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iiitsnotbase · 2 years ago

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A Dorm Of Friends And Flowers

AO3 Version: A Dorm Of Friends And Flowers - Chapter 1 - PurpleLaptop1 - Dimension 20 (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]

Binx Choppley did not belong here, and she knew that the second they dipped into the bathroom to fix her knee brace and looked down at themself. The bathroom was stunning, all black marble intertwined with gold and white sinks, huge wooden toilet stalls were polished so the original pattern of the wood was still visible on it, and even that had gold leaf in it. It looked like the bathroom had been inspired by kintsugi, and Binx could see her reflection in almost everything. There was a huge, full-length mirror on one of the walls, and when Binx met their own eyes, she faltered and paused.

It was their first time looking, truly looking, at herself without long sleeves or joggers on. Her good friends Gwyn, Scratch, and Mika, who had come to help her move into her dormitory, had convinced her to show her scars, because according to Mika, “It shows you're strong, Binx.”. Binx wished they shared the sentiment. Currently, they wore a cruel parody of a dancer's outfit, which on any actual dancer, would have made a sight to see. A black leotard that exposed their shoulders and the straps of her sports bra, but covered her arms where their scar was the worst, and black shorts underneath a maroon/purple wrap skirt she had made for themself before she left her old school. And of course, her knee brace and ballet flats. Her shoulder-length brown hair had been freshly styled by Gwyn this morning, but you could still see the pink at the bottom, past her chin, where she hadn’t cut it off yet. Binx did not belong here, plain and simple. They looked at the long red scar, starting past her ears and spreading down her arms and legs, fanning out across her entire body and being the worst at their stomach. The bathroom door opened, and in walked Gwyn.

Gwyn looked far more comfortable in her skin than Binx was, with jogger bottoms and her jacket from their dance academy; The Academy Of Dance Craft (T.A.O.D.C), her short pink hair pulled back into a bobble behind her head. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing.” Binx lied through their teeth, but Gwyn saw straight through it. Green eyes met blue ones, but the shades were so similar they might have been identical anyway, the blue eyes narrowed. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”

“Binx, come on. I’ve danced with you for fifteen years now. I know when something’s wrong.” Binx knew this to be true, but she wished it wasn’t. Gwyn and Binx had met in a dance class when they were five, and Mika was 10, and a helper at their saturday class/given them extra study time and dance lessons on show weeks. Skrank had joined them when they were 7, and they had been a group ever since. Mika was lovely, with a sweet younger brother who she’d been taking care of since she was 18 and could legally do so, a whirlwind of emotions and love. Skrank and Gwyn had been an item for so long now, but they both wanted well-established careers in dance before they got married. So yes, it had technically been fifteen years, and yes, maybe Binx was 20, and Gwyn was 20, and Skrank was 20, and Mika was 25, and maybe everything had been going well, and Binx hadn’t lied to Gwyn for a long time, but this was-

This was different.

Personal.

“Binx.” Gwyn said, holding onto their shoulders. Binx hadn’t realised they had fallen against the sink, and was now gripping it with both hands, until Gwyn snapped her back into reality. “You’re gonna be ok. I swear.”

“But what if I’m not?” It was a tiny voice, it wasn’t Binx Choppley’s, it wasn’t the strong voice that Gwyn knew. It was weak, exactly as weak as it had been after the brief stay at the hospital, as weak as it had been at the slip and fall, as weak as it had been when she was told she could never dance again. Binx watched Gwyn think for a moment before removing her jacket and draping it around Binx’s shoulder’s.

“Then I’ll be on the first train out here. And I’ll fuck up whoever made you not ok.” Gwyn and Binx shared a moment of laughter, and Binx tugged the jacket around their shoulders tighter, even though it was already a size too small for her. It was an interesting shade, a deep purple, almost black, with cheap vinyl decorating it, the logo in the top left corner and ‘GWYNDOLIN THISTLE-HOP’ across the back of it in chunky white letters. The inside of it was fluffy, much warmer than Binx’s current outfit, designed to keep the muscles of the dancer wearing it warm. Not a dancer, a designer, but still. “Come on. Let’s go and find your dorm room.” Gwyn held out a hand to Binx, and Binx joined their arms together as they left the bathroom.

Andera belonged here, he felt it in their bones. As he moved across the varnished wooden floor of the dance studio, watching his own reflection in the mirror, he never felt more alive or alert. Their days of peeking out from behind the pillars at this school were over, he was a student here now, and they were going to shine. He was in his second year now, a second year dance student and my god, they were ecstatic to have survived the cuts given that they had…been socially awkward to the group they were being assessed with, and faltered in their final assessment, the piece he was dancing now. They had named the piece ‘True’, and it was to an old song their Mother sang to his sister, slow and steady and calm, nothing too technical but just enough skill so as to be tasteful and show off. He finished the piece and heard a knock at the door, so rushed to get his jacket.

His jacket, as all jackets were here, seemed to be more for appearance than practicality. Made out of pure silk and embroidered with fine silver and colourful thread, flowers on the sleeves and the back, and ‘Andhera Unselie’ on the back of it, in that same silver thread. It was not warm, but it was comfortable, and it covered his neck. “Enter.” He called whoever was behind the door, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair (by choice, not by age, thank you), and trying to look as nonchalant as possible. In strode a tall, dextrous, thin man, who had taught and advised Andhera in their first year at the School. “Mister Advisor!” Andhera said, face lighting up.

“Andhera. How are you today?” Mister Advisor asked, calm and comfortable. Andhera, now seeing who it was, let his idea’s and presence drop. The arms flopped to the side, the boy inside came out and Andhera hunched over.

“Can I be honest with you man?”

“Of course.” So, Andhera walked over to Mister Advisor and placed one hand on his shoulder.

And then the other.

And then leaned down into Mister Advisors shoulder.

“I can’t fuckin’ do this man. I can’t-” Andhera’s breath became fast and shallow, and Advisor took them into his arms while he cried. Andhera tried to forget, and they did, but they forgot inconsequential things, like what they had for lunch, or where he left their keys. The defining moments of his life, their childhood, were too vivid to forget but too painful to remember, unfortunately his brain dragged those painful memories to the front, and forgiveness was still a priority and a gift Andhera needed to give.

“You are…Strong, Andhera.” Mister Advisor said, gently patting his student on the head. “I don’t think I am.” Anhera sobbed.

“You are. You’re stronger than you know, and stronger than anyone else can see. How long have you been living here? Alone?” Andhera sniffed. Words were never Advisors strong suit, he was a dancer after all, but these did make them feel strangely comforted.

“Five. Years.” There was a pause for a small sob in the middle of that sentence, but Andhera powered on through it. “Since I was…Can we not talk about it?”

“Of course not. Would you like to go back to your room? You’ve been here since five. It’s time to shower and rest. You are stinky.” Andher threw their head back in a laugh, but caught themselves in the mirror. Dark skin, dark jacket, and darkness personified stared back at him, and Andhera gave up on the half hug and walked over to their bag, taking a scarf out and wrapping it around his neck. “And there is an initiation ceremony tonight. You are expected to be in attendance.”

“Why would I be in attendance?” Andhera asked, completely confused. Advisor looked like someone had slapped him across the face, “I’m not a freshman.”

“No, that’s correct. But you’re dancing. Have- Have Wuvvy or Delloso de la Rue spoken to you recently?” Andhera paused. He knew of Wuvvy, a sweet, shy girl in his year, of the management course, and they had worked with Rue on last year's end-of-year performance, but hadn’t spoken since.

“No, neither spoke to me. Are you sure it’s me? Are you…Alright, Sir?” They watched Advisors' eyes grow slightly misty, before he shook his head and looked at his phone.

“I am quite alright, thank you. Go to your dorm. Rest.” Andhera, slightly terrified of Advisor, did as they were told and headed off to nap.

Delloso de la Rue was in their office, seafoam hair put in a high ponytail as it always was when they were struggling over an assignment, and this was, of sorts, an assignment. In your third year, and final year, you were supposed to take on a personal project at least five times. This was Rue’s first one; An opening party for this evening, and the new freshmen at the college. They had already contacted a few major performers, like Captain K.P Hob and The Lords Of The Wings, (they were only looking forward to watching one of those performances, and it was not the Wings) but they still felt like there was something they were missing. So, instead of suffering alone, Rue picked up the old phone on their desk and dialled the number for five rooms over. Someone picked up the phone, a fellow management student. “Hello?”

“Hello Theo,” Rue greeted calmly as they could, “how are you?” There was a pause. Rue couldn’t see Theo’s face, but they could picture it. Theo was a full-time student, and part-time model. He had high cheekbones and white hair that Rue was sure he had tinsel or light dye in, because when he flipped it over his shoulder, it shone in the light. He was the human personification of a snowman, right down to his style.

“I’m…Good, thank you.” Came the reply, “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m alright. Is Wuvvy with you?” There was static on the other end of the line. Something Rue knew was that Wuvvy and Theo, if not with Squawk and themself, were with each other.

“Wuvvy!” Theo said on the other end of the phone, not talking to Rue but the noise still coming through. “It’s Rue for you.” There was the sound of soft footsteps, then a quiet, almost silent,

“Hi.” A bright smile spread across Rue’s face, practically threatening to split it open across the middle. Wuvvy was a good student, and the exact kind of person Rue needed for this situation. A practical thinker, working in the dark and shadows despite practically glowing in them, and a top-rate planner. She was also in the year below them at the school, so they had, in a way, taken her under their wing.

“Wuvvy, are you doing anything right now?” Rue asked, trying to be as calm as possible. Unfortunately, even through a phone screen, Wuvvy knew them better than anyone, and knew that they were panicking.

“Yeah, why? Which room are you in?” He could practically hear her signalling to Theo that she was going to head off in a minute, into the room where Rue was.

“I’m in 2.7.” Rue replied.

“Oh. Why didn’t you come and get me then?” She teased, but Rue could hear the fondness under it, because it was not far down, or hidden under a thick layer of sarcasm or aggressiveness. “I’m on my way. I love you.”

And Rue did not pick up on that.

“I love you too, Wuv’s.” And Rue put the phone down. Having every room connected by a three-number phone call made it very useful for cross-team communication. Wuvvy arrived two seconds later, and dropped her bag by her feet. She had clearly run, or been crying, her pale face stained with red on top of her freckles. Her platinum blonde hair was up in a ponytail tied with a scrunchy, but that was also falling out, and her clothes, a simple black T-Shirt over a striped yellow and orange pyjama top, and black leggings and trainers. “Hi.” She panted.

“Hi.” Rue said back. “Are you alright? Deep breaths.” Wuvvy did as Rue said, copying their movements and breathing. “Good girl.”

“You…You wanted a consult?” Wuvvy said, now much calmer. Rue walked over to the file on the desk by the laptop and placed it in Wuvvy’s hands. She flicked through, offering no opinion on the decor, but gently thumbing over it. Rue was no fool, and they noticed the slight dent in her thumb where she’d been holding a pen. “Something’s missing.” She said, putting the file on the desk and pointing at the page titled ‘List Of Performers’. It read like this:

Act

K. P Hob

Chirp Featherfowl and Squawk Airavis.

“You’re missing a dancer. What about Andhera Unseelie? The dance student in my year.” Her suggestion was quiet, a soft breeze carrying an autumn leaf, but the leaf hit Rue in the face like a slap. Wuvvy had to notice their change in expression. “Rue? You ok?”

“Yes, thank you- The issue is I have no way of contacting him. I have not got their phone number, and I have no idea what dorm they are in this year.” Wuvvy tapped a hand to her chin, and walked back to the phone and gestured at it. “Process of elimination?”

“Yes.” Her answer was plain and simple, but her eyebrows screwed down when she said it, as if it had been obvious the whole time. Rue laughed to themselves, and picked up the phone.

