#as in the only person who keeps this idiot from exploding/dying under stress

[ronkeyroo]

I love him

[angsty-omi]

pull the trigger.

CEO!Akaashi x Agent!Reader

synopsis: You were assigned to kill one of the richest businessmen in Japan, Akaashi Keiji. How? by getting close to him. By pretending to be an innocent, naive little girl. By pretending you actually enjoy his company. By pretending that you actually loved him. The plan was simple enough, and if you were successful, you’d be rich enough to retire for yourself and your future grandchildren. So, what happens when you couldn’t pull the trigger? Even worse, why didn’t he flinch?

“Agent Y/N, you’ve been assigned.” your boss notified.

It’s been so long since you had been assigned. After you accidentally blew up the evidence last mission, your boss hasn’t been to keen depending on you. This was music to your ears, so what did you do? Jumped gleefully and instinctively squeezed your boss. You realized what you were doing and how unprofessional it was, so you slowly latched off of her. Your boss just coughed awkwardly before she began, “This assignment is a big one, meaning there must be no flaws to this plan. One mistake and you’re done for, literally.” ending with a slit-throat gesture. You were confident in your skills, and aside from that one mission, everyone depended on you. No wonder why your boss came to you for this. You glad-fully shook her hand, in which expressed your disparity for a new high.

To start, you had to change your look a bit. See, you researched Akaashi Keiji, from his likes and dislikes to his convictions. Every conviction he got away with money. Dirty bastard. Every single job left you guilt-less because you knew these people were corrupt and somehow reasoned that your job was ethical. First, you started with a trim. Your split ends would’ve definitely caught the eyes of the girls from his front desk. Then, you used the budget money for this mission to buy luxury items. From Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, was this really for the mission or for yourself? No one really knows. Finally, and most importantly, you had to snatch a job as his personal assistant. The organization already falsified documents for you. After today, you go by ‘Akiyama Ami.’ As you walked out of your office, your coworkers couldn’t even recognize you. One even put a gun to your head, and having to state who you are.

You smirked, “Matsuda, I am deeply saddened if this is how you treat your advisor,” whispering in his ear. 

“Senior Y-Y/N?,” he stuttered, putting his gun away immediately. You grabbed his arm and forcefully pushing it to his back, “please make sure you never make that mistake again,” you stated. 

“Y/N, leave him alone already,” a voice joked.

You knew that voice. It was your long time partner, Atsumu. From when you both were rookies, you guys worked cases together quite often. Never more than that. 

“Atsumu, this is my first case without you... aren’t you going to miss me?” you pouted. 

“Don’t give me that look, idiot. Be safe out there okay? I can’t always save your ass like from that time you exploded our only evidence.” he shook his head in disappointment.

You punched his shoulder, and he ‘over-dramatically’ ached in pain. “I’ll be fine, Atsumu. Plus our person literally looks like a prissy privileged boy, doesn’t he?” you pulled up Akaashi’s Business Insider profile. For the next ten minutes, you guys were bullying the hell out of him. Until finally, you had to go. Your cab was already ready for you, so you hugged Atsumu goodbye. Platonically, you always thought you’d get married to him. He was handsome, strong, and witty. And he knew your job situation, so you never would have to feel judgement from him. 

From the cab ride, you got to fly in a private jet. There, was your boss, two intelligent analysis, and a linguist. This was your team, and who’d you tell your intel to. The whole flight consisted of breaking down the plan, even down to what time you have to walk in the elevator. The destination was in Tokyo, where Akaashi’s main headquarters lived. 

“I’ve made an appointment for your job interview,” One of them said.

“Here’s your resume,” The other said.

As you skimmed through, you spit your drink.

“I can speak more than five languages?!” your eyes widened.

“壊れた日本語で話せます” you quoted.

“What does that mean?” your boss asked looking at you surprisingly.

“It means I can only speak broken Japanese,” you nervously scratched your head.

“It wouldn’t matter, the job application is asking for english-speakers” the linguist stated.

As the plane started to screech, due to the wheels contact with concrete, you knew it was your time to shine. You practiced all your lines during the flight, so confidence soared through your body. On sight, there was a limo waiting for you. You waved goodbye to your team, and entered the lanky vehicle. 

The condominium the organization gave you was luxurious, their budget must’ve been high-grade. Broad birched doors, huge window panels that let in a lot of natural light, and a master bedroom. Your first move was to jump on the feather-light bed. Your feet sunk deep into the mattress every hop. Leaving you tired, you went straight to sleep. 

Today was your job interview. Even though everything was fake, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. If you didn’t go down the agency path, is this what you would’ve felt as a normal person? While the coffee was brewing, you decided to look at your grand closet, not knowing what to wear. There was already an outfit set out for you. With it, there was a note:

Good luck! ;) -Atsumu

As you read it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The outfit he picked wasn’t even that bad. It was an emerald green two-piece, with a pale blouse underneath. 

“Not so bad,” you thought, while looking at yourself in the mirror. 

There, stood the building where the infamous person lived worked. Heels tapping the black marble, you stood in front of the front desk. The girls that worked there looked roughly young, around their early 20s. As they stared at you up and down, you could feel their judgement. 

“Welcome to Fukurodani Headquarters, how may we help you?” One girl asked.

“Hi, I’m Akiyama Ami, I’m actually applying for the personal assistant job. Where could I meet my interviewer?” You warmly asked.

The girls bursted into laughter. What was so funny? Did you miss out on the joke?

“Excuse us, its just... that’s one way to call Akaashi Keiji,” 

“Akaashi Keiji... is the interviewer? That’s even more stressful than a random person. It does make sense though, as a personal assistant there should be a close relationship,” you sighed.

“Close relationship? Please, you’ll be lucky if you can even give him coffee. Get in line.” The front desk scoffed in agreement with each other. 

“That’s enough,” a voice commanded.

“Are you Akiyama Aki? I’m ready for you.” 

Your face went pale. As you slowly turned around, there he was. The man himself, Akaashi Keiji. As an agent, you’ve went through strenuous training, so from the outside you looked relaxed as ever, but on the inside the butterflies in your stomach started awakening. He was a very attractive man after all.

“You must be Mr. Akaashi, let’s begin!” you enthusiastically smiled, while following him into his office. 

“So Akiyama, tell me about yourself?” Akaashi read off a list.

“Well I was born in the states, but my parents are foreign. They enforced me to take a lot of language classes, hence why I know quite a lot.” You were dying inside. It was a half-true statement though, you were from the states and your parents are foreign.

“It says you speak French, Aimez-vous boire l'eau des toilettes?” He smirked. 

You had no idea what he just said. The silence was deafening, so you just laughed it off. You’ve been told your laugh is very contagious, so you used that to your benefit. Your laughter increased, his did too. 

After you both calmed down, he continued with his next question, “Out of all of the candidates, why should I hire you?”

“Well I guess my stats match up with everyone else, but what’s not on the textbook is my characteristics. I am dependable, calm, and honestly easy to work with. I will do my best to help you any way I can, and keep your stress levels at ease.” You smiled with confidence. 

“Any way huh?” Akaashi whispered to himself. You acted like you didn’t hear his whisper. As an agent it was also one of your many talents to keep an ear out for anything. 

“Akiyama, congratulations! you’ve gotten the job.” Akaashi put his hand out.

“R-r-really? That was only two questions” you tilted your head to the side. You could feel his glare as a response.

“Well, thank you anyways! My parents will be pleased.” you gushed as you shook his calloused hands. Parents? Please, more like your boss. You swore you could hear a ‘cha-ching’ sound effect in your head.

Over the next couple of months, you’ve been working under Akaashi. If he was staying up til’ 2 AM at the office, so were you. Continuously brewing coffee, while also printing papers, and keeping him company. 

However, one day the routine changed. Prior to this day, your boss had just kept you up for the next order, so you were extremely tired. During the 2 AM session, your eyes slowly started to drift off, feeling the wave of drowsiness pound into your head. Akaashi walked into your office and was going to ask you for copies, until he saw you sleeping head down on your desk. At first, he was going to viciously shake you awake, but seeing your dainty face in the moonlight he couldn’t bring himself to. This was the first time he saw you vulnerable. Typically, when he would ask if you were tired, you would just shake it off with a bright smile. However, he knew. He could tell that you were pushing for him. So, he draped over his blazer around you, in hopes to insulate some warmth and went back to his office. Minutes later, you jerked yourself awake. You felt a strange piece of clothing around you, so you pinched at it while analyzing. Does it look like a weapon? No. Does it have any toxins? No. Could this harm you in any way, shape, or form? It honestly just looked like a plain blazer you thought. As you checked the shoulder pocket, there was an ID. 

“Akaashi’s jacket huh?” you said to yourself, not even noticing the smile that crept up on your face. As soon as you caught yourself, you immediately slapped your face. Oh no. Quickly, you sent a picture of the ID, so that the agency can create a replica for future secret documents and shoved it back inside. 

Knocking at the entrance to his office, he looked up at you with bagged eyes. His sleepiness radiated off of him, so you did what you promised on the first day-- relieve his stress levels. You pulled down the shutters of his clear office so no one could look in. In addition, setting up the couch to where there was a pull up bed under it.

“Miss Akiyama, if you’re trying to seduce me you could’ve just said so,” He flirtatiously grinned. You rolled your eyes in response, and grabbed him to the bed.

“I like where this is going, Ami, I didn’t think you were so bold.”

“Just shut up and get some rest, I’ll appoint some things out so your projects aren’t due.”

As he opened his mouth, you anticipated that he was for sure going to deny. However, no words came out of his mouth, instead he grabbed your wrists and pulled you onto the bed with him. 

“I’ll accept, on the conditions that you, too get some rest.”

Too tired to argue, you complied. As you both fell asleep, with his arms wrapped around you.

a/n: i was planning on making this a one shot but i feel like this might be a multiple part-er(?)

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I felt as though since this story had such a specific narrative (especially delving into the harsh world of modeling and the effects of discrimination) that it would reach out to a very specific niche of reader.

I was actually astonished by loud support this fic has obtained so for, so thank you so much! I cannot stress enough how much that means to me. 

HnM 💕

Tag-list: @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho​

Month 1, Month 3

--Month 2--

No.

You looked at the stick of plastic in your hand with wide eyes as your mouth stuttered into a slack jaw—your breaths hardly making their way in and out of your lungs evenly.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you saw white spots underneath your lids before you snapped them back open again, internally praying that you would wake up form whatever nightmare you were having.

However, you couldn’t blink away the big, fat smiley face that stared back up at you from the piece of purple and white plastic that sealed your fate.

