» The words were a dismissal, a cue for Manon to leave, and they left a stinging sensation in her heart.

Everything would have been a lot easier if she could leave, but she couldn’t. Not until she’d won this fight. 

Over by the window, Dorian’s jaw tightened with suppressed anger, still not looking at her. A thin layer of frost began covering the glass as she just stood there, remaining silent. 

What was there to say, anyway? That in the past two years, she could count on one hand the amount of times she’d gotten a good night’s sleep? That every time she closed her eyes, she saw her sisters racing towards their deaths, leaving her behind? That when the nightmares were at their worst, Dorian joined them? 

The truth was that Manon was hanging on by a thread, barely keeping her pain and despair hidden.

She needed to say something, though, because she had seen this determination in Dorian before, right before he’d flown off to Morath, fully prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant saving everyone else.

And it was at the memory of waking up alone in a cold tent, terrified, but also so angry, that Manon regained her ability to speak.

«Dorian, please-»

She blinked, and the ice that had slowly been creeping over the window evaporated. Dorian’s head snapped up, and he looked as if she’d struck him. The voice she’d just used hadn’t fully sounded like her own, so raw and full of anguish.

«I can’t-» Manon began, but that voice failed her, her words ending in a hitch of breath. Tears were pressing behind her eyes, dangerously close to shedding.

«You can’t what?» Dorian asked her then, the question so careful, so far from the resolve he’d showed mere moments ago.

She couldn’t do this, was what, Manon thought to herself, but she was about to rupture, about to shatter into a million little pieces she had fought tooth and nail to hold together for the past two years.There was no power in any realm that could stop it, and Dorian would bear witness to it.

«Witchling…» Dorian whispered, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He was so close now, and to her shock, Manon realized she was the one who’d moved closer, craving the comfort of his arms.

«I can’t go through it again. Dorian, please don’t-»

She drew a shuddering breath, but she couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs. Closing her eyes, Manon let the dam break.

«I can’t… I can’t lose more of the people I love when I barely have anyone left! I’m terrified, every fucking second of every fucking day that you’ll fly off on some suicide mission again because you have this insane idea that you need to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else, and I can’t do it, Dorian! I can’t lose-»

She practically screamed it at the king, hitting his chest as the words ended in choked sobs.

Dorian didn’t say anything as he grabbed hold of her arms, then pulled her close. Manon kept heaving, feeling as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, her vision clouded by tears

«Breathe, Manon. Just breathe.» Dorian’s hands moved up and down her back in a soothing motion, taking deep breaths alongside her. «In,» she tried inhaling with him, getting a little more air, «and out.» 

They stood there for what felt like forever, Dorian whispering quiet encouragements, stroking her back, until Manon’s heart finally calmed a little, her breaths becoming more steady.

Manon looked up at Dorian, giving him a wordless thank you. In return, he gave her a soft smile, and Manon was so grateful that he always seemed to know what she tried to communicate, even when she couldn’t find the right words.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, if only slightly, as if he realized something.

«Did you just tell me you love me?» Dorian held her gaze, and part of her wanted to pull away at the intensity of it, but those sapphire eyes had her hypnotized.

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Manon could hear the disbelief, the hope. It was enough to halt her crying, to make her forget, for a moment, that they were actually in the middle of a very important argument.

«That was what you got out of this? Of course I fucking love you, you complete idiot! Are you-»

She knew she sounded hysteric, but before she could finish her sentence, Dorian caught her lips with his.

The kiss was hungry, all-consuming, saying all the words neither of them could voice. 

Manon answered with that same desperate hunger, the salt of her tears mixing with a familiar taste that could only be described as Dorian. 

She needed to be even closer to him, lose herself in the pleasure only he could give her, but Dorian pulled away, panting. His hands cupped her face, and Manon felt the soft caress of an invisible finger move across her lips.

He looked almost wild, and his eyes were stormy as he spoke in a low and raspy voice. «I love you too, Manon. You have no idea how-»

This time, she was the one who pounced, lips crashing against his. If their former kiss was hungry, this one was ravenous. She opened herself up to him, his tongue entering her mouth. She sucked on it, and a low noise came from his throat. His hands moved down, down, to cup her ass, and she grabbed the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist. 

Dorian started walking them towards the bed, meanwhile Manon kissed a trail across his jaw, down his throat, letting her teeth graze over his pulse point. She could feel him growing harder and harder against her, and her core throbbed in answer, needing to be filled.