After around thirty failed attempts, and being ready to give up, a voice Rue didn’t know answered. “Hello?” The voice was small and quaint, probably a first year.

“Hello, do you dorm with Andhera Unseelie?” There was a long pause. So long, Rue was so ready to put the phone back on the wall and have it be an empty slot in the show.

“One second.” The phone was dropped, and there was the sound of footsteps walking up and down. Then the sound of a knock, then a conversation between two people who didn’t know the phone was still on. “Andhera?”

“Huh?”

“Were you asleep?”

“No.”

“You looked asleep.”

“Sorry. Who are you?”

“Oh I’m Binx Choppley. There’s someone…On…” Binx cleared their throat. “The phone for you.” They finished their sentence quickly, and ran hastily back. “They’re on their way.”

“Thank you my dear.” It took a few seconds, but Andhera came on the phone not long after Binx had left.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy, sounding like he had been up all night. “Who am I talking to?”

“My name is Delloso de la Rue. Are you free this evening?” There was a moment of silence, a moment where nothing was said between them. There were a lot of those when talking to someone over the phone here.

“Sorry, I nodded. But yes! Yes I am.” Rue smiled to themselves, flashed Wuvvy a thumbs up, Wuvvy promptly did a little happy dance, and made Rue laugh.

“Uh, excellent. Can you please- Can you come down to dance studio ten in,” Rue glanced up at the clock, 15:54. The mixer was at 20:00. They’d have to tech an entire routine in just a few hours. “As soon as you can?”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” And when Rue hung up the phone and turned to Wuvvy, they both checked nobody else was with them, squealed, and bounced up and down. They celebrated for a little bit, but Rue quickly remembered themselves when they saw their reflection in the glass.

Their seafoam hair was back, they had glasses on, and their pale skin had patches of discolouration over the top of it. They currently wore a matching set of Pajamas to Wuvvy, and bunny slippers. They had not really thought about what they were wearing when they left their dorm room, but here they were. They truly had lost track of time. “I should go and change.” They said, fingers tracing over a particularly violent discoloured patch on their nose. “I’ll see you tonight, Wuvvy.”

“Yeah. See you later.” And, without thinking much of it, Rue threw their arms around Wuvvy. The hug was received and returned instantly. “You know I love you, right?”

“Right. Thank you Wuvvy. Love you too.” A sad smile, and Wuvvy was gone.

#binx choppley #prince andhera #captain kp hob #delloso de la rue #lady chirp featherfowl #lord squak airavis #wuvvy #theodore #a court of fey and flowers #dimension 20 #binxhera #ruehob #binx x andhera #rue x hob

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macaroni-rascal · 1 year ago

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Sorry I'm late with the women's FS review, you-know-which dress took me out, and now I'm also reeling from H/B's WD. Why does god hate me? Anyway, redemption fashuns from many this time around.

Young - a decent dress, very pretty skirt, but I'm wishing away the darker shade at the top. If she's already skating to an autumnal theme, if the soft yellow had continued up and they'd just used rust-colored rhinestones, she would've looked like a leaf changing colors and it would've been light and bright, which she needs rn. One of several kinda stereotypical skating dresses here, but what're ya gonna do. I feel really bad for her because we can see the sadness in her eyes and I wish she'd allow herself to take a break. The Korean ladies already look tired and we know why 😡.

Our poor baby Clare. Her presence here is less reflective of her preparedness and more of her coaches' seemingly pathological need to insert themselves into the conversation at any cost, regardless of whether they have anything to say. A mindless Yuna knockoff with matching styling from 10-15 years ago. Truly random stoning on the dress, and don't even get me started on the back. It's like they fed Yuna programs into ChatGPT and this is what it spat out. If we're doing over-the-boot tights, then why not cover the heel as well? Somebody pull this sweet child out of Colorado because she did incredibly well considering the material she was given.

Seoyeong - massive improvement, beautiful colors, great shading, but again - we've seen this exact dress in a million different iterations. Nevertheless, it doesn't offend me because it follows the lines of the body amazingly and it enhances rather than detract. They might wanna work on opening her shoulders a little bit. Exogenesis is officially overdone.

Hana is so cute! She kinda looks like a blend of Riku Miura and Akiko Suzuki, don't you think? The construction of the dress is good, but the appliques and rhinestone shapes seem truly haphazard. I don't know what the deal with the one red glove is, but I would've put it on the other hand. Kinda random combo of music pieces. A bit of a leg wrap they'll want to address but there were some moments of real sensitivity in this, I'm excited to see how she develops.

Omg Nini again. This could've been a spectacular dress, which is why I was in physical pain watching this. The color is fabulous, I love the lacy shoulder straps and neckline, but everything going on between the bust and the knees is a felony. Why is the bodice so narrow? Why are the side cutouts so big and asymmetrical? Wth is that medallion in the middle of her back? Why the chewed-up skirt? Just imagine if the tan gloves were purple lace matching the dress. I'm livid, I'm filing for emergency custody.

Okay, Katya - possibly the best dress she's ever had, but lbr it's a low bar. Nice colors and ombre, but I wouldn't have slit the sleeves and I would've just had them run to a point over her hands for extra flowiness and sense of extension, since she's itty-bitty. The V in the back and front is well-placed and the flowers I didn't mind since the front needed something, but they're a bit outdated. Not a fan of the opening signature Russian miming, but they're clearly working with her to mature her, it'll just take time. And can we please retire the arms above the head in the jumps? Btw, didn't Brian get a hip replacement, like, yesterday? I didn't expect to see him here at all. I see his tie is from the same fabric as Ilia's FS shirt and for that, he's canceled.

This will again be in two parts out of consideration for those who will have to scroll past my ramblings.

Correct opinions were shared.

#fashionista nonny #konner talks skating

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elminx · 1 year ago

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As of the end of August 2023, I am caring for 42* houseplants (including propagations since they require separate care).

Of these 38 are in what I would call my permanent collection.

My oldest plant (the plant that I've had the longest) is my spider plant. My newest plant is a Dragonfruit Cactus. My oldest plant (age since propagation) is my Hoya publcalyx which is rumored to be 20 years old. My plant that is still in water is a NOID cane begonia. I'm feeling fairly lucky at the moment because I have very few "problem" plants. I have a Peperomia caperata that hasn't ever thrived in my care (it's in the three-leaf club) and my Cyclamen has been battling aphids off and on all summer. This is better than when I last recorded a planty update in December and I was having problems with the peperomia plus by aloe and jade props. The succulents have spent the last five months outside in my shaded backyard and they will likely remain there for another month or two more. I think that the higher light and harsher conditions helped to harden off my babies and I'm hoping has made them much more resilient. I intend to pick one of my three jade babies to keep and see if anybody wants the other two. Grow light space is going to be at a premium.

The only thing in water at the moment is the NOID cane begonia that I picked up right before I went on vacation. The prop was on more than a foot of cane and I wanted a more compact plant so I chopped the plants at the tops and am now rooting 12 top cuts and the canes by themselves. In other words, some people are getting begonias for Christmas this year.

I'm working on figuring out what types of plants I want to care for. There are a few plants that my partner is attached to that I'm keeping, but otherwise, I'm being very intentional and trying to find and keep plants that my house and I get along well with.

So far my favorite genius is Hoya though Scindapsus and Bogonia are in the running. My favorite plant during the month of August is my Begonia Flamingo Queen who has been producing an amazing display of salmony blooms all month long. The runner-up is my newest African violet who also bloomed for the first time (she's bright pink and has ruffly flowers!). You might sense a theme there.

My favorite non-flowering plant this month is my Hoya carnosa Krimson Queen because I love watching its leaves emerge with gorgeous variegation.

The growing season has treated my plants very well this year.

Without accounting for the two mature Golden Pothos in my care, the plants with the most growth were my Begonia Flamingo Queen, my Cebu Blue, and my NOID Hoya whose new growth started turning red this month (it wasn't red earlier in the summer?).

The height of the summer has past us now and it is already starting to cool down some at night. My plants get better light in the spring and in the fall so we're going into ideal sun positions but the plants will lose the high temps that they've been enjoying. The humidity tends to stay high through most of Autumn here, so hopefully they will get that for a bit longer, too.

Winter is coming. It's being predicted to be a cold and wet one for us here in the Northeast. I know that I need to acquire at least one more set of grow lights as my taller plants can't fit on the plant stand anymore. I think that I know what I am going to do and I can share more details once I've completed the project if people are interested.

I also need to plan to bring the houseplants that have been living outside all summer back in. I'm very paranoid about bugs so each plant is going to keep a thorough pest treatment and I have a quarantine zone, so that SHOULD be worked out.

The snakes have their own zone of the house anyway, so I'm not concerned so much about them but all my other succulents need to go back onto the top shelf of the plant altar. I think that there's enough space on my plant stand plus the northeast corner of my living room to get grow lights on all of my plants but...we will see.

This winter's other experiment will be to see whether I can grow golden pothos in my Northern windows. (I live pretty far north so in the dark times they get very little light) I'm also training of the two to grow up my walls so we'll see how that goes.

My easiest plants are the snakes and the dragons (Sansaveria and Dracaena). My highest maintenance plant is my Flaming Queen because she's been thirsty and dropping flowers constantly. My cheekiest plant is my NOID Hoya which grew a tendril away from the grow light and onto the shelf above where I keep my witch supplies. The best variegated leaf goes to my Hoya australis Lisa. The best green leaf goes to my NOID Hoya.

I have spent $110 on houseplants this year. The most expensive houseplant I bought was a Philodendron painted lady that I bought at a reasonably mature size for $25. The least expensive plant I bought was the Dragonfruit cactus which I got for $4 by using a coupon.

I bought seven houseplants and traded for or otherwise acquired another 14 cuttings on top of that.

I'm feeling pretty full on houseplants just for space reasons. Eventually, all of my Epiprenum and my Scindapsus should be mature enough to hang in my windows but until then, some of them need to vie for table space. A woman to whom I just gave a Rosa rugosa bush said she might drop me off a cutting from her Hoya, but, otherwise, I might be done for this growing season.

My goals for the year were: vines for days, harden off the jades, rehab the aloe, Grandfather cactus, growth on the Krimson Queen, to propagate the Monstera and the Peperomia, and to get more comfortable with watering. I'm feeling pretty good about all of these things.

*I am not counting either of the two avocado pits that I am trying to root since neither has any progress yet

#houseplants #words #mine #personal #houseplant journal

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troutfur · 2 years ago

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Idk if i should limit myself to just canon characters since this is just warmups - feel free to replace a canon character or own original character with this little thingy and write a conclusion. Consider the name a placeholder. Prompt: Snailfoot slid down into the unstable depths clumsily, barely avoiding skidding over a ledge. Traversing the deeper caverns was dangerous, but thy knew the way. They lept across the chasm, leading the rest of their team.

OOOH! Not what I had in mind, but I can work with this! Now I'm wondering what Snailfoot's up to as well, let me see...

Snailfoot barely avoided skidding over a ledge as they led the rest of their patrol down into the dark, stony depths. They lept across the chasm, giving a signal for the rest to continue as they found solid ground beneath their feet again. As the rest crossed one by one, they remained on stand by, ready to help anyone if they happened to slip.

Traversing this deep into the caverns was a dangerous affair. It was a fine enough nesting place in the coldest moons of leaf-bare and the shade provided a much needed respite from the blazing sun of greenleaf. But this was much farther than any BeachClan warrior ever dared to traverse, any but...

"I really should've kept a closer eye on you," meowed Spidernose, settling besides Snailfoot as the patrol resumed on their way. "When did you even have time to run off in here? I don't remember you ever skipping a training session or anything..."

Snailfoot eyed their former mentor, unsure of how to even respond. They gave a cough then continued leading. "I don't think it's all that important at this point isn't it."