No. No. No!

The sudden urge to puke came back with a vengeance and you threw yourself to the toilet, slamming your knees to the ground in the process. As your stomach lurched up into your chest, you couldn’t tell whether the tears forming in your eyes were from the harshness of the motion or something else entirely.

“Gah!” you loudly choked out as you pulled away from the mess in the toilet. 

Once the nausea became slightly less debilitating you leaned back against your bathtub, throwing your head up as you groaned to the ceiling, “No, no, no, nooo…” you softly sobbed. You tried your best to keep from bawling so you didn’t find yourself with your head back in the bowl, but you couldn’t help the stream of hot tears that spilled from your eyes as you stared at the vent in the ceiling.

How could this happen? How could you be… pr...

A sudden stirring in your gut made you swallow hard as you tried to keep your stomach out of your throat.

Don’t be an idiot, Y/N. You took sex education in high school. You put the condom on the banana and were scolded with constant threats of STDs and the fires of Hell like everybody else. So yeah. You know how it happened.

You sighed as you thought back to all the guys you had slept with recently-- which was luckily not too many within the past few months, and only one since your last period.

Fuck, you didn’t even remember what the damn fathe-- guy looked like.

Well, excluding his rippling muscles.

You threw your head into your hands as the uncanny image of a body builder newborn infiltrated your mind. Well, that didn’t fucking help at all. Grabbing your hair tightly as you stared at the tile between your legs, you cursed yourself, “You dumbass! How could you be so goddamn stupid!? Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you repeatedly knocked against your skull.

You reached into the recesses of your memory for any information you might have about the guy. Where was his apartment again...? On the other side of town somewhere right… Near Club 52? God, you didn’t even fucking know! and what did it matter anyway, huh? What were you gonna do? Storm up to his place, pregnancy tests a-blazin’, and tell the complete stranger that you were carrying his kid?!

With a weak and tired moan, you lifted yourself off of your bathroom floor and went to the sink to rinse your bile infested mouth out and wash the salty tears off of your cheeks.

But not before you got a good look at yourself in the mirror.

Swollen eyes.

Red nose.

Drying, teary snot pooling on the rim of your upper lip.

“You look like shit,” you harshly reprimanded yourself before turning the sink on and sticking your face into the cool water. Your hands blindly reached around your counter until you finally grabbed a nearby hand towel to bring to your face. As you patted your cheeks dry, your eyes wandered to the counter where three other positive pregnancy tests that you had taken earlier that morning resided.

The trio all sported a similar smug smile as they looked up to you as if to say ‘we told you so.’

The little shits.

“Shut up.” You quickly grabbed all four tests and with a hint of bitterness chucked them into a nearby trash bin before making your way to your bedroom across the hall.

Plopping down onto your screeching mattress, you took your phone out:

Boss Lady

[2:50 pm]

Hey, brat. I hope you’re doing better.

Don’t forget that we have that runway fitting next week. And the test shots. And the international scouting event.

Think. Thin.

No carbs. No red meats.

NO ALCOHOL!!!

Fucking no alcohol for nine whole months. You attempted to scoff at this, but what came out could have probably been mistaken for the last sounds of a dying animal.

Kimi:

[3:31 pm]

Hope you made it home safe last night!

As you read this text, a piece of you wished that maybe you hadn't made it home safe last night... Your brain briefly wandered into the dark territories of ‘what if’s’ as you imagined falling in front of the train at the subway, walking past a drug deal gone wrong, hell-- drowning on the water you took with your Pepto Bismol. You quickly brushed these thoughts away as you continued looking through your phone, 

Boss Lady

[4:45 pm]

Oh, also Deku just asked for a meeting with you personally.

You’re going of course. Glad you got his attention. Good girl.

Tomorrow.  5:00pm. El Vino’s downtown. (EAT LIGHTLY!)

Inches! Inches! Inches!

You slammed your phone down onto your mattress as you loudly sighed.

Inches. Your entire livelihood depended on your damn inches and now there was no way you could maintain the “golden ratio.” The thought made your blood churn.

Modeling… was all that you had. You didn’t have any other fucking talents—no quirk to depend on-- so when would your growing stomach steal your life away?

When do people even start ‘showing’? 

You haven’t come across many pregnant women, but all of the ones you have seen either looked like normal people or like freaking beach balls. For some reason your brain couldn’t conjure an intermediate.

Did they just blow up out of nowhere? If so, then when? How long could you pull a ruse off before your growing organ snitched on you? 5 months? 6 months? Next fucking week?

You realized then that you knew next to jack squat about pregnancy.

Or damn kids for that matter.

Okay so... abortion? For some reason, even just the thought of that word made an icky taste surge in your mouth—or maybe it was the leftover vomit, who knows?

To be honest, you had never really thought much on abortion before—it was one of the many topics filed into your brain under ‘that does not and will not pertain to me, so why the fuck should I care?’ Filtered out and forgotten, your feelings on abortion had yet to be developed.

Until now.

After a few beats, you opened your phone back up and began to dial Kimi, fearing that you might soon explode with the brunt of knowledge that weighed heavily upon your shoulders.

You paused.

Had you ever actually talked to her about anything that wasn’t exclusively work related? In the past two years of knowing her, have you ever actually learned anything about her, and she about you? Very suddenly, you were slapped in the face by a crude fact: Kimi was just a work-friend.

That was fucking fine and dandy up until now. You pretty much either worked, or drank, or showed up to work drunk. But now…

Shit.

Who the hell else could you call? You barely had any friends, and you hadn’t talked to your family in what felt like ages. Who was there for situations like this? If half of your life was working, and half of your life was drinking, and your work friends were a no go… what about your drinking friends? Your mind briefly fled to the stashes of your best buddies-- vodka and tequila-- that you kept in your kitchen.

But not even they could save you now.

Fuck you really were alone.

That night, you found yourself constantly flipping your pillow to find a new dry spot to assault with fresh tears. You hadn’t cried so much since you were a kid. Wait-- come to think of it, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had cried at all.

So, was it hormones? Pregnancy hormones?

The surreal thought made your tears fly down your face even more furiously.

The next evening there was practically no trace or evidence of your mental breakdown from the night before as you strolled up to El Vino’s. It was honestly kind of frightening how quickly you had managed to pull yourself together before this little meeting—but mostly, it was empowering.

Okay, Y/N. You fucking got this. Hormones or not, you were still a baddie to your very core.

Deku was easy enough to spot in the little Mediterranean themed restaurant—with the green-ass hair and all. You strolled up to the table with the warmest smile that you could muster, “Mr. Deku,” you quickly approached his table and gave a slight bow.  

“H-Hey!” You seemed to startle him with your sudden appearance. He jumped a bit in his seat and awkwardly shifted as you made your way to your own chair. His face was a bit red as you maintained your eyes on his shying expression. 

“Look, before you say anything. I just want to say sorry,” his shocked eyes suddenly snapped back up to yours as you continued, “I had no idea that the event was yours and I probably ruined the rest of the night for you. If you want me off the brand deal, then I completely understand, just... don’t blame Ainu’s agency.”

His mouth fumbled over itself for a moment, causing you to quirk an unsure eyebrow before he could finally speak up, “No t-that’s not what I am here for at all, Miss L/N.”

“Call me Y/N. please,” your smirk was a little less sure than usual and you prayed that he couldn’t detect how off he had thrown you. This was going much different than you had expected it to. For one, he wasn’t trying to ‘put you in your place for disrespecting him’ or bargain  sex ‘as an apology’ like most power hungry men in his position would.

“Okay, M-miss Y/N,” the blush that adorned his cheeks confused you even further and you felt the space between your eyebrows involuntarily tighten. That was another thing… He didn’t seem like a typical man in a position of power. He was… soft... you didn’t know how else to explain it other than unusual for a man of his size and stature.

“I actually wanted to apologize to you,” he spoke up once more and you were completely lost by then. You could only blink as he continued to speak, “You really got me thinking about things the other night-- you were totally right. The brand of my sneakers did lose its true meaning. I really meant to have it be a symbol for kids growing up without a quirk to enjoy—to give them hope, but it turned into more of an endorsement to myself. The whole thing. It was wrong. That’s why I have decided to give 100% of my personal Red Sneakers profits to establishing my Quirkless Youth Initiative,”

You looked around for any hidden cameras—any hidden agenda behind his motives before looking back to him with a stiff expression. You had to physically keep your face from scrunching, “And just how are you going to make a living out of a mindset like that?” you dared to call his bluff.

“It’s just gonna have to work. It’s what my mentor would have done—given 100%. Beyond actually.”

Holy shit. This man was being serious. ‘100% and beyond’ serious, to be exact. Your face scrunched up once more, “Why do you care so much anyway?” you cut back on your tone as you noticed his eyes widen a bit at your accusatory voice, “Not to be rude, but… what’s a strong hero like you doing caring about us quirkless?”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment or two. Contemplating on whether or not he was going to lie, you noticed, “I… I…  didn’t have a quirk until much later in life. I was 14. Growing up, I always wanted to be a hero, and I just wish that I had someone back then believe in me. I want to be the one that tells kid’s—with a smile-- that they can do it. That they have at least one person who believes in them.”

His name-- Deku-- it meant worthless. The puzzle pieces were finally coming together and things began to make sense. It was a name that either himself or others used to describe him when he was growing up probably, and the man had taken it and spun it around to make it his own. Even you had to admit--

“That’s pretty damn impressive,” you couldn’t help the curl that tugged into the corners of your lips as Deku bashfully looked away from you,

“It’s nothing, really!” he tried to deflect. You gave a small laugh before smoothly bringing up the glass of wine in front of you to your lips. As soon as the liquid rushed in your mouth, your eyes flew wide open with realization,

Shit! What the fuck were you doing?

You immediately spit the alcohol back into your cup and snapped your eyes back to Deku who had, thankfully, been too caught up in his own embarrassment to be paying attention to you. You gave a sigh of relief and sat the wine glass as far away from you as inconspicuously possible. 

“So,” you leaned into the table a bit to get his eyes back on you, “Tell me about this Quirkless Youth Initiative,” you smiled. 

From that point on, you and Deku actually found talking to each other relatively easy—okay, extremely easy. In fact, you stayed past the point of dinner and ended up talking at your table hours after the bill had been paid.

You talked about everything and nothing altogether and didn’t know just when to end the conversation. You lowered your borders for some reason. Well-- you knew the reason. It was because you had been dying to talk to someone since you found out that you were the ‘p-word.’

 He ended up walking you home. Past that, for the next two weeks you guys pretty much saw each other every other day or two and talked fairly regularly. Things became habitual.