As he reached the bed, Dorian carelessly tossed her onto it, immediately going to work on removing her clothes. His phantom hands started pulling off her trousers, while Dorian unlaced her shirt. He reached a hand inside to cup one of her breasts, brushing a finger over an already peaked nipple. Manon moaned, urging him to just take the damn shirt off.

He obeyed with a dark chuckle, but he was still too clothed in Manon’s opinion. Dorian stepped out of his own pants, while Manon, ever so impatient, simply ripped his shirt in half.

«What if I really liked that shirt?» Dorian teased, but Manon didn’t have time for his usual swagger. Letting out a near-feral growl, she reached for him, pulling him closer.

They were both naked now, and Manon claimed his mouth in a rough kiss whilst one of her hands  moved downwards, grabbing his hard cock. She gave it a firm stroke once, twice, and Dorian groaned before he pushed her back down on the bed, beginning to kiss a trail down her neck, over her breasts, down-

«Inside me. Now.»

Manon grabbed his hair and pulled him back up to her mouth. She was already dripping wet, her cunt begging for him to fill her with his impressive length.

Invisible hands snaked up her legs, spreading them, and then Dorian lined himself up, filling her in one long, glorious stroke. She moaned at the tight fit, at the bolts of pleasure shooting up her spine. 

Dorian panted, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His lips found her pulse, and he sucked right as he started moving inside her.

Manon held him tightly, clawing at his back as he slammed to the hilt over and over again, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. She lifted her hips to meet his strokes, and the new angle pulled an almost animalistic noise out of her as he brushed against her clit.

Already, she could feel that great wave rising, that blissful release beckoning. Dorian was close too, judging by the way he was panting, his rhythm faltering. He lifted his head and his eyes locked onto hers. Gold meeting sapphire. She couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. It was hypnotizing.

They were both desperate, two souls trying to get as close to each other as possible.

«Say that you’re mine,» Dorian growled, a low noise coming from his throat as Manon tightened her legs around him.

«I’m yours,» Manon moaned, unable to even identify all the emotions she was feeling in this moment. 

«You’re mine.»

«I’m yours.» 

Then he brought his thumb down on her clit, and that great wave crashed over her.

Manon screamed with pleasure, but the sound was muffled as Dorian’s mouth crashed into hers. He thrust into her hard, she could feel his cock throb inside her, could feel her cunt gripping him tight, and as she bit down on his lower lip, he followed her over the edge with a scream of his own.

-

«I’ll fight with you,» Manon said at last, looking up from where she was nestled against Dorian’s chest. A phantom hand was tracing circles on her upper thigh, but she was so exhausted the motion was more soothing than arousing. «I’ll ask my people, too, but I won’t force anyone, not after all they’ve been through.»

Dorian seemed to think for a moment. «I won’t pretend I’m not glad you’ll fight with us though I do feel a bit guilty.» He winced as he said that last part.

Manon touched her fingers to his lips, as if memorizing their shape. «You shouldn’t,» she said, not meeting his eyes. «Part of me knew from the beginning this was the right thing to do, I was just too much of a coward to admit it.» 

«Look at me.» He grabbed her chin, tilting her face upwards. «You’re not a coward. You are so strong, Manon, and we’ve hardly had time to catch our breath since the last war, in which you went through hell. Not wanting to go through that again doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you…» he trailed off, looking for the right word.

«Human?» Manon suggested with a small laugh.

Dorian smiled. «In lack of a better term, yes.»

She remembered a different time, when being called human had been the greatest insult there was, when it had been beaten into her, time and time again, that caring made her weak. That love was for foolish cowards. It pleased her to know that in the end, her grandmother had lost that battle too.

Closing her eyes, Manon whispered, «I’m just so tired of being afraid all the time.» Another tear slipped free, but Dorian wiped it away quickly. She buried her head in his chest as she started crying once more, the sobs silent this time. Dorian only held her tighter, as she shook, stroking her hair.

Two years ago, Manon never would have allowed herself to show this much emotion, to even feel this much emotion, but she was weary, both body and soul, and she couldn’t keep fighting any longer. 

«It will get better. I promise.»

One day, she vowed to herself, even if that wasn’t today, Manon would believe him. 

«And I am sorry for how I left things when I went to Morath.»

«It was crucial-» Manon began, but Dorian halted her, needing to finish his apology.