"Oh no, I do think it is," Spidernose said. "You might've turned out fine, but what about the next adventurous apprentice who decides to run down here when no one's looking? What would Sparrowstar think?"

Snailfoot waved his tail to signal to his patrol to halt then crouched in preparation for another leap downwards. Though their front legs landed fine enough, their hind legs threatened to slip across the edge of the platform he'd lept to.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Snailfoot said with a sigh.

"That doesn't answer the question still," Snailfoot pointed out. "Is this why I never saw you eating with the other apprentices?"

They shook their head. "It's what I did instead of sharing tongues but it wasn't why I avoided them."

The words hung heavy over the air for a few moments, the air turning silent save for the constant dripping droning on in the background and the pawsteps of the cats on the stones as they followed Snailfoot's lead.

"I'm sorry, Snailfoot. If I'd noticed before I would've..." The older cat gave out a sigh, trying to remember back to the quiet apprentice they'd mentored, a model of outstanding behavior in every way. Back then they'd felt lucky their first apprentice had turned so obedient and quick to learn but now... "I don't know but I always thought it was just that you had to get out of your shell on your own. So, what happened between you and them?"

Spidernose hung his tail over Snailfoot's shoulders, only for the young warrior to shove it away and begin trotting faster ahead. "It was not your fault, anyway."

"Wait, Snailfoot, just--"

"I've let it go!" Snailfoot hissed, baring his teeth towards Spidernose before shaking his head and returning to guiding. "Let's just get on with this. If we delay too much we may not have a Clan to come back to..."

#woo!#this was an interesting direction for this to take #I ended up making it a dialogue prompt anyway hahahah #as I improved the back and forth a very clear character began to pop out at me #man this takes me back to my original fiction days #been a while since I wrote for characters that came out of my brain rather than borrowing someone else's #ficlet #writing request

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sophluorescentmusing · 2 months ago

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sunbleached colt v.2

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Chanyeol murmurs, pointing at the characters carved into the ancient, gnarled oak that drapes itself across the back of the property. The leaf-dapple dances across the crown of his head, turning deep brown a richer shade of chestnut, and then atop his shoulders and his back. “Baekbeom?” His fingertips press to the bark, and Baekhyun feels the touch against his own skin—phantasmic, supernatural.

“He was a couple of years older than me,” Baekhyun says, following just a pace behind his friend. The stickers and the burrs hiding in the grass prick the balls of his feet, but the cool touch of the oak-shaded dirt beneath soothes the ache and the sting and the biting hurt of them.

“Was?”

“He passed.”

“How old was he?”

“Nine.” Baekhyun shrugs his shoulders, finally joins Chanyeol right near the trunk of the oak. He rubs his thumb across the jagged lines enscribing both his and his brother’s names, and then across the jagged, Roman letters spelling out the names of some of their friends (Baekbeom’s more than Baekhyun’s—he never carved anything after Baekbeom’s burial… didn’t feel right). “I was seven. Don’t remember too much.”

What he means to say is he spent most of the funeral trotting about, hiding under decorations and getting underfoot. It hadn’t quite sunk in that Baekbeom wasn’t going to climb out of his coffin and be home for dinner. The realization that he’d be buried came later, when the earth was being shoveled down onto a box that sounded far too-hollow (the body inside much too small to fill it and create the resonance of a life well-lived).

He can feel Chanyeol’s gaze on him. Not for the first time, he thinks Chanyeol can see through him much better than he lets on. He plays the fool at school—clowns throughout the lessons—but humor requires cleverness, and Baekhyun has long since realized that when everyone’s eyes close and their heads go thrown back with laughter, Chanyeol watches. He takes note. He learns. He adapts.

He is much more observant than he lets on. Perhaps, that is why Baekhyun has enjoyed allowing him close. He sees the same things Baekhyun does, and just maybe, that suggests he’ll see something in Baekhyun too—something the others do not.

“Sorry, anyway. I’m sure it was tough.” Chanyeol watches him sink to a crouch, and then find a good root to lounge against (wary of making the seat of his pants wet with the moist earth beneath the tree; his mother’d kill him if he came back with mudstains on his church clothes). “Is that why you don’t like Church so much?”

“I like Church.”

“We’re out here—”

He motions towards the churchyard, only a short stroll away. The evening sun has sunk down to hang at the bell-tower—haloeing the pointed roof like it were a saint itself. Soon, the world will turn from the calm, reddened gold of the sunset to the quiet, tranquil lilac of the melancholy time between day and night—twilight (not quite).

“—Missing the last of your father’s sermon,” Chanyeol finishes. He lingers on his feet for a second longer than he ever needed (as though he is unwelcome to sit, relax next to Baekhyun; or perhaps, it’s that he’s wary to) before awkwardly sinking down onto his knees (his pant legs will stain with dirt and moss) and then onto his haunches. He folds his gaingly legs over themselves, ends up cross-legged and tugging at the weeds left to grow wild beneath the tree root (where a lawnmower blade would catch and bend out of shape, and so will never tread).

“What does liking… or not liking Church have to do with my brother?” Baekhyun drawls. His gaze flicks from the innane weeding Chanyeol’s started at and flickers back to the churchyard. He probably won’t ever tell Chanyeol that Baekbeom’s grave sits in the cemetery sectioned off on the side—it’s one of those half-honesties, and he doesn’t like things that aren’t black and white (nevermind if he’s saying something fully-false, or fully-right).

“Everything’s about dying,” Chanyeol says bluntly. “How to live so you know where you’re going when you die. How to live—how to die.” His gaze slants toward Baekhyun, as though realizing the stark quality of the conversation. When Baekhyun’s expression betrays nothing (he’s long since mastered the calm, apathetic smile that covers all pleasantries): “Just figured it would make things uncomfortable.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” Baekhyun can see his jaw twitch. He wants the honest answer, and he thinks he’s not getting it. He isn’t, but he is. The truth is inarticulable. Baekhyun will not waste the words. He’s done so before, and it came out all-wrong, and he’d gotten lashed for it. “He died young.” I’m certain he went on to Heaven. He had all the sacraments he needed—wore his scapular. Yeah. Baekbeom hit the pearly gates, and went further.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun breathes out faint clouds of gravel-dust, sweats the stink of miasma, and cries bitter-salt. Hell’s haunting him. He was marked for it from the moment the monster came in the night, and has been running headfirst for it since he licked ecstacy from his fingertips (explorative, curious, debased).

“D’ya like him much?”

“He was my brother.”

“Yeah, but did you like him?”

“He tattled.”

“Not an answer.”

“Most days. I wanted to be him.”

“How much?”

He wanted to peel his skin off his bones and wear it like a coat; wanted to wind the muscles that make the chords and speak in a voice that wasn’t his own; wanted to have a body untouched by the Devil and sacred for it.

0 notes

devilboydogman · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter Two

Being a former member of the Yakuza didn’t really leave one with a lot of future employment opportunities. Especially since Yoshioka’s last (less than legal) job had been utterly shut down thanks to his new ghost friend, a bunch of kids, and that cute little blonde guy he’d met a few times since then. Yoshioka had also met his boyfriend/ employee. Honestly, the two guys were like little brothers to him. Well, ‘little’ wasn’t quite the right word for Serizawa Katsuya, but he was still a few years younger than Yoshioka, so the point still stood.

That being said, he had decided to avoid illegal activities if it could be helped, so he was now very legally employed at a grocery store. He thought two of the other employees looked kind of familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. Glasses guy was strict as hell, and muscles guy, despite seeming like he could nail glasses guy in the face, acted a bit like his bitch. Whatever.

A bell jangled, signally a customer was entering the store. Yoshioka was sweeping one of the aisles, and didn’t have a good view, but his dual mafia and security guard background had him instinctively on high alert, listening. It was a good thing the chunk missing from his ear hadn’t affected his hearing.

“Good afternoon, sir, welcome to—“ glasses guy cut himself off and made a choked, sputtering sound for some reason.

“Holy shit, is that—“ muscles guy was also inexplicably caught off guard.

“Um… Hi?” The customer sounded reasonably confused, and also weirdly familiar. Where had Yoshioka heard that (cute, charismatic, sexy) voice before?

Yoshioka was incredibly curious now. He slowly made his way towards the end of the aisle, under the guise of sweeping the floors in that direction. As he peeked around the corner, he could see glasses guy, but not the customer. His eye twitched in agitation. Very interesting.

“N-need any assistance… Sir?” He managed to choke out.

“If you could lead me to the pharmaceutical section, that’d be great. Specifically towards the first aid,” said the guy. Interesting. He needed guidance.

Muscles guy blurted, “Seriously, YOU need help? I get that you’re blind, but I’m pretty sure—“

“Oh. That’s where I know you two from,” the supposedly blind guy sounded more serious now.

And… The context clue of his disability, the familiarity of the voice… Oh shit.

Yoshioka fully stepped out of the aisle to confirm his suspicions. It really was the guy who’d given him the greatest sex he’d had in his life.

Glasses guy went pale. “So it is you. The feared Akuma ESPer.”

Murdock Matthew seemed amused, for some reason. “Is that would they called me? That’s kind of embarrassing, actually. Anyway, I’m literally just here to buy bandages, so if you could…?” and his head turned slowly towards Yoshioka’s direction. Damn Murdock and those senses of his. Great for fucking, bad for discretion.

Glasses guy also turned towards him. “Yoshioka-san, if you could assist this young gentleman?”

“Ah, hey Mamoru,” Murdock greeted, using his fucking given name of all things.

Glasses guy looked at Yoshioka quizzically. Yoshioka tried to pretend his cheeks weren’t burning. “Uhhh, hey there. Matt. Um. I’ll just…” and he awkwardly leaned the broom against a shelf and stepped towards Murdock. He approached faster than he’d liked, thanks to his ridiculously long legs. Well. Murdock had liked his legs.

The moment he was close enough, Murdock looped an arm around Yoshioka’s. The taller man looked down at Murdock’s face, and the bastard was smirking. He also had hella bruises and a split lip, but his eyes were covered by a pair of round, red-tinted shades.

With a grunt, Yoshioka tugged Murdock towards his desired aisle in the store. Once they were a bit further from glasses and muscles, Murdock began speaking quietly. “I’m almost surprised Koyama and Sakurai didn’t attempt to kill me on sight. They really must be trying to turn over a new leaf.”

“Haaah?” Yoshioka questioned, aware he may sound a bit stupid, “Why would they do that? I mean, they seemed scared of you, and it kinda sounded like they’ve seen you in, uh… Action, but…”

Murdock chuckled softly. “You seriously don’t recognize them as former members of the Upper Echelon from the Seventh Division?”

Yoshioka froze, jostling Murdock in the process. “Yer telling me… Oh my god. I’m so stupid.”

Murdock turned to him with a sympathetic expression. “In all fairness, I don’t believe they remember you, either.”

“Pssh… Why would they? I was just some security grunt,” he didn’t remember where Dimple had gone with his body, or who exactly he’d fought, but he couldn’t have left THAT much of an impression. He shook his head. “Anyway, what’s up with you? Ya look like a human punching bag.”

Murdock hummed. “The spirit that happened to have been possessing my client attacked me in the middle of the trial. If the legal secretary hadn’t called a pair of actual exorcists, who knows what would have happened.”

“Huh. A pair of ‘em, you said? Wouldn’t happen to be from Spirit’s n’ Such, would they?”

Murdock tilted his head, curious. “They were, actually.”

Yoshioka rose an eyebrow, then laughed. “Damn. So ya got to meet Serizawa and Taka-chan, huh? Those kids’re something else.”

“They’re both older than me. And you’re only, what, thirty-five? But yeah, they’re a good pair of guys. May I ask, though… ‘Taka-chan’? Really?”