In fact.

As you stood in the beaming light of the wardrobe, getting your makeup done, you found yourself stealing little glances here and there to your phone to text with your new friend, Deku. Every buzz of your phone left you with a giddy sense of excitement.

One of the models sharing the gigantic mirror with you quickly took notice of your demeanor, “What are you smiling at, Y/N?”

“She’s texting someone,” another spoke up as your friend/babysitter, Kimi strolled up next to you,

“What?! Y/N L/N texting someone back? Have we entered the Twilight Zone??” she joked. You only responded with poking your tongue out at her before your phone buzzed again, 

Deku:

[1:00 pm]

Good Luck on your runway thing today!

You:

More like run away thing🏃‍♀️💨

Deku:

I could help? Bring comfort snacks?

You:

Most of us haven’t eaten a full meal in days BB

You would literally be stampeded by women

Wait that sounded too good🤔

You will literally be stampeded by hungry women***

Deku:

You haven’t been eating?!

Since when?!

You:

That’s not what I said. 

Just pre-show prep to keep the waists snatched and the legends skinny💁‍♀️

Deku:

Sorry I don’t know how your job really works.

I’ll come over again tonight after your show and bring dinner!

If that’s okay. Sorry didn’t mean to sound pushy.

“Didn’t you hear? Her and Deku really hit it off on their date,”  Your attention was instantly snapped away from your phone screen.

You gave an ugly snort, “It wasn’t a date.” And you certainly weren’t lying. The friendly atmosphere between you and Izuku felt comfortable as best—nothing intimate about it.

You wouldn't have it any other way. It felt as though he was placed in your life to perfectly fill the holes in your boat just before you started sinking.

“Girl your phone is blowing up!” a co-worker exclaimed, loudly.

Kimi laughed as she pinched your cheeks, “Look at that smile on her face”

All of the commotion gathered the attention of Boss Lady, who was currently storming up to you with the ‘phone box’ (or phone cemetery as some of you liked to call it) in her hand. She liked to have this on her especially in big events like runways or show casings because some of the girls—you were guilty as charged—spent quite a bit of time on their phones behind the scenes, “Phone. Bin. Now.”

Usually, you would put up some type of argument or give a quick-witted remark, but this time around you only rushed to send one final text in before you threw your cellphone into the crate.

You:

[1:33pm]

I should get off at like 11 see you then broccoli boy🥦🤪

Kimi looked terrified as though she was the one who had just incurred Ainu’s wrath, “Still smiling, huh...?” 

You hadn’t even notice that you had been.

Talking to Deku really did make you happy when you needed it. Just like he spun ‘deku’ around and made it make sense, he had spun your life around and did the same. He made you feel like life was normal—whatever the hell that was. You’d never really been classified as normal anyway, but you had some impression that this resembled what it must feel like.

For a fleeting moment you think that maybe you should just sleep with Deku and pass this pregnancy off as his since you had yet to tell him-- or anyone-- about it. 

But the better half of you instantly slaps this thought out through your ears.

Hello? Welcome to psycho bitch incorporated. Seriously. What the fuck was wrong with you?

Damn, you had been separated from your phone (and Deku) for exactly 23 seconds and you were already outta your cot-damn mind. You get one friend and suddenly you don’t know how to act. 

You needed to somehow find “blond muscle man” and let him know what was up. Fuck, how were you supposed to do that when you didn’t even know his name?

The runway that night went pretty much how every single other runway went, except this time-- you opted not to attend any of the after parties. Instead, you went home and had Deku over, who delivered on his promise with sushi. 

You could smell the sushi as soon as he walked through the door and your mouth instantly watered. He really was god sent. 

The two of you settled quickly in your apartment, deciding to risk it all and eat on your living room couch to watch TV; however, you quickly noticed that the TV wasn’t the only thing that Izuku was watching. As soon as you turned to raise an eyebrow on him he feebly attempted to avert his gaze, but you caught him anyways, “What? You better stop sizing me up unless you wanna fight, Deku,” you sang as you popped another sushi roll into your mouth.

“W-what sizing you up?!”

You cackled at the sudden redness of his face, “I’m just joking. We both know I’d probably kick your ass!”

“You think so?” he actually sounded a bit nervous in his tone, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, I know so,” you shrugged with a growing smirk, “Anyway. What are you staring so hard at me for?”

The air became very still around the two of you as he looked down to think. This was something that became pretty expectant of him these past few week-- a funny little habit.

“It’s just… we’ve been hanging out a lot the past few weeks and I never really noticed it—your… dieting,” he seemed to fall into that last word a bit as if it wasn’t exactly the word that he had wanted to use. 

You knew that he meant to say ‘starving yourself’ but was too reserved for that level of bluntness. That was okay with you. You weren't particularly ready to open that can of worms, “Damn, and here I was thinkin’ I was looking pretty damn good,” you joked as the both of you began cleaning up your food mess.  

“No. That’s not what I meant I—”

“Joking! I’m just joking with you, Big D,” you found yourself using this nickname for him whenever you wanted to see his face fall into it’s deepest shades of red. It worked every single time,

“I have just been at this for a long time—modeling for Ainu’s agency. Since I was 15 actually,” you shook your head a little at the surge of nostalgia that wanted to bubble up your back. You clutched a nearby pillow and hugged it to your chest, “She scouted me at a mall food court. She changed my entire life—for the better of course. She is practically my mom... I owe her a lot,” you found yourself giving into the nostalgia a bit-- a small, fond smile tugging at your lips. You looked up after a few beats of silence filled the air and was met with Deku’s admiring stare, “What? You nerd!” you exclaimed with a giggle, chucking the pillow at him. 

“It’s nothing. I just like hearing about you. I feel like I have been doing a lot of talking about me since we have been hanging out.”

Yeah, he was a Cancer zodiac for sure. You pretty much knew his entire life’s story after only the first week of knowing him, “Are you kidding me?! Your life is straight out of a comic book, BB! I love hearing about it!” You began talking to him from out of the kitchen as you put your leftovers in the fridge,

“You went up against the League of Villains, the Vanguard Action Front and The Paranormal Liberation Front as a freshman?? You powered up from a quirkless crybaby! (Hey!) to an amazing, uprising, super considerate, overpowered crybaby on his way to number one! Your U.A. friends all seem like comic book characters, too. I love them already from what you tell me,” you closed the fridge, revealing his shocked expression.

“Really?” You nodded, igniting a spark in his eyes, “Well, I am actually having a little get together at my place for my friends if you wanna stop by.”

“Yeah sure. As long as my favorite character, Kaminari, is there,” Izuku seemed shocked and slightly offended by your choice in favorite, so you clarified, “He sounded really cool and all with his ‘chatty zappy’ thing going on,” you suddenly rolled your eyes as a bad taste emerged in your mouth, “Kacchan sounds like a little bitch baby though, no offense.”

“Y/N!”

“What?! Kacchan can ‘Kach’ these ‘hans’! Oh come on. Not even a pity laugh? A little one?” You apparently thought you were a lot funnier than Izuku did. 

“I think the two of you might actually get along. You’re very similar now that I think about it,” he trailed off on his last part, seemingly talking to himself as he grabbed his chin. 

You almost felt offended by his comparison, “Fuck that. Oppisites attract, Similars repel. Besides. Why would I wanna be friends with a little bitch baby that bullies and pisses on quirkless people?”

“Well, when you meet him next week you might like him…”

You clicked your tongue, “So now I am obligated to come, huh?” you smirked.

“N-no well that’s not what I meant but I would appreciate if you—”

You were only half paying attention to his freak out as the abrupt craving for orange juice infiltrated your mind and placed itself on the forefront of your thoughts, “Deku. I am joking!” you absentmindedly reminded him as you scoured your pantries for a wine glass. You had taken to drinking out of these instead of regular cups to at least maintain a semblance of your old self. 

Izuku’s eyes widened at the sight of your collection of wines and alcohols in one of your cupboards. You smirked at him-- throwing him  look that said ‘you ain’t seen nothin yet’ as you opened your freezer to reveal the insane hoard of alcohol you had stored.

His jaw practically dropped to the floor at the sight, “Holy woah, you have an entire liquor store in here!”

“Saving for a rainy day,” you almost immediately realized the error of your words as Izuku motions to one of the windows near you. The two of you sat in a beat of silence as the pitter-patter of rainfall splattered against the glass pane.

“It’s raining today,” he grinned excitedly. 

“No... I cant,” the way that the words fell out sounded about as convincing as a disguise with groucho glasses. You could really go for a drink right about now.

He looked to you a bit sadly, if not disappointed, “Y/N if this is about your diet… I am just saying, I don’t think one day will hurt too much.”

“No, I really shouldn't.” Understatement of the century. 

Izuku grabbed two glasses out of your cupboard with a soft smile gracing his features, “We’ll pour you just a little bit in case you change your mind—”

Maybe one glass wouldn't hurt... No. NO! God, you knew he meant well, but he is really fucking making this hard for you!! “I cant, I’m pregnant!!” you suddenly yelled. He immediately froze, 

“Wha...?”

“I’m pregnant...”

“Oh... Uhhh congratulations,” the most unconvincing thing to have ever come out of his mouth probably, “Who…”

“I don’t know,” the look of utter horror on his face had you instantly backtracking your answer, “Well—let me rephrase that. I do know who it is, but I don’t know his name. It was a umm.. ‘Wam. Bam. Thank you ma’am’ type deal.” Your face began burning as hot blood rushed into your cheeks. You literally couldn't have phrased that worse if you tried. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“You don’t look pregnant...” the horror on his face now registered into your mind as pure shock. 

“I sure as hell would hope not. I am like a month-ish along—I think.”

“You haven’t been to the doctor?”

“Uhh no...” He was right, you didn't even look pregnant. There was no way in hell that you needed to go to the doctor yet. Right?

“W-wait! Y/N the night we met! You were drinking alcohol!”

“So? I am probably only like a few weeks pregnant and I drank like two glasses. I am sure it didn’t do anything…?”

“Are you really sure? How can you know!? You have to go see a doctor!” he looked terrified. It was as if he suddenly was the embodiment every stressed emotion that you had been shoving away from you these past few weeks and the sight scared you. 

“You’re freaking me out, Deku.”

He instantly froze, “S-sorry,” he looked down to his shoes. Maybe you just might let him pour those drinks after all. He looked like he could use both of them right about now...

The next week dragged on for what felt like eons, as Izuku seemed to cautiously dance around the topic of your “preexisting condition.” It was quite obvious that every time the topic came up, a cloud of discomfort would come and sit on his shoulders; however, the man still made it a point to urge the fact that you needed to set up a doctor’s appointment.