«I agree, it was crucial to winning the war, but I could have gone about it differently. You laid yourself bare in front of me, and in response, even when I knew how difficult that must have been for you, I left in the dead of night without a word. For that, I am sorry.»

Manon held his gaze, something settling within her at the words she’d unknowingly needed to hear.

«For what it’s worth, if you had woken me up to say goodbye, I probably would have followed you. I nearly did, actually, no matter how furious I was.»

«I’m surprised you didn’t propose this time, to get me to stay,» Dorian mused, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Feeling a smile tugging at her lips, Manon replied, «That plan didn’t work, if you don’t remember.» 

«Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.» He was clearly toying with her, but it made Manon feel a little lighter inside, so she decided to play along.

«You survive whatever hell we’re about to throw ourselves into, and I’ll propose again. I’ll get a ring and everything.» Manon punctuated the words with a trail of kisses down the hard planes of his stomach.

«Deal. You survive, and I promise I’ll say yes this time,» Dorian murmured, his hands going to her hair as she reached his cock, the length hardening once more.

Holding his gaze, Manon let out a breathless «Deal.»

-

«Do you want to know what I’m fighting for?» Dorian asked, his fingers not halting their soothing motions. Manon merely hummed in answer, both of them completely spent, physically and emotionally, after three more rounds.  

«I’m fighting for a future where we can spend days in bed like this, just the two of us, no interruptions, whether that be annoying council members or impending doom.»

 Manon snorted at that, and wasn’t that exactly why she loved him so much? Only Dorian could make her laugh at a time like this.

«But there won’t be a world for us to do that in if we do nothing.»

His words made Asterin’s voice echo inside Manon.

Live, Manon. Live.

And she would. She would take up this fight, join this war, so that she could one day simply live. She owed her cousin that much.

«Should we tell the others?» Something had straightened within her, and her voice sounded stronger, even if she didn’t move from her spot halfway on top of Dorian.

«In the morning. We both need to sleep, and I selfishly want us to stay in our own bubble a little longer.» Manon felt him sigh, and she looked up at him once more, holding his gaze as she brushed his hair out of his face.

«In the morning, then.»

Because the king was right, they needed to sleep. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, though inside, she felt like a great weight had been lifted off her.

Bringing her face closer to his, she mouthed those three wondrous words against his lips, before claiming them. Right now, they could pretend they had all the time in the world. 

«I love you too,» Dorian murmured in between lazy, unhurried kisses.

When they settled at last, Manon was tucked against his side, head resting over his heart, its steady beat a soothing lullaby. The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep, was Dorian pressing a kiss to her forehead.

And that night, no nightmares of the past haunted her. Instead, she dreamt of the future, of clear skies with wyverns flying over head, of lazy mornings spent in bed, of being woken up by a pair of small feet running down the hall and wide, blue eyes and a mess of white curls looking up at her. 

Manon would claw her way to that future if she had to.

Because they would win this war, they had to, and then she would finally allow herself to live.

A/N:

my will to live currently depends on us getting a glimpse of the throne of glass gang, especially manorian, in cc3:) we will get a book about them one day!! stay clowning fellow manorians<3<3

anyway, i rarely have the time to write anymore, because uni means you actually have to do schoolwork:( i should study for my chemistry exam rn, but i wanted to procrastinate, so i wrote fanfiction instead, you're welcome:):)

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @celestialams @darklingswhxore@onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams@rowaelinismyotp@rainbowcheetah512@zoyalovesbooks @wishfulimaginings @dreamlandreader

I keep a separate taglist for each ship, so let me know if you want to be added to any of them!

[yellowocaballero]

I'd be interested in those writing shortcuts 👀 (don't feel pressured though)

Yeah sure! This is in reference to this and this posts.

These are all pretty 'fic style' stories, because they scaffold off pre-existing canon. It's like you're walking inside of a pre-built house and you're putting up new wallpaper and designing the rooms. Novel style is like if you're building the entire house. So these are really great for fun and if you have writer's block or have problems starting a story. They're also really good if you're practicing your dialogue, scene composition, characterization, etc - they are not good for developing skills on how to build the house, but if you're trying to work on actually making a readable story they're great methods to practice. They're also a lot easier to make good lol.

While writing these out I realized that they're almost entirely AUs. This is because I like AUs. You don't have to do AUs, you can adapt these however you want if you just like writing canon. Loser. Anyway, these are my low-effort stories:

A series of disconnected scenes that take place over a long period of time. If you have an idea in mind (or you just want to use the OG work's timeline), then you can show scenes or moments over a long period in time. For example, ages ago I wrote an AU story following the life of one character. One scene for 2008, one for 2010, one for 2012 etc.