Yoshioka snorted. “I’m thirty-seven, bud. And yeah, he hates when I call him that, but he’s adorable, so I can’t help it. And his boyfriend’s like a giant teddy bear. Dimple won’t admit it, but I think he agrees. But Dimple already has dibs on the name ‘Seri-chan’, so.”

Murdock actually snickered at that. “I met Dimple, too. How’d YOU meet them all, exactly?”

The ex-criminal scratched the back of his head. “Ehhh, well, basically… It was when Dimple, those kids, and Taka-chan stormed the Seventh Division base. I don’t remember… Any of it, actually, since Dimple was kinda, highjacking my body the whole damn time, but after that, we kinda got back in touch. I was mad at the damn fart cloud for makin’ me lose a chunk of my ear, but after that, we kinda started getting along, and now we sometimes… Share my body? It’s weird. Kind of a mutual benefit kinda thing. And when he decided to introduce me to Taka and that Kageyama kid, we sorta all became friends. But, lemme tell ya, when Serizawa came into the picture, I was worried. Dude looked like he could snap Taka-chan in half and exorcise Dimple in the same move, but uh… He’s actually just a really sweet, really awkward guy. And anyway, Taka-chan’s a surprisingly resilient little bastard. Glasses actually seems to respect the hell out of ‘im, too, whenever he happens to drop by the store. Which, knowing the context, now… Yeah. Taka probably beat his ass at one point, actually.”

“Reigen-san is very bold, I’ll have to agree.”

“That boy can talk his way out of his own execution, I’m pretty sure,” Yoshioka chuckled at the thought.

“Or just burst the enemy’s eardrums,” Murdock muttered, then huffed, a soft, amused sort of sound, and smiled. “Man, can that guy yell.”

“Ehhh, pretty sure he doesn’t even realize how loud he is half the time. YOU, on the other hand, could stand to speak up a bit now and then, ya know? Ah, we’re here. Anything yer lookin’ for in particular?”

“A few rolls of gauze, I think,” he flexed the fingers on the hand of the arm Yoshioka was holding. The knuckles were busted to hell and back. Yoshioka grimaced.

“Tch. A few, for sure. You really should take care not to damaged your own damn hands so much when you throw a punch, ya know? Don’t get me wrong, rugged’s a good look on you, but… You need to take care of yourself.”

Murdock nudged him, in a way meant to be playful but the damn boy’s arm muscles were bigger even than Yoshioka’s, despite the taller man having broader shoulders. He stumbled slightly as a result. “I think I’ll manage, Mamo,” he said.

They were doing nicknames, now? Yoshioka rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Matty.”

Murdock suddenly yanked his arm away and took a step back. His face was carefully blank. There was a crash from a short distance behind them, and a curse from Koyama. Yoshioka swore he heard the muscle man say something like, “Oh no, the newbie made the Devil angry, we’re so dead…”

“Are you scared, Koyama-san? I’m not going to kill anyone. You know I don’t do that sort of thing. Though…” He turned and faced the nervous-looking man, who could probably snap Murdock’s neck with one hand if he wanted to, but was currently sweating and standing stock-still. Murdock had quite the reputation, didn’t he? “I doubt a murdering child abuser would understand that.”

Right for the kill, God DAMN, boy! He might not end lives physically, but any other way seemed fair game when he was pissed.

Sakurai stood at Koyoma’s side. His stone-faced facade seemed to be cracking under the sightless gaze of Matthew. “Murdock-san, are you not the one always telling people about second chances? We’ve both moved away from those kinds of things.”

“I know. But a reminder every once in a while doesn’t hurt. And please mind your panic. I’m not about to start a fight in the fucking grocery store,” Murdock said, his voice was somehow quieter than usual, but also much harder. Maybe Yoshioka was also harder, but that was— “Yoshioka, I don’t think it’s healthy that this turns you on.”

Yoshioka, for his part, choked on air, and practically tripped over his own big feet as he quickly grabbed a few boxes of gauze rolls, shoved them in Murdock’s arms, and darted back to his workstation.

He ignored everything else going on until his shift was over.

***

The past five days have been exhausting for Matt. Monday had brought his client, a thirty-nine year-old Iraqi immigrant citizen of 15 years, Harun Barakat, accused of a murder he clearly (to Matt, anyway) hadn’t committed. The man’s wife had frantically reported that she’d witnessed her husband throw his brother-in-law across the room with ‘inhuman strength’ and had proceeded to use one of the knives laid out for dinner to slit the other man’s throat. She’d been adamant it couldn’t have actually been her husband in control. According to her, he’d appeared to move in unnatural ways, his eyes had been almost completely black, and he hadn’t seemed like the man she knew at all. He’d never been known to be an unreasonably angry man, and when he would express anger in the past, it’d been with healthy communication, or a raised voice, at most. She’d (correctly) insisted upon supernatural influence, and Barakat had been in control for long enough to request she find him a lawyer.

Matt, having a reputation amongst Seasoning’s legal circles as an attorney known to take ‘unusual’ or ‘hopeless’ defense cases, had predictably been appointed.

Things had been going well for the most part, besides episodes of the spirit regaining control while Matt was trying to gather information and form a defense for Barakat.

In all actuality, the spirit’s sudden act of violence during court had probably, in a roundabout way, won them the case. Thank goodness Yamato-san had thought to call in the exorcists. God bless that woman. She really was too good for him. And then Reigen and Serizawa had been kind enough to patch him up afterwards. Even if Reigen was a complete fraud and lied a whole damn lot, he seemed to be a genuinely good guy, and his lies never seemed malicious.

But the trip to Smile Mart on Thursday had fouled his mood a good bit. He understood that Yoshioka hadn’t MEANT to remind him of the horrific child abuse he’d suffered under the guise of tutelage, but a trigger was a trigger, and Matt had come close to flipping out on the ex-Claw members and getting his ass arrested or his head chopped off with the pair of clearly cursed tongs that Sakurai had been wielding.

And now, at this moment, 11:00 pm on Friday, he was in his combat clothing (consisting of a fitted, nylon, long-sleeved shirt, a pair of cargo pants, and combat boots, all advertised as the color black). He didn’t bother covering his face, as he spent almost all his daily life in shades and with his hair neatly combed; neither of which were the case now, as he slammed his fists into the face of an attempted rapist.

Sexual crimes were one of the most prevalent in Japan, while other types of crime were proudly reported to be of low occurrence. (Besides, more recently, psychic terrorism, but that could be a Seasoning City-specific phenomenon.)The would-be victim had been walking home on their own, tipsy, and they didn’t have much body mass to protect themselves with. The perp had simply grabbed them, pulled them into an empty, poorly-lit parking lot, and pushed them to the ground. Matt had been on the guy almost the moment he’d reached for the victim’s waist.

Matt could kind of sense the victim watching him near-by.

The perpetrator was finally out cold, and Matt got to his feet, panting heavily. He felt blood drip from his knuckles.

“Holy shit,” came the voice of the victim. It was a young, masculine voice, also very familiar— Wait. Matt tilted his head to the side, got a better read. Rapid heart rate, small stature, flat chest but no bottom surgery, lungs wheezing from the long-term affects of smoking.

“Hey,” Matt greeted softly. “You ok, Reigen?”

The man’s heart rate picked up at the sound of his name. “Y-yeah. Do I know… Oh. Holy fucking-“ he laughed, slightly hysterical. “Murdock, holy shit.”

“Are you concussed? Your head hit the pavement pretty hard back there.”

“Uhhh… Honestly, man, I can’t tell. Heheh. Holy fuck. I almost— Fuck. Thank you,” Reigen was breathless, and definitely still panicking. His heart and lungs were working over-time, and he seemed to sway a bit on his feet.

Murdock pursed his lips. “Would it be ok if I helped you stand? I can get you home safe, if you’d like. We can call Serizawa-san on our way.”

More shuddering, breathy laughter. “Y-yeah. That’d be. That’d be great, man. Hahaha.”

Matt nodded, hands visible in front of him as he slowly approached the trembling conman. Reigen made no move to get away, so he proceeded, holding out one of his hands to the smaller man, a silent request for consent to support him.

“Uh. Your hand is— Sorry. It’s just really bloody. Um. Well, whatever, this sweater is already ruined now anyway, heheh. So much for trying out pastel pink. Just thrifted it last week, and the first night I wear it out, it gets all damp and dirty and torn! What a waste, right? Hah…”

Matt allowed the poor guy to ramble and grab his boxer-built, battle trained bicep in one bony hand, his grip vice-like despite the apparent frailty of its structure. Matt knew how strong this man could be, even physically. Not every fighting style required muscle bulk for effective power. It was more a matter of directing your existing bodyweight, angling your fist correctly, and having technique. Though, correctly executed muscle development WAS good for endurance, and being a bit heavier made it harder for a larger opponent to smack you around. Matt had learned that the hard way. A scrawny eleven-year-old couldn’t exactly be a tank, after all. As soon as his body had been able to, after a growth spurt around age sixteen, Matt had started bulking. Being a child hadn’t even stopped grown adults from trying to kill someone of his skill. He’d accepted. Adapted. Hadn’t even realized how fucked up that was back then until he was himself an adult.

They slowly made their way to wherever Reigen decided he needed to go. The man seemed to slowly calm down the further they walked. His aimless monologuing seemed to be a form of self-soothing. Matt used his burner to leave an anonymous tip to the police about the unconscious creep. Neither of them called Serizawa on the way, but there seemed to have been no need, as Matt felt the other ESPer’s anxious aura humming as he stood on the steps that led up an apartment complex.

“Katsuya!” Reigen’s voice called out, loud and shrill, but Matt didn’t allow himself to be bothered by it. That aura barreled towards them, along with fast, heavy footfalls, and the lovers stood before one another.

“Taka, oh my god, are you ok? Where’ve you been? What happened to your clothes? Are you hurt? What—“

The larger man’s words were cut off with a sudden release of breath as Reigen’s body crashed into him, and the smaller man squeezed his lover around the middle with urgency. Matt had to take a step back as the intensity of Serizawa’s aura enveloped the two. It was warm, in several aspects, and smelled like steel and cotton and ozone and matcha. It made a sound almost like TV static and a distantly singing whale.

Matt tried to remember the last time he’d felt emotions like theirs in himself. Perhaps in college, briefly. Though, his and Elektra’s passion had been rapid and intense, nothing as sweet and lasting as with these two. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say it hadn’t been like this for him since his father was murdered.

Suddenly, something dangerous spiked in Serizawa’s aura. “Taka, who’s this? And why is he covered in blood? Did he do this to you?”

“N-no, that’s Murdock-san, remember? He, um, lended me a hand. In-in taking the other guy down. And I wouldn’t say he’s COVERED in blood, ‘Tsuya, don’t be silly!”

Matt couldn’t see, but he could swear he felt the intensity of Serizawa’s gaze on him. “What happened, exactly?”

An uptick in Reigen’s heart rate. “I-I almost got mugged? The guy roughed me up a bit, that’s all! And then Murdock came along, and helped me out! You know how I don’t like violence all that much, haha!”

So the conman tended to lie to his lover, too. Well… Matt didn’t exactly blame him for this lie. Sexual assault was not easy to talk about, ever, to anyone.

Serizawa, for his part… Seemed to understand. The need to not talk about it, if not the reason, at least. The ruffling sound of skin brushing through slightly corse, vaguely bleach-scented hair indicated the man was stroking his smaller lover’s head. “It’s OK, Taka. Let me take care of you, alright? Um… M-Murdock-san, are… Are you ok? Do you need anything?”

Matt was actually surprised at the question. “What?”

The other ESPer’s voice was laced with concern. “You were just in a fight, you could be hurt.”

“I’ve… Had a lot worse.”

“That doesn’t make us feel better,” they both responded in unison.

“Is this… A common thing for you?” Serizawa asked hesitantly.