Eventually, you caved in and scheduled for one at a local clinic, but they couldn't get you in for a few weeks anyway-- the joint was at maximum capacity, you guessed?  Apparently, there were more pregnant bitches waddling around than you thought.

Still, Deku urged you to read up and research some things prior to your appointment so that you could ask the doctor any questions that might pop up. It seemed like he was almost way too into this-- taking notes in a composition notepad that he dubbed “Baby Notes Vol 1″ and even mentioning coming along with you to your clinic visit.

It made things extremely real. 

Your little safe space with Deku had effectively been conquered and subjugated by the little parasite that took residence in your body. You shook your shoulders with a sigh as you neared Deku’s door for the party. 

*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK* 

When the door opened you couldn't help the way that your eyebrows flew up in surprise at the sight of a woman opening the door. Uhh... did you go to the wrong house?

The brown haired girl in front of you looked just as surprised as you-- if not even more so. 

Okay, you definitely went to the wrong house.

The sudden sound of Izuku’s voice coming deep from withing the apartment led you to breath easy. You deflated a little bit as you relaxed. You wouldn't have to make a mad dash in a lagged game of ‘ding dong ditch’ after all,  “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.”

A series of emotions flashed across her expression at your greeting: shocked, nervous, then... disappointed? “Y/N! I’ve heard... so so much about you!” the smile that stretched across her lips seemed almost painful, “I’m Ochako Uraraka! I... love your hair!” she threw out the last part like a rabbit would throw steak to wolves. 

“Thank’s...” you felt fucking awkward and she still hasn’t let you into the apartment, “I’ll make sure to thank the stylist and the bottle of dye she used.”

“That’s not your real hair color? It looks so healthy though!” she seemed heartbroken as she used a pitying tone and you could gauge that the pity was not for yourself. 

“Nah. My agency pretty much determines what hairstyles I wear...”  You made eye contact with Deku inside of the house as he made his way to the door... Thank god! you were saved from that terribly awkward interaction.

“Agency? Hero agency?”

“Modeling, actually. I’m not that badass,” you smirked before walking into the party.

Her figure deflated as if to say, ‘of fucking course’, “Oh. That’s cool!” You didn’t see much of Uraraka after that 

Meanwhile, Bakugou was just a tick away from being angry enough to kill. His roommates had all three convinced him to go to this get together over Deku’s house and they weren't even going to be there on time! 

He had honestly never been to a party with these losers without at least Shitty Hair being with him, so he wasn’t exactly sure how it would pan out and that really bothered him. He wasn’t exactly social at these events, but at least the three stooges kept him somewhat entertained (he would never admit this aloud).

What could those other losers possible do to entertain him?

“Whyyyyyyy?” he heard crying as he neared Deku’s home. His face scrunched in on itself even further than usual as he approached the whining noise. He scoffed at the inebriated mess in front of him,

“What the hell are you doing, round face?”

Uraraka, who was leaning against the edge of Izuku’s front patio looked up, causing Bakugou to deeply grimace at the germy snot that trailed down her red face, “Deku’s new girlfriend sure is cool. He deserves someone like her, right? She’s perfect!” Bakugou couldn't help the way that his face shriveled into itself in disgust. 

It wasn't too late. He could still turn around and go the fuck home and no one would even know he was here. Well, save for bubble cheeks here, but she probably wouldn't even remember to be honest. 

But as soon as Bakugou turned back around to make his escape Uraraka spoke up again, “She’s a model. They met at the Red Sneakers Event apparently,” Of course this piqued the man’s interest. There were only a few models branding the event and he just so happened to be searching for one of them. Uraraka continued with her drooling of words as Bakugou brushed past her and made his way into the house-- not bothering to knock,

“You know I am the one who gave him that idea in the first place? It’s kinda like. I set him up with his future wife!” she drunkenly cried to no one in particular as Bakugou stormed away.

He passed Iida on his way in, “Go get round face and shut her drunk ass up-- she’s outside,” he didn't bother on stopping to further explain before walking back to the commotion of the party.

 As soon as he entered the packed room, his eyes landed on you. It was like the Red Sneakers Event all over again. You were simply glowing-- hard to miss-- especially with the crowd of his old classmates hovering around you like some damn flies on shit-- especially Deku. He was way too close to you-- the rat bastard. 

“Oooh! You’ve been to Milan! That’s so cool, girl! So you must get to sight-see like a lot!”

The way that your shoulders leaned and swayed as you talked sent flutters into Bakugou’s heart. Fucking gross. He watched you speak very intently-- searching for the magic you had used to bewitch him, “Actually I was working a lot when I was there, so I really only got to see the sets and runways,” you made fleeting eye contact with him from across the room, furrowing your eye brows a bit at his stare before breaking the gaze. 

“Do you get to keep the outfits after the shoots?!”

“Pfft. Hell no! This loser still hasn’t sent me a pair of his red shoes. What happened to helping the quirkless, huh, broccoli boi?” The most primal urge of jealousy that Bakugou had ever felt sprinted through his body as you leaned over to playfully tap that shitty Deku in the arm. The feeling was so intense that he hadn’t even registered what you had said fully. 

“You’re quirkless?” Racoon Eyes inquired, snapping Bakugou out of his feral trance. His face fell a bit as he dutifully awaited your answer. 

“Yeah. It’s whatever,” you shrugged.

“The competition must be so difficult!” Momo spoke up as she placed and apologetic hand to her chest. The gesture made you tense up a bit, but you reminded yourself that she probably didn't mean it in a belittling way as she continued,  “I’ve been to a few magazine shoots myself and it is always girls with flashy quirks who end up in front and center!”

“Well, I compete well, I guess,” you knew that hero hero modeling and your fashion modelling were two completely different worlds. Designers saw you guys mostly as clothing racks and mannequins for their clothes, so usually they wanted their models to be as mundane as possible-- not to distract from their fabric art. So basically the perfect job for someone like you, “it’s no big deal. I get by like everybody else.”

“You just live your life like normal!”

“Awhhhh. Y/N. You’re an inspiration!”

Suddenly you felt extremely tired. You couldn't find the energy within  yourself to filter out and soften your next response, “Glad I could inspire you just by breathing I guess.” you gave the girls a slight smile as you shrugged, but the undertone of your comment had not gone unnoticed-- especially by Bakugou who found himself stifling a proud smirk.

You once again made eye contact with him in this moment-- this time not daring to backtrack your gaze until he did-- a warning sign to back he hell off with that staring shit.

As the night progressed you found yourself becoming more and more tired. The debilitating sense of sudden fatigue actually felt like it had taken over even your bones at this point as the aching structures weighed heavily inside of you skin. You decided after about an hour that you were gonna make an early trip back home.

“What, why!?” Deku scanned your face nervously-- he thought you had been having fun!

“Just really damn tired suddenly.”

“Oh...” he trailed off, but suddenly realized the hidden context of your words. Baby Notes vol 1 page 4 section 3: ‘prenatal fatigue’, “Ohhhhh okay! Right! Well Let me call you a taxi or something.”

“Nahh, I’ll walk,” you waved him off as you made your journey toward small crowds of his friends-- waving them goodbye. Deku followed you in your path around his house, 

“W-what? You can’t be serious! You shouldn’t do that!”

You turned around and threw your hand on his shoulder, causing him to instantly freeze up, “I’ll be fine,” you smirked throwing your hand up to his cheek to gently pat his face. Of course, he was left a shivering, blushing mess. It was a low blow, but, hey, it gave you a good opportunity to escape. 

You felt a wave of relief as soon as you made it a few steps outside of the apartment. You released a heavy sigh as you continued walking away. 

Finally. You internally planned the rest of the night in your head: orange juice, Netflix and sleeeep. You could finally just let yourself relax and--

“HEY!” you jumped out of your skin a little at the sudden loud shout. You whipped around to see that blond spikey-haired dude from Deku’s house attempting to close in on you. 

You rolled your eyes as he neared. Hardly throwing him a glance as he approached you to walk a little behind you, “God. You’re the weirdo that was staring at me all night,” you groaned, hoping he would catch your drift. 

“We need to talk!” 

One of you eyebrows instantly quirked up as your lips curled into a look of disgust. You whipped back around towards him, “Look, I am actually tired as hell, so excuse me for my bluntness, but FUCK OFF!” You only caught a glimpse of his flabbergasted expression before you spun back around to storm down the stairs entering the subway. 

“You really don’t know me?” he sounded pissed. 

That’s when it hit you. 

“Oh! it’s you!” you snapped your fingers at the sudden realization, 

“You’re Kacchan!” the look of disgust that hardened on his face intensified by ten fold when he heard you use that nickname. You continued regardless as you neared the train platform, “The asshole bully who likes to pick on quirkless kids. Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn how great you think you are, buddy. You can really fuck off now!” you spun once more to ditch him; however this time around your ankle twisted from underneath you, causing your body to fall down toward the ledge of the platform where underneath the tracks resided.

Bakugou cried out something like ‘you idiot!’ before grabbing you by the waist and yanking you into him before you could completely fall down the ledge. Everything happened so quickly that you hadn't even realized that you were holding your breath until you gasped heavily into his chest.

With a shocked expression you trailed up his neck to his face until you were met with his vermilion eyes, “Shit…” suddenly a wave of familiarity crashed into you. you breathed deeply, “I-It’s you...”

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Take Two (part 12)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Part 13: here?

..

Lewis clears his throat and Arthur glances away, searching the room for inspiration. Nothing comes to mind and they both shuffle about in awkward silence.

“Well,” Vivi starts, drawing out the word to break the stiff atmosphere, “This is nice. We’re all getting along and no one is mad at anyone.”

Lewis coughs, appearing somewhat guilty, “Yeah…ah… sorry about freaking you out back in the van. It must have been strange…to see me.” They’d definitely figured out that his alternate-version-Lewis had died in that cave. That was fine. As long as they never found out how Arthur had died then it was all fine. The only one to ever know would be Mystery and, going off experience, he knows Mystery can keep a secret.

“Not your fault,” Arthur is quick to reassure, “It was just… a shock.”

A spark of electricity emphasises the statement and Lewis blinks, surprised at the joke. It does help to lighten the mood somewhat.

Vivi lets out a snort, “Nice.”

“What can I say, there’s a whole field of electricity-related jokes.”

“Stop that,” She teases. Lewis's mouth twitches into a smile. Vivi seems to take that as a queue to elbow Lewis forward a few more steps so they are no longer standing in the doorway. As they inch their way into the room Arthur realises he has inadvertently drifted back into the far corner again.