Rewriting canon. If you have an AU idea or have a way in mind to change canon to something you think fucks harder, then you can use pre-existing episodes or season plotlines and just add your own flavor to what already exists. If you write for BNHA you aren't allowed to do this. That's the rule. How is all BNHA fic 600k AUs where one extremely minor detail is changed. God they're boring.

Alternate viewpoint/missing scene of a story you have. Like you can do this for canon too but that sounds super boring. This is actually something I do in order to help the quality of the main story - if I'm finding myself writing a super complicated character, I write another story about him from his POV to help give me a handle on him. Or write her parts of the story from her perspective. It's a writing exercise to help me figure out the character and it is also easy and fun.

"X Meets Y". Do you really like Legally Blonde? Do you think your favorite character being Elle Woods would be really funny? Stuff like that. Would it be really funny if your blorbo was Sharpay Evans? Yes it would be. Yeah I DID write a story many years ago that was "X meets Teen Beach Movie", why?

I don't know how many other people out there have extremely convoluted entire AU ideas, but if you have the whole AU in your mind then it is incredibly easy to write little stories or snippets from the AU. Like, so easy. A stand-out scene in your mind, the life of one supporting character, an alternate POV, whatever. Literally whenever I want to write something absolutely 0 effort whatsoever I go back to one of my 3 bugfuck stupid AUs and write something for them again.

This is actually something I think everybody should do, because it is basically how I learned story structure: find the trashiest, most formulaic genre you can. Watch or read something from that genre, or just collect genre conventions. Use the pre-packaged and pre-written formula to structure your own story and fill in the blanks.

(Also, these aren't very tropey or reliant on shipping/romance beats, which is nice if you want to get away from that stuff)

Nowadays, I find all of that helpful when I feel like doing something 0 effort. When I was a less experienced writer and I deadass did not know how to build a house, then these were really helpful for learning what wallpaper looks good and what arrangement of furniture creates good fung shui and what couches go best with that coffee table. They're also good passing. Seriously, these are like the most popular stories on my AO3. People eat this shit up. Why. They're so lazy.

IDK, these are what I do because they're the kinds of stories I like to write! What you find easy to write will be different. This is all a very personal list. I can see my personal thumbprint (no romance, AU central) really clearly. I'm kind of curious now: what are y'all's favorite low-effort, easy, fun stories to write?

Also as a heads up if your story doesn't have any sort of conflict in it, then it will actually very difficult to write. Trust me. Conflict makes you voom. Do it. Please. Love of god.

[lacrimosathedark]

As an acespec person who is likely some kind of arospec too, Alastor ships give me mixed feelings.

Like, I'm extremely uncomfortable with people really sexualizing Alastor, especially in art. It feels...gross. At the same time, I see people staunchly against people shipping Alastor in any way that's not platonic, which...makes me frustrated.

Look, he is canonically ace, but 1. asexuality has levels, 2. Alastor has no idea what ace means, and 3. words are stupid.

I had no idea I was nonbinary or ace as a kid. I knew how I felt, but I thought it was within the range of "normal". I thought I was "just a person" and "a romantic". I thought I was "picky", and that's why everyone was having crushes while I was chill by myself or with friends. I thought maybe I was scared at the idea of being that vulnerable with someone as someone with anxiety, trust issues, and who grew up falling asleep to Law and Order SVU. And I'm a Zillenial.

Alastor is from a whole other century, in a much more repressive society. If I today needed the internet to figure out that my experience is abnormal and there's a word for it, back when the internet wasn't a thing and queer circles were trying to hide from sight, how the fuck is he gonna know? Especially when he loathes seemingly anything that's past his time, which the concept isn't but the term is as is the way he might find out about it. Fuck, we know he doesn't know what ace means.

He also has no reason to seek out an answer. I wasn't looking when I found my answers. I stumbled upon people who shared experiences who had words that clicked with me. Hell, it'd be easier to think it's normal with how much "waiting until marriage" has been historically pushed. He doesn't know there's even something to look for.

In all likelihood, he thought the "right person" might come along someday, but he also had other priorities and didn't care if he found them or not. Why would I go searching for a love I may never find when I can spend my time focusing on my career, dancing with friends, and plotting various murders? That sounds like a lot more fun and a more effective use of time, wouldn't you agree?