Matt considered lying. He knew that’d be utterly futile, considering what he’d already revealed about his run-ins with Claw and the fact that they’d seen his scars, and were now seeing him in an outfit that could only have been specially chosen for fighting. A heavily-used one, at that. He took a deep breath. His still-healing ribs ached. “You could say that.”

“…How about we all go inside.” Serizawa said. It really wasn’t a request.

***

Serizawa studied the two younger men on his couch. His boyfriend: hair disheveled, new (used) sweater dirty, stretched, and torn in a few places, knees and hands scraped, and practically vibrating with anxiety. Whatever crime had actually occurred, or almost occurred, had shaken him. Knowing the kinds of things that Reigen Arataka had previously shrugged off as if they were no more than an inconvenience in the past, that concerned Serizawa oh so greatly.

And Murdock: stony faced besides a slight furrow in his brow, face and neck bruised, hair equally disheveled as the blonde’s beside him, and knuckles freshly bloodied where they sat still but tense on his lap. Not to mention the frankly militant get-up he was wearing. (If Serizawa had been more observant in his past ‘employment’, he’d recognize a lot of things about Murdock that painted him a man raised to be a soldier, or perhaps just a boy raised to be a man far too early.)

“…Ok,” Serizawa managed after a long silence and a deep sigh. “You don’t have to tell me what happened right now, but I would like you both to tell me if and where you’re injured, and how I can help, and maybe we can all help each other. Sound good?”

“Yes sir,” Murdock’s quiet but immediate affirmative made something horrible in Serizawa’s gut squirm. Reigen’s wide, wary eyes flickered to the man beside him, then flickered away. He wasn’t making eye contact, which was just out of character enough to be worrisome.

“Th-that… That wasn’t an order, but… Thank you. And you’re allowed to say no…”

Murdock made no movement or expression that indicated any opinion on the matter, so Serizawa dropped it.

“Um… I don’t think I’m really injured anywhere…?” Reigen said, unusually quiet and unsure.

Serizawa smiled gently at the smaller man. “We can at least get you cleaned up then, love. I’m sure you’d feel a lot better after a shower and getting into your favorite pajamas.”

“Shower. Yes,” his Arataka’s voice shouldn’t ever sound so hollow. It hurt so bad. What had HAPPENED? Why hadn’t Serizawa BEEN there?

“Hey,” Murdock sounded stern, but gentle. “Don’t.”

Serizawa was really confused. What was he talking about? “I don’t…”

“You’re starting to panic. Your heart rate just picked up a lot. Breathe. The mind controls the body, ok?”

Such a strange thing to say… But probably decent advice, if only Serizawa was willing to take it. But he wasn’t, and right now, his anxiety was flowing out into the room. As his chest rose, as did several objects around the room.

Murdock tensed, and it made Serizawa feel WORSE, because now he was scared of him, and what if he lost further control and hurt him? Or, God forbid, hurt REIGEN?

“Katsuya, come here,” Arataka said. Gentle, calm, ridiculously unafraid of him. Serizawa squeezed his eyes shut. His breath increased in speed and decreased in depth.

When slight arms wrapped around him again, he felt like a slowly, safely deflating balloon. His energy ebbed like a calmly receding tide, and he was vaguely aware of objects gently settling back to the ground. The tight pressure of Reigen’s arms grounded him like nothing else ever could, not even that umbrella. Reigen’s protection wasn’t imprisonment, like His Room, or a temporary crutch, like the umbrella. Taka was real, and he felt good, and he felt like real support, because he WAS. Taka was Safe. He was Home. Reigen Arataka may have been physically small, but he was so much larger than life.

Serizawa wrapped his own arms around Reigen, his hands simply absorbing the feeling of him: Somewhat petite, and slender, but solid and never fragile. Alive. His fingers trailed over where he knew the younger man’s long, diagonal scar was along his back, a testament to Reigen Arataka’s utter audacity and the affect it had on everyone he met, for better or for worse.

“You’re a good man, ‘Tsuya,” Taka whispered against his chest.

“So are you, Taka…”

****

Reigen allowed his mind and body to focus solely on Serizawa. They were still wrapped in each other’s arms, and Reigen knew that though this embrace was meant to comfort his lover, it was also partly for himself. He would not think about what had almost just occurred (again), in some dark fucking parking lot at nearly midnight (not some boy’s bedroom this time), by a complete stranger (not his first boyfriend, before he knew what men so often expected out of their teenaged, feminine-bodied dates). He would not. He would not.

Fuck, Reigen was a liar, even to himself.

He squeezed Serizawa even tighter, assuring himself that he, his first REAL lover, had never even suggested or attempted taking what that boy had taken without even asking. Serizawa didn’t want it either. Neither of them wanted that.

“Shit.”

Reigen flinched, and Serizawa’s grip tightened protectively around him. Murdock had been so quiet, Reigen had almost forgotten the poor guy was even there.

“…Is something wrong, Murdock-san?” His lover asked, anxiety in his voice.

“Yes.”

And then Murdock did a fucking backflip just to kick some projectile out of its trajectory and landed on his feet in a crouch on the sofa. Serizawa’s barrier was up in an instant.

Reigen blinked at the arrow on the ground. It had been headed towards Serizawa’s chest.

“Feckin arse,” Murdock muttered, whatever that meant.

“Who the fuck is shooting at us with a bow and arrow?! And from where?!” Reigen practically screeched. He felt this situation called for some screeching.

“The hell do you want, old man?” Murdock asked.

Reigen was about to ask who the hell Murdock thought he was calling ‘old man’ when an actual old man’s voice came from… Somewhere? “You know what I want, kid.” What the actual hell.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my fucking apartment?!” Reigen demanded.

“Reigen, don’t, he’s—“

“You fucking kids are so damn entitled,” said the surly old voice of a tall, lean, gray old man who stepped in from the balcony door, a large bow gripped casually in his hand.

“I’m not a KID, you old fucking geezer—“

“Reigen, for FUCK’S sake.” Hearing Murdock shout was jarring enough to make Reigen clamp his mouth shut.

“Ornery little bitch, huh?”

“Do not call him that,” Serizawa said, his tone low and even. Which meant Danger for the old geezer. Hopefully.

“Tch. I know you’re itching to hurl those overpowered psychic blasts at me, boy. Why don’t you go ahead and try?”

“Stick, STOP. Whatever you’re doing this time, it, it doesn’t NEED to involve these two. Ok?” Murdock sounded all at once angry, frightened, and defeated. Reigen narrowed his eyes to squint at the old man. The bastard absolutely had ‘I’m an asshole’ written on his forehead. What exactly was his history with Murdock? They seem to have known one another for quite a long time, which was concerning due to the hostility and especially the… Age difference.

Reigen decided some delicacy was required in this situation. And Reigen was good with words, and could certainly take things delicately if he actually tried. He sighed, made a show of shaking his head. “Sir, if you’d please leave before I call the police?” He whipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and flipped it open with a flourish.

The old man just snorted, an ugly sneer on his face. “That’s not gonna happen, kid.” When his face touched moonlight as it turned more towards Reigen, he noticed his eyes were an unfocused, even cloudier blue than Murdock’s.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. See— Ah, sorry, I realize that may be an insensitive word choice— I happen to be an ESPer myself as well, and I’d hate to have to resort to using force. I’m sure a man such as yourself has to take into account unseen dangers, correct? So… Calmly tell us what you came here for. I’d hate to have to hurt you with my—“

“You can’t con your way into making me compliant, little girl.”

Reigen dropped his phone.

He resisted the urge to fly at this geezer with swinging fists. Took a deep breath. “Ah!” He said instead, his usual gesturing slightly more aggressive. “Is that supposed to be an insult? Because I happen to know a young girl who could probably take over the world by willpower alone! Don’t tell me you’re a MISOGYNIST?!”

That got an amused huff from Murdock, at least.

“It ain’t an insult. I’m talking about how you literally have a vagina.”

Reigen felt his heart drop all the way to his unwanted uterus. His only external reaction was a slight eye twitch. “What are you on about, old man? Even if I DID have one, how the hell would you even know?”

“Same way I’m sure Matty has known since he met you.”

Murdock’s shoulders tensed visibly in a way that made Reigen’s guys twist in discomfort. “The hell does that mean? Can… Murdock, with your senses, can you…?”

“Reigen-san, please don’t indulge Stick. He’s a horrible man with zero boundaries. Stick, if you give unsolicited comments on a person’s body again, I WILL beat your old ass.”

Oh my god oh no what Murdock could sense THAT FUCKING MUCH ABOUT PEOPLE? That had to be illegal. What the hell. Reigen shuddered violently, as if a colony of cockroaches were crawling under his—

And he hurled, all over the floor, the very moment he imagined that. To be honest, everything about this night had him feeling nauseous and disgusted, including the alcohol he’d consumed BEFORE the night devolved into absolute atrocity.

As he emptied his stomach, and continued to tremble and dry heave crouched to the ground, he thought maybe things were happening around him, but the sound of what may have been shouting was muffled as if he was underwater, his own beating heart and blood rushing in his ears like a horrible white noise in the background of his awareness. His mind was void of coherent thought; Any mental noise was just internal screaming or a jumble of anxieties that he couldn’t differentiate.

Eventually, his hyperventilation and too-rapid heart rate took his consciousness completely.

***

Matt was not against hitting people who deserved it. Not in the slightest. Not even if the person was literally geriatric and completely blind. The way Stick had made Reigen react made Matt sick, especially after what had almost happened to the smaller man earlier tonight.

And so when Reigen passed out completely from his own sheer panic, Matthew wasted no time in moving to smack the hell out of the shriveled dick face.

After all, Stick had had no qualms beating Matt when he’d literally been a disabled prepubescent child with no family. Maybe Matt was finally big enough to beat him in a fight.

Stick, predictably, had predicted Matt’s outburst, and made to simply sidestep the younger man’s fist. Like usual. But this time, a hot, staticky energy bound the old man in place. Matt could sense Serizawa’s outstretched hand from somewhere behind him. So Matt pivoted slightly and swept out his leg to land a solid kick to Sticks gut. The old man wheezed. The wheezed turned into a laugh.

“You really have gone soft, boy. Protecting the honor of some brat you barely know. You really haven’t learned a DAMN thing, have you? Actually, I think you might be worse from when you were just a pint-sized punk—“ he coughed, as the psychic bindings around him tightened.

“Get. Out,” it was Serizawa who ground out a response. And he did not allow Stick to have any day in the matter, as Matt became aware of Stick hovering out the balcony door and over the edge. Dangling aloft the street below.

“W-wait…!” Matt panicked briefly. “Don’t kill him.”

Serizawa was standing closer behind Matt now. “I won’t, just… He needs to— I don’t— Did he…? I’m sorry. This isn’t my business…” the larger man’s heart pounded as he psychically brought the old man back onto the solid ground of the balcony. He still kept him restrained, though.

“Can we fuckin’ talk properly now, kiddos?” Stick snarled, derisive and snide as ever.

Matt strutted over to him and crouched down to where Stick was now seated on the concrete balcony against the railing, despite neither of them needing to be closer to hear or see one another. “First of all, shishou,” he spat the title like it tasted bad, “none of us are children. We are all grown men, and no matter how much younger than you we seem to be, if you don’t start respecting that, I will find a maximum security nursing home just for you. Second— DON’T interrupt me, I heard you open your damn mouth. SECOND of all, I don’t want a single thing to do with you OR the Chaste. Not. Any. More. And I DEFINITELY don’t want you dragging uninvolved people into your made-up war. So, I’ll be generous enough to give you a choice, not that you EVER offered that to me. Either leave, right now, and never bother me OR any of these people again, or I’ll break all of your limbs so fucking irreparably that you won’t be able to lay a single hand on anyone, ever again. Got it?”

He felt Stick taking stock of the sincerity of Matt’s words. The old man released a breath. Slightly amused, slightly… Fond. “I got it, kid. I’ll go.”