“…I’m surprised my counterpart didn’t beat me to it,” he comments both to distract himself from his nerves and because he’s curious.  Vivi has already mentioned the other Arthur and, seeing as Lewis is very alive and acting normal, he wants to know how the younger Arthur is handling everything. Surely, if his younger self is alive and well, then he would have tested out a range of jokes by now, being stuck in the hospital and bored out of his brain.

The troubled expression on Lewis’s face and Vivi’s sigh has him thinking it might not be all sunshine and roses. What if the other him was sick and dying of an infection… or something worse! What if the reason this Lewis cared so much was because the other Arthur wasn’t long for this world and he needed a convenient Arthur replacement!

“He’s okay right?” He asks anxiously, trying not let the sudden paranoia overwhelm him. The other Arthur can’t die! If he did, then everything was for nothing.

“Oh, he’s doing fine, physically at least. He’s being discharged from hospital in a few days.”

He slumps with relief. “That’s good to hear.”

In his timeline he had spent almost a month in the hospital, fluctuating between catatonic and various states of panic. Then there had been another month of visiting every few days for therapy. He could see how, with the support of both Vivi and Lewis, this Arthur would be better equipped to bounce back from the horror that had been the cave. And yet…

“He’s been quieter…” Lewis mutters, scanning him, making Arthur twitch, “You know what’s bothering him?”

Damn. He had forgotten how perceptive Lewis was. He scans the other man, searching for the rage he knows isn’t there. All he sees is concern. Arthur frowns, turning his thoughts inward, trying to ignore Lewis’s presence. If his hazy memories from before the cave were accurate then this current Arthur was going through his weird ‘Vivi and Lewis don’t actually like me’ phase. All overdramatic nonsense in hindsight because it was pretty obvious, going off the affection in Lewis and Vivi’s voices, that they cared for their Arthur immensely. But, his younger, idiot self wouldn’t be picking up on that. He would probably notice if Lewis and Vivi starting keeping secrets.

“You told him what happened right?”

“…” The uncomfortable expressions worn by both Lewis and Vivi sits like a led stone in his non-existent stomach,

“…About what happened with the possession, mind control stuff? You told him about it right?” He continues, agitated.

“Ah. No. Not yet. He didn’t remember any of it when he woke up.”

“We thought it was better to let him recover a bit more,” Vivi finishes, before continuing cautiously, “Does he remember?”

“No. I mean, I didn’t…not at first. But trust me when I say that whatever conclusion he comes to won’t be good. He’s probably thinking it’s his fault or something. Don’t wait. Tell him. Tell him as soon as possible. It will help. ”

“We will,” Vivi placates, worried, “We wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“Good,” Arthur nods, happy he can save them- and his younger counterpart- this small amount of heartbreak.

Lewis, who has lapsed into contemplative silence gives an upset exhale. “It’s not your fault.”

Arthur freezes.

“Lewis…” Vivi tries to intersect but Lewis continues.

“You said Arthur would blame himself…Well, it’s not your fault either. Whatever happened before, in that other time, I’m sure I didn’t blame you.”

Crack. The electricity around him buzzes, sizzling, agitated. It feels like his whole head is filling with cotton, muffling his thoughts. Slowly, he processes the words, staring at Lewis. At his concerned expression. At his sympathy.

The regret, which had been sitting at the back of his mind in a haze of static, ramps up, drowning out Lewis’s confused follow-up question

“Arthur?” Vivi also questions, noticing him freeze.

“Stay back,” he snaps, more for his benefit than worry for her safety. That intense emotional pressure is back and growing steadily stronger. Lightning flashes and his whole form flickers. The desk lamp sparks then explodes like the ceiling light. The air crackles angrily.

There is a flash of red and the sound of books and furniture being knocked over as Mystery’s kitsune form fills up the room, forcing Vivi and Lewis away. Next comes the unpleasant sensation of having his heart-thing yanked and sudden loss of his solid human-like form.

“Mystery! What are you doing?”

/Apologies. I will return shortly./

“Where are you go….”

Arthur becomes vaguely aware of space moving around him. Vivi’s frustrated voice is lost in the quick movement as Arthur is whisked away through the window. Houses, pavement and streets flash by. A second later, they stop. Mystery plonks him down and Arthur reforms so he is floating outside amidst low growing shrub and patches of cactus. The horizon is empty and flat plain in all directions.

It happens almost too fast to process and Arthur spends a second staring at it in confusion before the pressure becomes too much and he explodes. The sudden release of compressed energy ripples around him in a shockwave. Now he is no longer in Vivi’s room he doesn’t have to worry about breaking things. Crack. Long lines of jagged yellow lightning tear the earth up in long groves.

Why?

Whywhywhywhywhy.

Why did it end up like this!

Under him, the ground glows, superheated where the lightning strikes it. Several potions of dirt and sand solidify into a glass-like substance.

Why couldn’t this be his! WHY! Why is he still here!?

Bright white and yellow electricity arcs up into the sky like a lightning bolt in reverse, exploding into a shower of sparks. Arthur doesn’t even bother trying to real the power in, letting it run wild until he’s floating in the middle of a blackened circle. Serrated, upturned earth and shards of that glass-like substance surround him, leaving Arthur feeling hollowed out and increasingly tired.  Eventually, he runs out of juice and the electricity splutters out. A familiar heavy sensation descends upon him and he finds himself lying on his back staring up at a pale, slowly darkening sky. 

“I’m a hazard,” he mumbles. All that work Vivi did in proving that he was safe to be around and he went and did that. Honestly, he shouldn't be surprised that he messed up. 

/If it is any consolation, I believe it went quite well. Better than expected./ And Arthur thought his expectations were low.

“Lewis and Vivi probably hate me now.”

/I very much doubt that./ Mystery’s elongated fox snout appears above him to block out the sky, head cocked to the side. Arthur twitches in unease, leaning away.  

Mystery shakes his head, taking is Arthurs discomfort with a concerned frown and backing up. /How do you feel?/

“Terrible. All I had to do was keep it together for one measly conversation.” He wants to go to sleep and never wake up. The air shimmers as Mystery transforms back into his dog form.

/The fact that you seem instinctually disinclined to injure Vivi and Lewis is significant. I have never personally witnessed a ghost with that level of control./

“Nice to know I’m clearing the lowest of bars,” he mutters, struggling against the unnatural weight to sit up.  Mystery watches, maintaining a respectful distance. Arthur examines his soundings to avoid eye contact, moodily poking a piece of solidified ground. Maybe it’s the sudden exhaustion, but all that pain and grief seems barely noticeable. Now he’s not around Lewis all that turbulent emotion has settled back into a familiar buzz of regret.

“So…what now?” What were they going to do now? Go back to Vivi’s house? Apologise for almost destroying her room? She was probably worried. He glances up at Mystery, uncertain. 

A long exhale follows, /It has come to my attention that I may have been overly presumptuous in our first meeting and caused some unneeded stress. I have since been informed on the importance of ‘bedside manners’ and ‘taking things slow’ in aiding a human’s mental recovery./

Was it him or did Mystery look a whole lot more unsure than was normal?

“Yeah, well, better safe than sorry,” he responds, unsure where the sudden admission has sprung from. It kind of sounds like an apology, maybe? Not that he thinks Mystery has much to be sorry about. Sure, Arthur’s not thrilled with some of Mystery’s poking and prodding but it is to protect Vivi and that’s a pretty good justification.

/True...However, I believe I could have been less…/ The dog pauses as if searching for a word, /pushy…/

Arthur would be frowning, you know, if he had a face. “Don’t worry about it?”

Mystery gives a curt nod like they’ve just settled some sort of disagreement. Arthur goes back to examining the destruction around him.

“I don’t want to explode again. Is this going to happen every time to feel any sort of strong emotion?” Gosh, that would suck.  Unsteadily, Arthur struggles back into a standing position.

/All part of the learning curb I am afraid. There is a lot of hard work ahead before you attain any sort of stability./

Arthur sighs, “Yeah I figured. But I‘ll get better right?” 

Mystery hums, scanning him up and down, /I believe so. Of course, it is always hard to be certain, but your chances are.../ A pause /optimistic./

Arthur lets himself feel a small amount of relief.

/For now we shall return. Both Lewis and Vivi will most likely be worried and have a few choice words to say about me running off in such a hurry./

“Do you think I can go back into the heart thing…I’m beat and that grabbing thing you did was…really uncomfortable.” He reaches up to cover his heart again, eyeing Mystery for any sudden movements.  A few hours or ‘recharging’ sounds pretty good. This isn’t running away! He’ll apologise to Vivi and Lewis later when he has more energy. Now he knows that Vivi - and maybe Lewis- does care about his wellbeing, dissipating back into the void doesn’t feel like he’s completely giving up. The change is subtle but no less important.

Mystery apparently thinks so too, because he easily offers the information without any further warnings, /Simply envision yourself sleeping or resting. The process should be instinctual./

“Right…” That sounded simple enough. Arthur thinks of his van back home in his own timeline. He thinks of curing up in the back with Vivi, sleeping bags next to each other, isolated on a stretch of unnamed highway in the middle of nowhere. A safe place, away from everything. He must be more tired than he thought because the world around him disintegrates into comforting darkness.

.

NOTE: I’m not dead, just super busy. 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Favored Ones, Part 4. (Joel Miller x Fem!reader)

Description: When you spend every evening with someone who's deeply under your skin, a certain relationship can be developed. So it's crushing for Joel when Y/N suddenly disappears. But there's way more to the relationship that one would've guessed.

A/N: I enjoyed myself in this chapter bcs I'm secretly in love with both Ellie and Joel.

A/N 2: Sorry for bigger mistakes than usual, but my Grammarly is acting like a fucking jackass and it fucked up my mood.

Warnings: ELLIE BEING THE QUEER EMOTIONAL SUPPORT YOU FUCKING NEED IN UR LIFE.

Word count: 1.8 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​

If you like this story, please, more parts can be found here! :): H E R E

Two weeks before events of the hunt, November 2038:

You felt like dying for a few days straight, you only laid in your bed, staring into the ceiling, feeling hurt like fuck. You wanted to stop crying, but you couldn't bring yourself to act like the adult you should be.

Dina and Ellie, of course, took notice of your behavior and that you were missing at the dinner table for the last four days. You must've been starving when the two visited you with a plate of goulash with potatoes and deer meat which was crushed to small pieces.

"Foooood delivery!" - Dina stepped into your room dramatically with a laugh, making a diva pose. But then she stopped and her jaw dropped when she saw you laying in bed like a dead body. Your nose was full, sou it was hard to understand you.