And look, in general "finding the right person" isn't a "cure" for asexuality anyway. Except it can look like that on the surface if someone is anything other than 100% sex-repulsed asexual. And (allos writing aces don't seem to know this) sex-repulsion can also be very spectrum-y too, and actively fluctuate.

I'm demisexual, and would actually consider myself sex-repulsed. I have never liked viewing sexual images or videos, it makes me borderline nauseous. I absolutely will not read pure smut. The concept of engaging in sexual activity myself makes me cringe. To me, sex generally brings to mind too much physical contact and gross bodily fluids. I'm disgusted by even getting other peoples' sweat on me. I'm okay listening to friends talk about their interactions only to a limited extent--I need to be able to have distance and not be given extreme detail.

But if I think about someone I actually like, or if I'm reading a story that has had a buildup in the relationship, it's...nice. It's a very different experience. It seems less like too much touch and gross bodily fluids and more like intimacy. It's...I'd almost call it pleasant? It's hard to describe, but it's a complete shift in mindset depending on circumstances. Most of my inherent reflexive disgust just goes away.

There's a chance Alastor could be like that. He is, quite clearly, some kind of sex-repulsed (thank you Angel Dust) but that doesn't completely block him out of sexual interest. But Angel is...excessive about that side of his personality. And that could be part of why the repulsion seems so strong with him. There are levels of tolerance. I can watch Hazbin Hotel and Angel Dust, but I can't comfortably watch Helluva Boss because the first episode Stolas is...very explicit. It's just too uncomfortable for me to sit through. (this also isn't a judgement of whether it's a good show or not, it's just not for me)

And even if Alastor doesn't experience attraction, he could still have sexual engagement with someone for other reasons. I don't think we have solid confirmation that he's aro, but even then that is again a spectrum and Alastor has no inkling on the concept.

He could involve himself in sex because he has romantic feelings for someone and that outweighs his disgust. Or perhaps even intense platonic feelings, disconnecting the act of sex from romance entirely. QPPs can do anything they want and honestly I feel like those labels are super blurry anyways, because what denotes an action as romantic or sexual or platonic besides intent and perception? Like, friends can cuddle, happy lovers can sleep in separate beds, people joke about kissing the homies good night. Words are messy and nothing matters.

He could also use it as a manipulation tactic. Because if there's one thing we know about Alastor, it's that he's a manipulative little shit. And while the reward would need to be extremely high, I could see Alastor using someone's attraction to him against them in that way. Why would he not use every tool at his disposal?

And from personal experience, a lot of writing in the fandom is through the lens of Alastor being non-sex-repulsed asexual, or otherwise demi- or greysexual. And while I could definitely use more fluidity in the sex-repulsion category (cuz unfortunately a lot of people write it as either completely repulsed or not repulsed whatsoever), at least a good number of people are trying to be respectful. Just because they ship Alastor with someone doesn't mean they are being disrespectful or casting aside his orientation by default.

And while Alastor being enthusiastic about it is extremely ooc and I hate that with my very soul, people are allowed to play with fictional characters how they want to. They aren't real. Neither are the Barbies whose faces you smashed together as a kid. They aren't actively hurting real people, and don't necessarily think differently of real ace people.

I'm aware that I may be projecting my sexuality onto Alastor given that he has shown sex-repulsion that I relate to. Maybe I think the idea of him being romantically involved with someone is cute. Maybe I don't mind the idea of him doing sexual things for love or other personal gain like power or control. But who the fuck am I hurting by doing that? Who is anyone hurting by doing that?

And dude, you're watching a show about redeeming sinners, showing that some of the worst people can change and puritanical people are irrationally judgemental asshats. Someone portraying an ace character as not 100% sex-repulsed is a weird line to draw there.

If you're a 100% sex repulsed asexual who's uncomfortable with people shipping Alastor, that's perfectly fine. But not every asexual completely shares your experience, and life itself is uncomfortable. And for better or worse that isn't going to change. I suggest you simply avoid engaging as much as you can for your own peace of mind if nothing else. Blocking tags and accounts is actually great for that. Someone doesn't have to be a dick for you to block them, and you won't have to see their content anymore. Tumblr Savior is a helpful tool too.

This is my very longwinded way of saying just because Alastor is aroace doesn't mean he can't be in a romantic-coded relationship, a qpp that isn't specifically stated to be such, or engage in sexual acts. And writing him ooc is icky but also completely fine and people can do what they want.