It was Matt’s turn for judgment. He nodded, satisfied, and straighten up to his full height. “Serizawa-san, you can let him go, now. He won’t be coming back.”

Serizawa seemed hesitant the short distance behind him. “Um… Ok.”

A fair amount of staticky pressure was released from the atmosphere as the psychic bindings loosened. Stick stood up, stretched, made his way to the fire escape to the right of the balcony. He paused briefly before leaving. “Ya know, Matty… I think in some ways, your old man would be proud to see you now. Maybe I am, too.”

And he went.

***

Serizawa watched, a bit numb, as Murdock stood with his back to him on the balcony, so still that he may have been a statue if not for the subtle expansion and retraction of the muscles in his back as he breathed, slowly, evenly, in and out. Murdock then turned towards Serizawa and the door. His expression was eerily blank, and his unfocused eyes made his expression almost dead.

His voice lacked inflection when he spoke. “We need to check on Reigen.”

“Yes, of course.” They returned inside the apartment together. Serizawa immediately went to where he’d laid Reigen on the couch after he’d passed out. He’d done his best to wipe the younger man’s own vomit off his face with a throw blanket, but as he crouched beside him to lay a hand on his head, he sighed sympathetically at the sight of traces of it in spots around his face. Poor Arataka had practically face-planted into his own mess, after all. Usually Serizawa was either endeared or annoyed by how sloppy his lover could be, but this just made him feel incredibly sad. Reigen was pale, and appeared tired despite being unconscious, the skin beneath his eyes dark and creased more than usual. His hair was now practically a bird’s nest, as well as a bit greasy to the touch as Serizawa ran a hand through it in an attempt to sooth his lover as he shivered and whimpered slightly in his sleep.

“…I’m sorry.”

Serizawa startled at the sound of Murdock’s voice. The man still lingered just inside the balcony door, now closed. His body language and facial expression were difficult to read.

“Um… Why?”

“If I hadn’t come in here, Stick wouldn’t have…”

Well, yes, that went without saying, but it still wasn’t exactly Murdock’s fault. The young man couldn’t be responsible for the words and actions of a man who very likely had done horrible things, to Murdock in particular, if their interactions were anything to go by. And likely at a horribly young age.

Katsuya has been a grown man, 27 years old, when Suzuki had been able to manipulate him. From the sounds of it, this ‘Stick’ guy has been causing pain for Murdock likely since childhood.

Murdock had, albeit disdainfully, called the man his ‘shishou’. Clearly this relationship was nothing like between Reigen and Shigeo. Nothing at all. Sure, Reigen was a liar, still was, but he had only ever tried to protect and mentor Shigeo when the boy had walked into his life, all of 10 years old. Serizawa had seen those memories, after all. Children deserved to be protected. Period.

Serizawa had been stupid not to realize that when he’d stood by as Shou-kun was mistreated by the Pre— Suzuki. The boy’s own father. “Murdock-san,” Serizawa began, in lieu of acknowledging the needless apology. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?”

“I— Oh, Reigen’s waking up.”

Serizawa blinked at the sudden statement, briefly thinking it was a convenient change in subject, but looked down at Reigen, who was indeed gasping quietly awake under his hand. His brown eyes shot open, wide and frightened, before focusing in on Serizawa, and his head relaxed under the larger man’s gentle palm, which combed soothingly through his hair. “Hey, Taka,” he greeted, very softly.

“…Hi.” Reigen’s own voice, so uncharacteristically quiet and uncertain, told Serizawa all he needed to know.

“That horrible guy is gone now, love. Murdock-san chased him away,” Serizawa assured.

Reigen gingerly got his arms beneath him and pushed himself up to sit. He was wrapped in a non-vomit-soiled blanket, and, with his head sticking out and his hair attempting a hedgehog cosplay, he resembled a sleepy kid rather than a 29-year-old man emerging from a panic attack. He blinked blearily at Katsuya, then turned his head to look over the back of the couch at Murdock. He mumbled something Serizawa couldn’t quite make out.

Murdock heard it, apparently, and whatever is was made his lip quirk up slightly at one corner. “Ah, well, I was raised as a shrine keeper, but I wouldn’t call myself a guardian of any sort…”

“Mm… A guard dog, then.”

“Reigen Arataka!”

Murdock chuckled softly, not seeming offended by Reigen comparing him to a canine. “I guess that’s not too far off. I mean, I’ve got the nose for it,” his nose scrunches slightly. “Speaking of. Let me help you clean up. I’m sure Reigen would like a shower in the meantime?”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you. Reigen, do you want a shower?”

“Definitely. I feel like shit.” He slowly extricated himself from the blanket and stood upon shaky legs. He gave Serizawa a pat on the shoulder and a thumbs up, then shuffled over to their bedroom. Serizawa stood there for a moment, listened to the sounds of Reigen opening their dresser drawers, opening and shutting the bathroom door, the shower sputtering to life, water hitting the linoleum walls of their tiny shower stall.

Serizawa and Murdock got to work cleaning the mess. Serizawa used his powers to float the dirtied throw blanket into a garbage bag to take to the apartment building’s laundry room. He’d add Reigen’s jeans, socks, and boxers to the bag once he was done in the shower. His sweater, unfortunately, was likely unsalvageable. Murdock filled a bucket with soapy water. Serizawa once again used his powers to remove the bulk of the vomit from the floor and disposed of it. They took turns scrubbing the stained carpet. Serizawa spent more time scrubbing than Murdock; Lord knew the smell was worse for the blind ESPer, and the younger man couldn’t exactly see if the color of the carpet was returning to normal.

Once the task was finished, Serizawa offered Murdock tea and perhaps something to eat. He accepted the tea. They stood together in the kitchen as the tea brewed.

Serizawa fiddled nervously with the hem of his shirt and glanced at Murdock, who leaned wearily against the counter, arms crossed. “Can I… Ask you about something?”

Murdock’s expression remained neutral. “I suppose that depends on the question.”

The larger ESPer flushed. “Right, of course. Um. About your powers… Um… what exactly is the extent? And… And how well can you control them?”

Murdock took a deep breath, and tilted his head away, and slightly downwards. “Well. To be honest, the extent to which my existing senses are heightened is… Almost absurd. Like a constant state of sensory overload. I can hear the water in the pipes, the electrical currents in the walls, a conversation in a room two floors below us. Heartbeats. I can taste wether or not someone washed their hands before handling my food. I can smell when someone’s cortisol levels kick up when they’re afraid. Stepping foot in a hospital is like being inside an open grave drenched in antiseptic and bodily fluids. And I can’t turn it off, but I’ve learned to choose what to focus on. I’ve been told it’s… Invasive. But I can’t exactly help it. My senses are how I navigate the world. How I survive. How I fight. Sensing the movement of air when someone swings a fist from behind me. Assessing someone’s physical condition. Making sure I… Don’t go too far. I’d never forgive myself if I ended a life.”

Serizawa stood, absorbing the information. “I… I can’t even imagine. I mean… I get sensory overload, being on the spectrum, but… That’s… Wow. You said you were awakened, right? Can I ask… What age? And how?”

“I was nine,” Serizawa’s breath hitched, “An older man was about to be struck by an oncoming vehicle. I pushed him out of the way. He survived. I emerged completely blinded. Woke up, panicking in the hospital unable to see but able to… SEE so much more than I ever wanted to. S’pose that’s another reason I’m not fond of hospitals. My dad helped me through it, kept my spirits up, kept me motivated to do well in school, to grow up right… At least until he was murdered. I… Don’t want to talk about what happened after that, sorry.”

Serizawa had no idea what to say. All that before Murdock was even out of elementary school… Jesus. And apparently the stuff AFTER that was too hard to even TALK about. Serizawa had an obscure idea of who might have been involved, though. What COULD you say to someone who went through that? There really were no words. This was a man who had dragged his own broken body off the jagged ground after falling off the peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and was actively climbing back up. And one had to wonder why he bothered. The problem with seeing someone’s trauma recovery as inspirational is that you tended overlook the fact that none of that should ever have happened in the first place, and the survivor shouldn’t owe it to the world to keep fighting, shouldn’t have to be considered brave just for continuing to exist.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Well, not really.

Sure, you maybe learn something. But it mostly makes you tired and fearful and in so much fucking pain.

The kettle screamed. Too much pressure. Serizawa took it off the heat.

***

Reigen didn’t exactly make a habit out of dramatically gazing at his own reflection. But tonight had been bad enough to warrant a dramatic face-off with himself in the still slightly-foggy bathroom mirror after his shower. Even wet, he could tell the darker roots of his hair were growing in, and it would soon be time to re-dye. His bangs were getting a bit long. The slight flush on his cheeks from the steamy heat of the bathroom only served to make him look paler. Hm. The lines and dark circles beneath his eyes seemed only to be getting more pronounced. Perhaps he was aging. Or just tired.

Probably both.

Despite eating regularly, he STILL didn’t seem to be gaining any weight. He stared blankly at his collarbones, his shoulders, his ribs. He wished he couldn’t see them as well as he could. Shouldn’t he have grown out of his overactive metabolism by now? Shouldn’t that change as he aged?

Top surgery scars were still there. He very rarely had to double check that he no longer had tits, but it did happen. There were also a smattering of smaller, fainter scars across his body, from various exorcism-related incidents and mundane accidents alike. Reigen Arataka was not always the most graceful man in existence. He knew if he could see his back, he’d also see his biggest scar; given to him BY a Scar. And if he pushed his bangs up from his forehead he’d see the scar from when Mob’s powers had flung a rock at him. He still got migraines from the aftermath of that particular concussion.

There was a ring of bruises around his left wrist he didn’t want to think about. He could also certainly feel bruises on his back, his shoulder blades. The back of his head was tender. His palms had been scraped up by the asphalt, and they still stung. As did his knees, but he didn’t particularly feel like looking downwards today.

His wrists and knee joints have been oddly sore and stiff lately, and it seemed no matter how well he self-massaged them or how often took a pain reliever, the pain came back, in various degrees.

He was too young for arthritis, right? Then again, his body had been through the absolute ringer lately, between Mob’s incident, daily ‘Physical Exorcisms’, and the whole thing with Rusty and the Mimic. Perhaps his joints had had enough and were forcing a chronic condition upon him as Karmic payback.

His stomach clenched in complaint of having been violently emptied. God, he could go for a cup of instant ramen right now. But not before brushing his teeth. His mouth still tasted vile.

After doing so, he pulled on a clean pair of boxers (pink with red hearts, as if straight out of an American cartoon, a gift from Katsuya for Valentine’s Day earlier that year), a pair of drawstring sweatpants, and the softest sweatshirt of Katsuya’s he’d been able to find. He very much drowned in it, but it was warm and it smelled like him. Made him feel safe.

As he breathed deeply, he shuffled back out of the bedroom and blinked tiredly at his boyfriend and Murdock, both in the kitchen. They’d obviously tidied up, and it made a twinge of simultaneous guilt and gratitude well up in his chest. Murdock nudged Katsuya, who looked up from his task of stirring tea and back at Reigen. A huge smile broke out across his face, his eyes wet in almost an instant. He was across the room in no time, his strong arms wrapped around Reigen, firm but not crushing. “Hey, Taka…” he mumbled against the top of his head. Reigen returned the hug, as tight as his much more wiry arms could manage, hands fisted into the fabric of the sweatshirt over Katsuya’s back.

Reigen mumbled about instant ramen into his broad chest. Serizawa carefully used his own hand to extract his his face from there. “What was that?”

“‘M hungry. I want ramen.”

Serizawa snorted, amused and fond. “Of course. I’ll start some for you.”