"I hant to be ahone. Go ahay." - You cried out and turned on your second side. It still hurt so much and you were afraid that you would meet him if you would find the courage to go out. Dina slowly approached your bed and smoothed your leg. Ellie put your goulash on the table and sat on the chair close to your bed to smooth your hair. At least you took showers because you smell nice and your hair was still soft, not even a bit greasy.

"Baby. You're scaring the shit out of us. Why don't you come to have dinner with us? We miss your jokes and dickness." - Ellie tried to make you laugh, but you just exhaled out loud.

"Yeah. Nobody's keeping Jesse's ego down, so he's a fucking narcissist now. I can't listen to a fucking word he says. He went fucking wild since nobody's taming him down." - Dina took Ellie's side and both of them chuckled. - "Come on, you little shithead. Eat a bit."

And so, you sat up and began to a bit. Dina sat on your right side and Ellie was cuddling to your left side, none of them leaving you before you ate the whole plate. Dina stood up after that, taking the plate out of your palms.

"I will bring it back to the dining hall and I have a meeting with Jesse after that. I think that you'll talk about your problems though, darlings." - She smoothed your hair and kissed your forehead. That made you smile a bit, but even though you were a bit cold and pale. Ellie still snuggled your side, smiling at Dina, mouthing a silent thank you. Dina left without any other word.

"Okay. Spill the tea. What's wrong?" - Ellie laid her head on your lap so you were looking down into her eyes. She smiled as your fingers gently played with her ginger hair.

"I don't want to talk about that, Ellie." - You closed your eyes and leaned the back of your head onto the wall.

"Please, baby, you don't want to talk about something? That ain't you at all." - She smiled and her fingers brushed on yours. Ellie was always gentle with you because you were her first friend in Jackson County. She loved you like her step-sister, she knew she can be who she really is when she had you around - that one nineteen-year-lesbian with the cheesiest jokes you had ever heard. And that was why you were terrified to tell her.

Joel was basically her dead.

"It's pretty personal for me. It hurts. I'm not ready." - You whispered to her and felt as your eyes were in flames from constant crying. You couldn't even cry anymore, you barely went on a toilet to pee and your head was hurting like fuck.

"Y/N, trust me. We can talk about your situation." - Ellie sat quickly and smiled at you. She gently held your palm in hers and her green eyes made eye contact with yours. She was a gentle and dumb lesbian. You loved her. Ellie was always honest and nice to you - like your little personal angel. - "So start talking before I'll smack it out of your stupid ass."

Maybe it would help to tell her, she could help you with the situation. She could give some good reasoning, some tips, and tricks or just tell you that you're a dumb bitch. Anything would be great at the moment.

"Well-I-told-your-old-man-what-I-was-feeling-for-him-and-he-turned-me-down." - You said at the pace of the fastest animal on the planet, so Ellie rose her eyebrows as she watched you. She knew perfectly what you've said, but she wanted to hear it again.

"What have you done?" - She held your palm tighter and her palm was a bit sweaty. What the fuck should she tell you? Holy fuck, she was fucking panicking.

"I found out I had feelings for Joel and I told him... And he told me he doesn't do these things. He just blatantly turned everything down and I... Just can't." - You started to cry again even if you felt like your eyes were on fire. That could be understood, you were heartbroken for the first time - not like the first time ever, but this felt so real for the first time ever.

"Oh, baby girl. Come here, come on..." - Ellie whispered with a sad voice and she didn't have to repeat herself since you basically threw your head into her left boob. She cuddled you in and kissed the temple of your head. She nor your other friends would've guessed that you maybe felt for that old jackass. It was an unpleasant surprise - not like they would not happy if you two ended up together, but Ellie knew Joel.

He was a tough nut to crack

And she was partially stressed. What should she do to help you? She brought your head to her lips once again.

"Okay. I'll tell you something too..." - She smiled and let you sit, drying your tears off your cheeks. - "It's extremely cringy as well, so I hope that I'll make you laugh at least a bit." - She shrugged her shoulders so you knew that she'll be extremely uncomfortable during your conversation. Ellie was always shrugging when she wasn't comfortable. You tried to smile, but in combination with your teary eyes, it made an extremely cringe-worthy face.

"I fell in love with Dina." - Ellie sighed. From moment to moment, you forgot that Joel said that he simply doesn't do those things. Holy fucking shit. You were really aware of Ellie being a lesbian, and Dina was a really nice girl, but some plot twists were just random and unexpected. - "It's crazy, but it happened some time ago and since that, I'm just crazy about that girl. She says something and I need to breathe out because I would jump her bones right on the spot."

You opened up your eyes and your lips parted when you tried to understand the situation. But it was somehow impossible and your brain was not comprehending with your mind at all. Ellie and Dina.

Okay. You somehow got over Dina and Jesse over time, even if it was strange to see the two people you knew since they were little kids to grow into two human beings who were able to have a grown-up relationship. Strange and surreal.

But Dina and Ellie? No. Stop yourself. It wasn't a sure thing. But still... Ellie having feelings for Dina, that was fucking will and beyond your wildest dreams. It was enough to make you completely forget about Joel.

Dina and Ellie.

"Oh, my dear motherfucking God." - You whispered and Ellie shrugged again. But then she smiled, rose her eyebrows and smiled without any other words to say.

"See? That's the Y/N I know. Oh my dear motherfucking God indeed." - Ellie sat next to you and leaned into the wall, looking in front of herself. - "I love to see you smiling again. My lovely heterosexual wife, who's clearly into gross old men." - Ellie nudged your shoulder playfully. You opened your mouth and started to squeal by laughter.

"Sorry not sorry, but Joel is a fucking sex bomb." - You sighed and leaned your temple into her shoulder.

"So I think that you agree that we need a fucking plan." - Ellie gave you a completely serious look. - "Because I need to tell Dina and you need to show that old dipshit what he's losing. We don't know if you'll be able to make a move, but we need to show him. Kick his ass, show him."

"So the plan is to make Dina fucking break up with Jesse and that you'll have sex that night, but nobody's caring about me or my vanana? I'm fucking touched." - You sighed dramatically even though you still had teary eyes. Your broken heart still hurt, but Ellie's trouble made you at least smile and joke around.

"I'm thinking about your vanana as much as I think about your heart, dear. What about Philip? He's nice, young and he likes you." - She asked completely serious. Okay, she and Joel were a complete match like father and daughter.

"Philip? Really? You and Joel are one person in two bodies. He thought that I'm after Philip as well. I'm not into the fisherman's son at all, no matter how many girls are into him." - You stood up and decided to change clothes. You needed to get off that one small room. At least on a small walk.

"But what if you were?" - Ellie screamed and stood up, her brain almost exploding with sudden inspiration. She took your naked shoulders while you stood in front her only in your bra. - "That is the fucking question. What if you were?"

"You are a fucking psycho, Ellie." - You put her hands off your shoulders, so you could put on at least your sweater on.

"No, you fucking idiot. Listen to a word I'm saying." - Ellie sat on your table while you changed into your jeans. - "Old man thinks that you're into Philip. But you told him that you're into him. So we'll play a little mind game." - Ellie started to giggle as playfully swung her feet.

"A mind game. With Joel fucking Miller? You're a fucking savage." - You chuckled, putting your hiking boots on. You felt much, much better.

"Missy, you don't know Joel Miller the way I do. I will make him come and you'll dance with Philip. Make Joel feel what an ass he had lost by his dickish behavior." - She laughed loudly and waited for you to come after her into the cold night.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 30: Club S

Lu opened the door for me. He’d cleaned up the living room. Everything smelled nice. He was still in his Cassell uniform. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just water is fine. Have you swept this place for bugs? I don’t trust, Fingel.”

“I wouldn’t ordinarily… But Johann came over and got him and dragged him off for some reason. We’re probably good if he’s keeping him busy.” He raised a pitcher and poured me a glass of water.

“Wow, water with lemon? You’re pulling out all the stops for me today.”

“Well, I really… appreciate this day… I have a lot to get off  my chest and I’m sure you do too.”

I accepted the water and he sat next to me, throwing one arm over the couch. “Do you wanna start or…?”

“You go first… you’re my senior.”

Master List

He took a deep breath, his eyes growing distant. He then turned to me. “When I first came here, I was just like you. I had no idea what the hell…” His smile appeared and died as soon as it did. “I came in as they were in the middle of Day of Liberty.  They were using bullets with that red stuff that freaked you out, remember?”

I quickly swallowed my sip of water, eyes wide. 

“I thought everyone was dying around me. I saw Nono get shot and… I lost it.” He turned away, licking his lips. “I took the first gun next to me… and I just shot the person who shot her. Took her gun and blew both Caesar and Johann away.”

I was frozen in shock. “You tried to kill them?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah, I was serious. I don’t think… well, maybe Johann figured but… I don’t think they ever knew how much I wanted them to die at that moment.”

My jaw shook as he watched him run his hand through his hair. “So I know that feeling, you got.” His brown eyes shifted to mine. “With Isaac. And with his friends.”

I started to shake all over. “You knew? You knew this whole time? How?”

“Just a gut feeling. No one feels as sorry as you did over a monster. Isaac’s friends disappeared at the same time as he did. He was never without them. I just put two and two together with my own experiences. The only difference between you and I is that… you were working with live ammunition.”

“So… I wanna start out by saying that.. Even though technically, I didn’t kill your boyfriend… In my mind? I’ve been carrying around that reality where I did. So I understand.”

I buried my face in my hands. He reached over to rub my back. “Carli, we just got started, don’t fall apart yet!” 

My sobbing was so loud that I’m sure someone heard it. Someone had to. I pulled my knees up to my face and rocked back and forth.

“Shit.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Shh… come on… It’s okay. I know you’ve been carrying that around with you all this time… same as me. I get it.”

I couldn’t stop no matter how much I wanted to. His gentle, kind and sincere understanding just made it worse. I had no idea how I would ever stop crying now. Just looking at him, his tears, set me off again. But he didn’t panic. In fact, he smiled a little.

“Sometimes, I wish I could cry like you.”

It was exhausting.

He again chuckled. “So that’s one…” 

I couldn’t help but laugh with him, even though it sounded more like another breathless sob.

“Ready for number two?”

“I don’t know… is it worse?” I looked at him, “Seriously?”

“I ...Maybe? Maybe worse for me.” He stood up and left to go to his bedroom. While he was gone I covered my face again, trying to get a hold of my breathing. But trying to calm down just made me sad again.