Reigen’s hands briefly lingered over his lover’s arms as the taller man stepped back, a reassuring smile aimed down at him from a kind, mature face. Reigen never necessarily experienced sexual attraction, at least not in the way allosexuals would describe, but he did feel an excitement in his chest and a burning in his veins that gave him a sort of sensual urge, just to touch. Katsuya was very nice to touch, after all. Both of them reveled in physical pressure from one another’s bodies when they touched, a sensory experience mixed with romantic affection that was more intoxicating than any other vice. Romantic affection was also a bit hard for Reigen to come by, really he only felt it long into a strong, lasting friendship, but that is what he had found with Katsuya.

As the elder ESPer in the room got busy with the ever so complex task of preparing cup ramen, Reigen’s attention wavered to their new acquaintance. He’d been a bit too hazy with panic earlier to notice, but now that he had the mental capacity to process Murdock’s utterly unfair musculature highlighted by his frankly absurdly form-fitting black shirt, he felt a pang of gender envy. The man had SHOULDERS. And BICEPS. And god, he had THIGHS. And though he didn’t exactly fit the ‘body-builder’ description, as not every individual muscle bulged in all their veiny, dehydrated glory, he appeared truly athletic and strong, varyingly lithe and bulky in healthy distribution, with the slightest layer of soft flesh overtop; which, overall, was admittedly more appealing than the former. His torso tapered at the waist and into narrow hips in that inverted-v shape Reigen had always longed for in himself, but had never had the time nor mental capacity (read: attention span) to pursue with any amount of commitment. Hormone injections could only do so much for a naturally shrimpy office worker of barely average height, after all. He’d pretty much given up on his workout regimen after it had more or less served its purpose during Mob’s Incident. His muscles had been horribly strained, torn even, for weeks, after that endeavor. They’d almost atrophied smaller than before from UNDERuse because of the pain, actually.

Christ, Dimple had been right. Reigen was going to die a horrible (early) death. Not even his ridiculous luck could last forever. Reigen considered himself a relatively resilient man, but there was only so much chronic bodily pain he could ignore. His 30th birthday will be an accomplishment, however pathetic that reality was.

Shit, he’d been staring blankly at Murdock’s left pec for… A time. Did the guy even notice? He hoped not. He did not want to be taken for a creep. He blinked, shook his head like a wet dog. He chanced a glance at Murdock’s face. His eyes were closed, not that that meant much for a man whose eyes didn’t work in the first place. He closed his eyes a lot, actually. Perhaps someone had told him his sightless eyes were unsettling and he’d taken that to heart and deigned to keep them closed around others. Which, Reigen understood that desire to change for the approval of others, in a way, but that would still be kind of fucked up. If such a person existed and had said such a thing, Reigen would find them and lecture them about… Something. Probably go on so long and so loud that they changed their ways simply to avoid further annoyance. Reigen was good at annoying people. He did it on purpose, sometimes. Turning his insecurities into advantages was good for business, and also for prolonging his life in hazardous situations. He WEAPONIZED his insecurities, actually. And it usually worked.

The only times it hadn’t could be counted on approximately two fingers: Both times, Mob had been there. First as witness, second as intended victim. He shuddered at the thought of having projected his own insecurities at Mob in an attempt to cling to the middle schooler who dared to grow better than his 27-year-old fraud of a mentor whose only true achievement was ‘loneliest fucking loser of the 21st century, liar extraordinaire’. His 28th birthday had been, in all honesty, worse than his 17th, and that, in his opinion, was saying QUITE A LOT. Happy two years before 30th Birthday, Arataka! As a gift for being such a horrible person, here are several tangible reminders of how much of a disappointment you are to yourself and everyone around you! Yay! Celebrate by having a drink and puking your guts out, kid. You’ve earned it.

Reigen blinked himself out of his own headspace, because wow, holy SHIT, his thoughts hadn’t been that self deprecating for a long time.

Anyways.

“‘Taka.”

Reigen blinked and jerked his head towards Katsuya, who was now holding a bowl of hot ramen in his hands, a fondly knowing look on his face.

“AH! Thank you, Katsuya! Must’ve spaced out a bit, you know me. Thank you.” He reached out to take the bowl from his lover, smiling gratefully at him. Once the bowl was secure in his hands, and shuffled tiredly to their tiny dinner table, sat the bowl down, and practically fell into one of their wooden dining chairs. A pair of chopsticks handed to him later, and he was devouring his noodles with the voracity of the starving man he felt like.

Quickly, Reigen finished his food, and he simply sat there, his eyes drooping with lethargy.

“I suppose I’d better go…” Murdock said after some time. Reigen looked over at him with bleary eyes. The man had already drifted towards the front door.

“We don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be, but, Murdock-san….” Katsuya seemed hesitant, concerned. “Will you be ok?”

“Yes. Thank you. I— Sorry. I shouldn’t have— Sorry. Good bye. I’m glad you two are safe.”

Reigen watched numbly as Murdock exited, the apartment door shutting softly behind him.

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jamesvanriemsdyk · 3 years ago

Note

"the nhl hates the canes and i can tell you why" i'd love it if you did tell us why please! i've noticed it but idk the reason!

(ajr voice) here we go

basically its like, half tin hatting and half actual real evidence based theory, but the nhl hates the canes because the canes fuck up the nhl's entire image: this insane little "good canadian boy" "works hard, is humble" image that theyve bet every cent of money on being marketable. and it just.......isnt. its just not. new fans, young fans (who are queer, who are women, who are poc) dont give a shit about the old boys club that runs the nhl. gary bettman has no idea how to market to us and frankly he'd rather not, because if we focus on the Old Time Hockey brand, we dont have to jump into the 21st century with things like player safety and inclusion (and so, therefore, marketing).

the canes dont give a fuck about that. theyre fun, they love to win, theyre loud as fuck about it, and theyre TOO GOOD. itd be one thing if they were last in the league, the nhl and hockey culture in general wouldnt have a problem with storm surges etc if it was a last place team's effort to keep their spirits up. but the canes are a top three team in the ENTIRE LEAGUE, and them taking pride in their wins, their social media marketing to younger fans and being unapologetic about things like boosting pride nights - that shit is so far out of the realm of acceptable for bettman's nhl it makes me LAUGH.

i also need yall to think about the SAT line real quick. sebastian aho is exactly the kind of player that will move this game forward: smaller, faster, more skilled, smart smart SMART on the puck, a real genuine student of the game, and so he is a threat to Old Time Hockey. teravainen is too, in much the same way. andrei svechnikov is, for all it wouldnt seem just based on penalty stats this year, a very physical but very CLEAN player, who also happens to be a second overall pick and a damn hard worker and incredibly skilled player to boot. they are the canes' Big Boy Line, so to speak, and not one of them is canadian (and YES, that matters, the nhl is incredibly xenophobic - this is the culture that allowed don cherry to get on NATIONAL TELEVISION for forty years and spout the same racist, misogynistic, xenophobic bullshit before finally firing him after years of the fans calling for it. if you dont know what cherry's said about europeans and russians, look it up. or dont, because its bad and it will piss you off).

the canes also made homes for players dougie hamilton and brady skjei, who were both written off and at least implied they were unhappy in their former organizations. the canes also have a stunningly good head coach in brindamour - ive talked about this before, and if you watch the canes you see it, but yall, brindamour is THE carolina hurricane, and he loves his players and takes care of and stands up for them. hes measured and fair with them, and he is a good coach. that matters here because this sport's culture is rotten to its goddamn core, and nhl ownership doesnt quite know what to do with a locker room based in REAL trust and loyalty, from the coach to the staff to the players and back.

i guess all of this is to say that the canes and their entire culture - a (seemingly) healthy sports culture, i know, crazy - are the antithesis of everything the nhl's management and ownership want for the sport, and they represent the only survivable way forward, and the nhl hates them for it.

#canes lb #just gonna stick this in there in case anyone was interested #this got real long lmao #anon #answered #anyway you see shades of this in the leafs as well and you have since shanahan and dubas really took over but its not as like. fully formed #as it is with the canes #and the nhl cant do much to the leafs anyway lol theyre the second biggest franchise in the entire show #and arguably the one with the biggest and most reliable fanbase

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jeyramarie · 3 years ago

Text

Stood up- JJ Maybank x Reader

summary: You and JJ have a date planned but apparently other things were urgent.

wc: 1,256

warning: cursing, angst

a/n: this is my entry for the writing challenge 😁 @ilovefandoms102 i hope it’s good 🥺 congrats on 2k hun! i love you so so much, you deserve it all ❤️

The doorbell rang as I walked into the Wreck to begin my shift. I had worked there since freshman year of high school, when I met Kie. And you may be wondering, does that mean you’re a kook, Y/n? Yes, I’m a kook but just like Kiara, I connect more with the pogues. They’re nicer to me anyway.

“Sup, Y/n!” Kie said as I walked into the restaurant.

“Hey, girlie. How you doing?” I smiled as I made my way around the counter to hug her.

“I’m good, how ’bout you?”

“I’m okay, a bit tired but it’s fine.”

“You spent all night talking to JJ again?” She smirked, making me blush as I put my stuff away.

“Yeah… I'm just waiting for him to ask me out already.”

“He’s gonna ask you out, trust me.”

I began to work, taking orders and cleaning tables. The shift was half way done when Pope and JJ walked in making Kiara leave what she was doing to say hi to them. I stayed cleaning out a table while looking at JJ. He looked so good, as usual. I didn’t turn around in case that looked desperate so I just waited for him to come to me. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder and I thought it was a client so I turned and gasped. It was JJ.

“Hey.”

“Hey, J. How are you?”

“I’m good, now better that I'm seeing you.” He smirked, causing me to blush and look to the ground.

“Very funny, Maybank.” I said and walked past him to behind the counter. He followed and leaned against it, wanting to continue the conversation.

“I wanted to ask you something actually.”

“Yes?” I asked leaning closer to him.

“I was just um… I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date.. tonight..” JJ asked, scratching the back of his head. I smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear before looking at him.

“I would love to, where do you wanna go?”

“Oh really? Um.. how bout the movies?”

“Yes, of course. We’ll meet there?” I said as I opened the cash register to give a client back their change.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll see you there.” He smirked as Pope called out for him to walk out. We both looked at him and back at each other with a small smile and blush on both our cheeks.

“I’ll see you tonight, babe.” and with that he walked outside with Kiara and Pope, leaving me a blushing mess.

That night I wanted to go all out. I wore some ripped jeans, a baby tee and my vans. My makeup was pretty simple and my hair too. JJ had texted me during the day that the movie was at 8. Of course, I wanted to be punctual so I was already there at 7:45. I stayed outside, standing on the sidewalk waiting to see his bike or his dad’s pickup truck.

The watch read 8:30 and JJ still wasn’t here. A cold breeze tan through my clothes making me hug myself, trying to keep warm as I stared at both sides of the road constantly. My anxiety started to creeped up which made me pull out my phone and text JJ.

‘Hey, are you okay?’

delivered 8:30pm

I put my phone away and began to walk back and forth, up and down the sidewalk. The ticket man was giving me eyes of pity at this point. He offered a free ticket but dumbass me declined.

Time went on and it was 9:50 pm. My shoulders were down and my eyes got watery as I finally realized that JJ was not going to show up. I began to walk back to my car as I pulled out my phone to text him again, seeing all the previous ones.

‘Are you coming?’

delivered 9:00pm

‘Did something happen?’

‘Are you okay?’

delivered 9:05pm

‘If this was some sick bet or joke, you‘re a fucking asshole!’

delivered 9:30pm

‘I’m going home. Don’t talk to me ever again.’

Delivered 9:50pm

The ride home felt long and dreadful, I didn’t even have the energy to play some music. I stayed with the dead of night silence. The only thing heard were a few birds chirping, the leafs ruffling against each other and the waves crashing at shore. I walked inside my home and my mom sat at the dining table, organizing some things for work.

“Hi, honey. How was the date?” She asked, taking off her reading glasses, watching me out the car keys on the counter.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I muttered, turned to the hallway to go to my room.

“Well… I’m here, okay?” I nodded and walked towards my bedroom, throwing my purse on my bed. Tears crept up in my eyes as I threw myself on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Many questions went through my head and all turned to anxiety in a second.

The next day came around and I were working my usual shift after school at the Wreck. I was in charge of the take out orders and the cashier which made me stay behind the counter the whole time. I was currently reading ‘Little Women’ as I waited for more customers when the doorbell, causing me to look up. JJ ran inside, out of breath with worried eyes.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to miss it. I just needed to help Pope with something and we went to Charleston. It all took longer than expected and then my phone died, we saw Sarah and John B and we just came back really late. I didn’t see your messages and-“

“JJ, breathe.” I chuckled as I interrupted his rambling while holding his hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Please, forgive me.” He begged and pecked the top of my hand in desperation. I sighed and looked away while taking back my hand.

“What you did was really shitty, J.”

“I know, I know and I feel horrible about it but please forgive me.” I stayed quiet and moved back to the register to look over the receipts. JJ walked around the counter and cornered me, placing his hands on my cheeks.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you. I really like you so please, let me try this again.” He whispered looking in between my eyes and lips. I leaned up and connected my lips to his, interlocking them softly. We parted from each other, both of us a blushing mess and we realized what just happened.

“We can go to the movies again but I'll pick you up.” I laughed poking his chest playfully which made him chuckle.

“It’s a deal. Thank you.” JJ smiled and hugged me sweetly and kissed the side of my neck softly.

“Now please go so I can work.”

“Fine, fine. Oh, can I get a burger to go?”

“Seriously? Fine, it’ll be out in a minute.” I smiled as I wrote down the order and took it back to the kitchen. When I walked out, JJ was on the other side of the counter, flipping through the pages of the book. I stared at him for a while longer, admiring how the sun made his hair seem golden and how it made his eyes look a lighter shade of blue. If you haven’t noticed by now, yes, I’m pretty smitten.

#ilovefandoms102writingchallenge #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

Text

A FEAST - Azriel x readder. Prompt - Reader is injured and knocked out for days. Cassian gets him to finally leave your side for one meal and Nyx brings a guest with him...

"The Dragons Song is the best one, hands down." Nesta argued, hacking through the brush. "That one is full of the same scenes every time." You judged, pushing a branch out of the way. The jungle was a mess of twists and turns to work through, but thankfully one of the fishermen on the dock had sold you a compass at a descent price. "A little more right for a few more miles and we'll be there." You steered her on course. "At least it dosent say 'honeydew' every scene." She made a fake gagging noise and you laughed. The sound was muffled in the crowded forest. She hacked her way through the brush, one vine at a time. Until you finally reached the clearing. It was hot in the direct sun, a few degrees different than what the shade of the forest had been. You paced the perimiter, meeting her at the other side. "You mean Cassian dosen't like honeydew?" You wiggled your eyebrows at her. "Az does?" She challenged, earning a laugh from you. "The ones that you like are predictable beyond measure." You countered, earning a quick smile before your attention snapped across the meadow. To a giant hog serpent with venomous tusks that gleamed with their clear liquid. You swore and you and Nesta both drew swords at the same time. + Nesta ended the hog, but not before it had the chance for those razor sharp tusks to marr your legs with deep wounds. The venom stung, flowing into your bloodstream and paralyzing you slowly. You gasped at the sheer blinding pain it brought. "Nes-" You choked out between sobs. "Tell Az... Tell Az I love him." You smiled to her, putting a hand on her cheek. "No, no way. You're gonna tell him yourself. Stay awake. We're on the way." She reached deep to that bond to Cassian, and a flare of alertness greeted her. Then, a thrill of fire. "On the way. Rhys will be there in a few. Are you okay?" "Fine, she's delirious. She needs a healer and a detox for the venom." She thought back, sighing when she felt Rhys' presence. "Wheres Az?" You managed out of your chattering teeth. You were losing the fight against the venom quickly. It would have you under in a few minutes if Rhys didn't hurry to a healer. He placed a hand on you and darkness surrounded. "Cassian will-" He started to Nesta, "I know, get her safe." She rushed, urging him to winnow you already. When Cassian saw the amount of blood spilled, he cursed. "Most of it was the beast." Nesta cleaned her sword on an overgrown leaf that jutted down into the meadow. Her hands shook when she sheathed it. "Nes." He stopped her when she turned. "Nes..." He repeated, giving her a long look. She tried to hide her face, the terror there. "Lets go." He pulled her to his side and took off, holding her close to him. He said nothing about the tears that flowed to his shoulder. He just gripped her tighter. + Azriel had nearly broken the door when he stormed in. And he hadn't left your side since. Nesta stayed when she could, letting Azriel relax enough to sleep now and again. He trusted her to wake him if anything changed in your status. When he woke, he heard his brother's voice first. Quiet an hurried in tone, him and Nesta argued by the door. "He wont leave. You've already tried, just leave him alone." Nesta was scolding. Cassian gripped her hands, then whipped his head over to his brother when he saw him stretching on the bench. "Hey Az-" Cassian smiled, bounding over to his brother like a puppy. "You remmeber Madja saying it may take up to a week, right? How about you come to dinner up at the house with us." "I dont want to miss if she-" "Come on, Nyx will be there. Mor's coming back from the continent tonight too." Cassian tempted, poking at the old flame Azriel carried for the female. She was still incredible, and one of Azriels best friends, but he no longer felt that flame towards her. You had come along and crushed it with a bat of your eyelashes and a few quick witted insults at Cas. Nesta started pulling him away, giving you an apologetic smile. "It would be nice for you to be there is all he means." She began pushing him out the door, despite his protests. "Think about it! She wouldn't want you to be mourning while she's alive!" Cassian shouted, earning a smack from Nesta. Azriel smiled despite the dark nature of the situation. He pulled a chair up beside your resting body. It had been three days. How would he know if you were awake or not? He tugged on that dark link you shared together, and came up with the same unresponsiveness as before. He sighed, but took your hand anyway, falling asleep again to the sound of your soft breathing. + He decided to stay for just an hour. He would spare his family that much. He kissed you goodbye and tried his best to ignore the guilt he felt for leaving you behind. But Cassian was right. He knew that when you woke up you'd be upset about him not going. So he put on his brave face and flew up to the house of wind, to the joy of everyone. They clapped upon his arrival, making his cheeks burn. Mor gave him a hug and promised to catch up. But she hovered around a fae you hadn't met yet. A female that she watched with wide sparkling eyes. Azriel's chest bloomed with pride at the sight of them being so close, so full of life for each other. He looked away from the two, and sent his shadows out to Rhys. And found what he was seeking. He darted over to the end of the table where the high lord and lady sat across from each other. The head table was empty, and filthy. "That's a small monster if I've ever seen one." He bent and scooped Nyx up from under the table. He wriggled and laughed. "No monster Azzy." Nyx babbled, pulling on his uncle's hair. "No pulling hair!" Rhys scolded, making Nyx laugh even more. Feyre sighed. "You're just having fun. How about we go for a fly down to-" "Don't say it, Az." Rhy's tone went from scolding to pleading. Even though the baby couldn't fly yet, it was one of his favorite things to do. He could see how Rhys' son would be skilled at flying with just the way he angled his head when accompanying. Az poked at Nyx's belly and they fought like that for a few moments, Nyx eventually winnowing away with the joy only a child could have. Azriel froze, looking to the high lord and lady for comfort. Having a baby disappear in your arms was strange, even for Fae babies. "When'd he start doing that?" "Four days ago." Feyre sighed. She looked utterly exhausted. "We've been having to take turns staying up with him." Rhys held her hand across the table, they shared a sweet look together then they both whipped their heads to Nyx in unison. "Dont-" Feyre warned, giving her son a stern look as he pulled at the tablecloth. Amren gave the boy a look of discouragement as well when he looked around for someone to be laughing with him. He stopped after those silver eyes met his. Nesta gave Az a smile from across the room where she and Cassian welcomed the toddoling boy. "Let's start training, Nyxie. Come on, show me what you got." Cassian got on his knees to the floor and the two began wrestling together. Azriel took a seat beside Rhys, picking at the crackers and cheese platter before him. "When were we planning on going back to the Island?" Rhys asked, voice low. Cassian rolled with Nyx on the ground, making Nesta laugh when the boy pulled at Cas' hair. "I'm not going until my mate is healed. Maybe you should send them, see how much trouble they can get in." Az asked, trying to keep the hinting out of his voice. He wanted to go take care of it on his own. The mission on the Island was not complete and he didn't want to risk anyone again. He'd rather do it and make sure it was a finished job. He couldn't bare to see you be hurt over a fellow Valkyrie getting hurt either. "You know they would kill each other.... or themselves trying to protect the other." Feyre smiled despite herself. She knew it was the truth. Her sister being happy for once was a joy like no other. "Mom and Dad need to eat, Az you too." Cassian ordered. He bounced the boy on his legs, making him pretend fly. Azriel picked at the plate that appeared before him. The warm meat and stew looked incredible, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. The guilt was the only thing that weighed in his stomach. "I should go check on-" He began to say, folding his napkin back on the table. "How is she?" Cassian interrupted from the floor. Nesta was playing with Nyx now, rattling a toy around for him. Azriel kept his calm mask on, trying to fight the urge to check on you. The black haired boy looked to her with upset eyes. "Auntie?" He said, voice a bit whiny. "Auntie is napping, she'll be back in a little while." Nes assured. Azriel's heart squeezed at the love Nyx showed. Then, the boy was gone. The parents were digging into their plates. It was likely the only meal they'd shared together in the four days of taking turns watching Nyx. "Rhys-" Az began, terror sweeping his gut. Nyx was no where in sight. Nesta and Cassian both shot to their feet when they didn't spot him. Then, the plates in front of Azriel clattered and shot food everywhere. Mor and her date yelped and fled their chairs, mor pushing the other female behind her. Azriel's shadows coiled, siphons glared ready to fight. And Rhys didnt move as he observed the waking fae before him. The tug on Azriel's bond went taut. "Auntie here!" Nyx celebrated, patting your chest. You groaned and cracked open your eyes to see Azriel's shadows swirling about you. "Are you okay?!" Azriel gripped your shoulders, his warm hands seeping into your thin shirt. The sweats you wore were now stained with whatever food had been on the table. Rhys put down his fork slowly. "I wasn't expecting to be this kind of snack Az..." You said softly. Rhy's cheeks went red. Mor laughed first, her date looked to her with bewilderment and worry. Cassian rushed over and picked Nyx up from your stomach. "I think there's a fork in my back." You said, voice gruff. A hysterical laugh bubbled from Azriel, then the rest of them were cracking up. "Nyx... Thanks." Azriel breathed, and the boy began clapping. + Once you were back on your feet and Madja had given you the go ahead to take it easy, you asked Azriel to go on a walk with you. The stretch of your legs was sore, but the good kind of sore that left you feeling better and better with each step. The cool wind from the Sidra whipped around you. He wrapped a wing around both of you as you reached the apex of a bridge. "I owe that baby everything." He laughed, squeezing your hand tighter. The city was quiet, only soft music coming from the Rainbow and the calm trickle of the Sidra sounding out. "Nyx the Valkyrie deliverer." You laughed together, leaning against the railing on the bridge. The streetlights above cast a wonderful color over you, illuminating you both in a silvery shade that matched the moonlight. "I love you." You said, resting your head against his shoulder. It had been a long night, and who knew how long of sleeping... but you were tired. "Love you." He nudged you away so he could hook his finger under your chin and angle you up to kiss him. You wrapped your arms around him and compiled, letting the bond hum through you like a song.

#azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel #perfect-peach-bouquet

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