He came back with a small cardboard box that said “Baseball cards” on it. “These aren’t baseball cards.”

He opened it up. He pulled out a picture. “This is Ronald Tang. We played Starcraft together a lot. He went to Cassell.”

The person looked to be in his thirties with auburn hair and a friendly smile. “He looks really nice.”

“He was a dragon. I didn’t know it… he didn’t know either.”

“He… he looks like a normal person.” I looked up at him in confusion.

“Dragons can take the shape of humans. They often do. It’s part of how they escape detection. He was part of a set of twins in an egg that hatched under Three Gorges Dam in China. When they discovered the egg and brought it here, Old Tang got exposed to it, regained his memories and turned into Norton.”

“He’s Norton?!” He wasn’t just a dragon. He was one of the Four Lords! My memories of the ballet I performed rushed back to me. The fiery red costume of the Lord of Bronze and Fire was always a hit with audiences.

“Was.”

That single word brought me back to reality.

“By the time I realized that it was him. I’d already…” He hung his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Anjou knew. Because he was a student.” He massaged his temple. “No one else does. I didn’t have a chance to even try to save him. My friends were in danger and I just thought… I have to kill this dragon. So...”

“This is… Xiao Mi… or Shavee as we called her some times.” He pulled out another picture. “Johann really liked her. But…”

“She was a dragon…” I finished the sentence. “The second dragon lord you killed. The one that almost killed Johann… I recognize her face from the vision...”

“What vision?”

He handed me the picture when I reached for it. “When I was dying on the mountainside. I saw your memories. I … saw what she did to him.”

“What?” His face contorted with confusion. 

“I don’t quite understand it either, but it was like… our souls were speaking to each other.” I stared at the picture.

He looked at the far wall. “Oh… okay.”

“I wanted to stay dead. You didn’t let me. When I woke up. My wounds had healed.” I looked up at him.

He was nervously chuckling and stammered. “Wow! I uh… I wasn’t exactly… planning on telling you that.”

“Your dragon gift? That was it, wasn’t it? You just told me not to die… and I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Why don’t you use that more often?”

“Because of blowback.” He replied. “There’s a principle in dragon gifts that, the higher level the skill is, the more likely consequences will blow back into your face. Nono’s skills are very high. I have never seen her use them. She’s afraid to.”

“The consequences are worse than death?” I asked.

“Probably not. So… you must have really been about to die for me to use it. I don’t… I don’t even remember.”  He stared into space.

“You… didn’t trade a quarter of your life for me… did you?”

“AH! How do you know about that?!” He clutched the sides of his head, completely mortified.

“I had visions I said! Some kid told me you had to give up a quarter of you- Mmf!” He covered my mouth with his hand.

“SHH!” 

There were voices in the hall. He sat still until they receded. “Okay…” He pressed his palms together in front of his face. “Okay… Don’t… EVER mention that again. Okay? Not even between us. I cannot afford anyone to know.”

He turned from me and leaned his elbows against his knees, rubbing his face with his hands. I chewed my lip. “If they found out… I would never be allowed on these missions again. And my friends would absolutely die. Nono almost died, Caesar almost died… Johann… if I hadn’t traded my life, they wouldn’t be here.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Oh… no…”

“What?” My hands were balled into shaking fists in my lap.

“Why did he even talk to you?”

“You were unconscious. It was the only way we were getting out.”

“Nobody was supposed to know that. It’s not your fault. He just… blew our cover. Thanks… jerk…” He grumbled.

My whole body was humming with stress and anxiety. I was getting a headache. “I think maybe we should stop…”

“Yeah I agree. Pizza should be here any minute.” He rested his chin on his hand. “You look like a mess.”

“I am a mess.”

He took a breath. “I’m sorry … about your mom.”

“You had to… Or I would have…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’m not one hundred percent certain it was really her …”

He expression didn’t change. “Yeah, you are.”

I settled against the couch. “But she… her body...”

“Like I said, dragons can look human. You’re the first direct descendent I’ve ever met. Are you really from thousands of years ago?”

My jaw dropped and I eyed him in confusion. “No my mom’s n…” I stopped myself, gasping.

“You’re a hybrid. Your mom was a dragon. Carli?” He reached over and shook my shoulder. “Hey! Snap out of it!”

It was impossible. My dad was a dragon, not my mom… my mom wasn’t… my eyes were wide and vacant as I remembered. Her yellow eyes bored into my memory. Her claws.

She had claws.

“Snap out of it!”

If my mom was a dragon and my dad was a dragon… then that meant.

“Oh damn it!”

Pain exploded in my head. My hand flew to my cheek. “Owwww!”

“You weren’t breathing! You weren’t breathing.” Mingfei grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

I cringed away. “That really hurt!”

“I’m sorry! I thought you were going to pass out! Johann’s going to kill me.”

“Yeah he is!” I yelled at him. “Especially if that shows up tomorrow, you idiot!”

There was a knock on the door. “Ah geez.” He got up to go get it.

I glanced to the wall. Ielia had appeared. She was making emphatic gestures, shaking her head. 

I nodded in understanding. My mom wasn’t a dragon… and neither was I. Ielia vanished.

He returned to me with the box of pizza and paused. I was still holding my face. “Do you need some ice?”

“You know, I was going to invite you to my club.” I grumbled.

“You started a club?!”

“I said I would! So we can have these conversations. But I’m not going to put up with you knocking me around.”

“Okay… sorry…”

“This isn’t a movie… God…” I slowly started to calm down.

He settled back next to me. “Let me see it.”

I lowered my hand, still grumbling. “If it bruises, it won’t show up for a while… I started the club because I really want to have a safe place to share these things. I think that would be good for you too.”

“I… panicked.” His eyes dulled. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever… forget it.”

“Well… if the offer is still open then… sure. I don’t like Student Union anyway.”

“You’re in the Student Union! When was this?!”

“How did you not know that? I joined a few days after I enrolled!” He laughed, serving me a slice. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking to Caesar about anything we do or say.”

“You spy…” I lightly shoved him. “I wanted you to join so that I could use Norton hall as a base.”

“Wow… are you trying to piss him off?”

“Maybe? He deserves it. I don’t care what anyone else says… he’s responsible for what his club members do.” I took a bite of pizza. 

“No arguments from me there. Well… let’s play games. Street Thug?” He was trying to change the subject.

I chuckled, I would have to let him off the hook. Still massaging my cheek, I nodded. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

[commander-daine]

*wrings hands in glee* human asks; 4, 5, 6, 13, 16. Other one; 6, 16, 22, 23, 26, 28/29, 35, 50. TELL ME EVERYTHING.

4. Do they have any strong ties with their heritage?

Yes! She’s part-Canthan, obviously from several generations back. That side of her family landed in Lion’s Arch in 1128 AE, having left not long after the Canthan Emperor Usoku started being an isolationist and xenophobic prick. Her ancestors were members of the Kurzick House zu Heltzer that were dissatisfied with the way the nation was controlled under the Ministry of Purity. They intermarried with the locals, mostly Krytans, and the family spread out from there.

Her family didn’t live in the Canthan District (dodged a bullet there), so they still have their old heirlooms, including a few zu Heltzer poetry scrolls. Canthan is a fairly dead language on mainland Tyria since there are no newcomers that speak it, but she could hold a brief, basic conversation in it if needed. Old Canthan glyphs are something else entirely - she knows around 100 of them, mostly basic things like numbers, the elements, some basic objects, etc. but honestly she’s not sure how much they’d even be used in Cantha nowadays, assuming it still exists.

She also has a carved mandarin duck made of Echovald Forest wood, and it holds a special place in her heart.

5. Describe their childhood.

Her parents owned a large tailor shop with a top floor that served as a residence for the family. She has a brother that’s older than her by several years and was already being trained to do basic tailoring tasks when she was born. They were a rarity among rarities - a happy, functional family. 

Despite owning a local business, her parents were often away for long periods, which should have given away that something was up. But Daine was young enough that she thought their excuses about traveling long distances for exotic fabrics were legit. It turns out they were Shining Blade agents and got themselves killed, and that’s influenced some key opinions of hers rather drastically down the line.

The childhood itself was mostly a medley of playing with kids in Salma District, going to basic education classes, spending time with her family, learning to tailor, and being ecstatic when her parents returned home for a while. Her brother still runs and lives in the tailor shop, along with his husband.

6. Do they feel particularly blessed by one of the Six?

She’s closest to Dwayna, being most in-tune with lightning and air, but she’s always felt fairly distant from the Gods. After the whole fiasco with Balthazar, her opinion of Dwayna went from “thanks for the air magic” to “please keep your idiot pantheon in line.”

Ironically, she would have been a Dervish in another life, and a Ritualist in yet another. It all came down to the time and place she was born.

13. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

Usually, no. Sometimes she’d rather be in a different universe entirely. When she decided she wanted to ‘help people’ she didn’t mean she wanted to be a hero a la sagas and epics. She’s been responsible for more death than she can ever absolve, no matter how much good she does. Her dream was to fight evils the size of the Nightmare Court and such (quantifiable, and making an impact on the world) as opposed to leading people into fights with forces of nature that are almost guaranteed to kill them all.

But if you asked her, she’s not sure what she’d rather be doing. A tailor’s life would be rather boring after all of her misadventures, and pure domesticity isn’t in her blood.

16. What’s their love life like, if they have one?

It’s changed from “happily single” to “wakes up with spikes stuck in sensitive places and is pleasantly surprised that Canach is still there to grumble at about it.” It takes a while for this to happen, and the process is far too long to describe in a post.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Daine went through public school in Divinity’s Reach, and she was an obnoxiously good student without ever worrying about studying. History was her favorite subject aside from the more specialized classes that taught her beginning elementalist magic. Thankfully she wasn’t required to stay in classes that didn’t interest her past her earlier school years (which were sort of a trial run to assess kids’ talents) so there aren’t classes she can say she ‘hated.’

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

No real time and place to collect anything right now, but if some twist of fate leads to a retirement, she’d love to have a duck pond that includes a pair of Canthan Mandarins among other breeds.

22. What are their favorite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

She’s most likely to complain quietly to friends, but gods help you if you tick her off in-person by being incompetent or stubborn. She’s sarcastic and biting with her words if confronted directly, and people are often left reeling after a sudden confrontation with the ‘cute’ commander.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

Above average with facts and statistics, around average with names and faces. She tries her best to associate them since they’re individual people that matter to her, but she can’t remember them all and that’s just another thing to feel guilty about when they eventually die under her command.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

It depends who she’s around - among bigger groups of soldiers she tries to appear serious and hide her emotions most of the time, but will let positivity show via smiles and laughter and gentle teasing. In smaller guild groups and in her alone time she sometimes sways/rocks in her seat and hums happily to herself.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Her biggest fear should, theoretically, be something like “Tyria exploding” or “failing to neutralize a dragon” or “dying in the line of battle.” But the thing that wakes her up at night is the thought of having to kill Canach.

Because she knows, from personal experience, what it’s like to look directly into the eyes of a beloved sylvari as you skewer them on a sword. And Trahearne was just a friend; with Canach as her lover, and given her newfound expertise with a blade, just how much more visceral would it be?

She wakes up to panic attacks from related nightmares, and although he’s sometimes there to see them, she’s on the fence about letting him know. It’s a lot more openly emotional of a topic than they usually touch.

In general, the thought of ‘nothing’ terrifies her. Having no friends, no talents, no powers, no sense of time or space. She’s not a huge fan of the Mists, which is ironic because they contain a lot of Thing™, but so much of it is empty that it might as well be a void if you’re dropped in at random. She respects Rytlock a lot for dealing with that.

And how does she act when she’s scared? Brusque, at first. A “no time to waste, let’s get in, take care of it, and get out” attitude. Puts on a mask, because she’s the Commander and she has to. But if it’s a longer lasting scenario she’d be clumping around friends and getting quiet, overthinking things. If she was still anxious when away from friends, she’d probably go back to her tent and cry herself to sleep if it was really bad. She’s bad with stress. And she deals with a lot of stress.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?

Depends on the severity. For something small, there could be some teasing. For bigger issues, she’d support them through it and be fairly protective if they were pushed unnecessarily in regards to it.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

Guilty pleasure: She once bought a multi-colored melon from the Choya in Pricklepatch Hollow and ate the whole thing in one sitting. They’re excellent, sweet without being overpowering or too watery, but she’s not sure how she’d explain purchasing and consuming what appears to be something’s kin.

Unguilty pleasure: twisting wire into pretty shapes and running electricity through it. It’s a soothing form of artistic expression and stress relief. Sometimes there are variations like lightly burning/engraving/frost-etching patterns onto wood/stone/metal, but air is her favored element to play with in general.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

Fairly standard stuff - some rations and food, maps of the area and a compass, a basic med kit, a journal and pencils, a change of clothes, a blanket/bedroll, and a towel. 

[sinrau]

https://link.medium.com/QRy3bhZaj8

New Zealand declared victory over Coronavirus yesterday. “Team New Zealand,” as Kiwis refer to themselves, celebrated having a virus free country. America, on the other hand, had close to 70,000 cases. Seventy thousand — and exploding.

What the American Idiot has done to America is to make it an impoverished country. Not just any kind of poverty — what you might call deep poverty. Let me explain.

New Zealand has zero new cases of Corona. In America, they’re spinning out of control. One way to think about it is to say that your chances of dying of this lethal pandemic are now…infinitely higher in America than in New Zealand. Compared to Europe and Canada, they’re about a hundred times higher.

That’s a kind of poverty, too. A poverty of public health. Americans have spent decades being impoverished of public health by the American Idiot — the kind of person who votes against better healthcare for everyone, including themselves, their kids, their parents. What the? What kind of idiot does that? A very, very large number of Americans.

The result of that attitude was a society poor in a gruesome and strange way — poor in public health itself. What I mean by that is that American life expectancy is the lowest in the rich world, and plummeting, that Americans have the highest rates of all kinds of preventable chronic diseases, from diabetes to obesity to heart disease. You can see it on American faces, in fact: a society poor in health is a society of unhealthy people.

We expect much, much poorer societies to be impoverished in public health. It’s a strange concept to have to think about precisely because we don’t expect it of a rich country. Perhaps one of a poor one, that’s never really developed at all. This is a syndrome unique to America — a form of poverty that Europeans and Canadians struggle to understand, because, well, they’ve mostly eliminated it. But in America, health poverty is endemic.

So endemic that you can see America’s gotten shockingly poorer and poorer in health — right down to the resurgence of old, conquered diseases, from measles to mumps. Again, that’s the work of the American Idiot — the kind of person who won’t vaccinate their kids, which is an idea that in the end takes society right back to the medieval days of endemic smallpox and polio.

So what was going to happen when a society impoverished in terms of health met a pandemic? Utter catastrophe. America’s mortality rate and infection rate are so high precisely because America was a time bomb of failing public health waiting to go off.

What then are the results of creating a society impoverished in public health? Well, Americans face a gruesome choice that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the rich world, even in much of the poor one: your money or your life. “Medical bankruptcy” is the result — I put in quotes because it’s a notion that scarcely exists elsewhere.

How did all that happen?

Americans are culturally impoverished, too. The American Idiot has turned American culture into the one of the world’s regressive, short-sighted, narrow-minded, and, well…idiotic. Literally the tiniest shreds of decency and sanity come under a murderous, withering barrage of denial and false “debate” — from things as simple as wearing masks to ones as large as educating Americans about how the rest of the rich world and even the poor one now has vastly better functioning societies.

Huge chunks of American culture are so hateful, foolish, or bizarre that they’d be either illegal, laughable, or bewildering in much of the rest of the world, from Canada, Europe, or Asia. “Debating” whether the answer to school shootings — which happen nowhere else — is to arm teachers? The idea that billionaires are somehow good for society, or that things like healthcare, retirement, pensions, income, and safety aren’t human rights? That money is all that should matter? Nearly everyone else in the world finds such notions jaw-droppingly foolish by now, which is how the American Idiot made his country a laughingstock the world over.

The point of a Culture of Idiocy, of course, is to create idiots, and American Culture is the cradle and mothers’ milk of the American Idiot. From Tucker Carlson to Bill O’Reilly to Ancient Aliens, an impoverished culture keeps Americans ignorant, pliable, submissive, and frightened.

Tucker will fill your head with misinformation, and the reality TV will make it seem normal to be an idiot. The result of cultural impoverishment, though, is that Americans they stay poor in more visible, visceral ways — like poor in healthcare, in equality, in power, in money.

But also poor in time. That’s my next dimension of poverty. Americans can’t do much to change their society — not nearly enough — because they’re time poor. They work harder than anyone else in the rich world, by a very, very long way. Taking a vacation in America is something that mostly, you’ll get fired for. Commuting three hours a day? That’s your problem. Americans have no time — and they don’t quite understand yet that that’s a deep form of poverty. Because when you’re always running out of time, when do you save, invest, educate, reflect, or just have a decent life? You don’t. You’re always weary, tired, panicked, on a hair trigger, and eventually, you go numb.

That brings me to the next kind of poverty — emotional poverty. Americans live severely impoverished emotional lives. America consistently ranks as a much, much unhappier country than Scandinavia, and falling. It’s among the angriest place and most stressed out place in the world.

Backing all that up, rates of depression have soared way, way past global norms, suicides are skyrocketing, and hopelessness and despair are endemic, too.

Imagine that you live a life of financial poverty, time poverty, and public health poverty, like most Americans do. What kind of life is that, emotionally? A poor one. It’s full of nights where you can’t sleep, wondering how to pay the bills. It’s riddled with anxiety and panic. Uncontrollable thoughts race through the mind. Pretty soon, you’re like, well, most Americans: angry, stressed out, depressed. No matter how hard you work, you never seem to able to make ends meet. You never have enough time to spend with your loved ones — or just relaxing, or learning something new. But those are the greatest sources of happiness of all. Is it any wonder Americans are miserable and furious, mostly, then?

The American Idiot made all that happen, too. Who votes, again and again, for no real mental healthcare? In America, you can get medicated— the lowest cost answer, or you can get “therapy.” But getting proper mental healthcare, the way you can in Europe or Canada — careful, long-term psychotherapy? That doesn’t exist at all in America, outside maybe a handful of major cities.

The American Idiot responded, instead, to life becoming a nightmare of dystopian stress, misery, and anger, with something else. With rage. With hate. With the cruelty and brutality that have made America a laughingstock the world over. Why does the American Idiot deny everyone — including themselves — better incomes, healthcare, retirement, pension, more time to have a decent life? Because they’ve internalized the notion that nobody has any intrinsic worth. And therefore, everybody must be a vicious competitor, fighting everyone else off, for a morsel of basics, whether jobs, healthcare, pensions, and so on.

But these are things that when people cooperate — as they do in Canada and Europe — they can simply give each other.

Never mind. The American Idiot — led off a cliff by greater fools, like Tucker Carlson and Donald Trump — believes that the only way out of an abusive society is to be a bigger, hungrier, more vicious predator.

But all that happens that way is that society implodes into a spectacular orgy of self-destruction, and becomes an unlivable place, because unbelievable cruelty to the rest of the world becomes the norm — like letting kids be shot at school, in indifference to life which culminates, ultimately, in the mass death of a virus.

All that brings me to another kind of poverty: one we don’t yet have a good name for. A poverty of trust, of goodness, of decency. Americans are impoverished in this deep way, which I can put most simply and accurately by saying that they seem to genuinely hate each other. It’s not nice living in a society of people who hate each other. A society of hateful people can’t ever cooperate to accomplish anything, whether beating a deadly pandemic, or creating a better future by investing together in schools, hospitals, ideas, research, accomplishments.

Now, I don’t mean that you hate anyone. I mean it in a more technical way, one that’s almost invisible in America, because like air, it’s just the atmosphere that surrounds everyone. What else, though, can it really be called, when some large number of Americans deny, over and over, everyone else the right to have healthcare? An education? A job with decent standards? Free time? A rising income? A democracy?

You only do those things if you hate people. Yes, really hate them. I would never deny you healthcare, goes the sentiment in Europe and Canada, where even the hard right wing isn’t against basic public goods. American Idiots will deny their own kids and parents decent lives, though.

The only accurate word to describe such a sentiment is hate — because when you deny someone the basics, like medicine or retirement, you are also hurting them badly, and in very real ways. They are going to suffer much, much worse lives — whether measured in longevity, happiness, income, or relationships — as a result of that denial.

The American Idiot is an abuser. He abuses everyone he can, right down to his own loved ones — and think that’s sanity, compassion, goodness. It’s not: it’s only a recipe for self-destruction. Because a society of people — enough of them — hell-bent on abusing everyone else, right down to their loved ones — can only implode into ruin, bitterness, hardship, and suffering.

That brings me to my final form of poverty. If I deny you the basics — healthcare, education, and so on — what am I really doing? I am destroying your human potential. And that is America’s truest and deepest form of poverty.

Americans now live lives of sharply limited and circumscribed possibilities. Go-nowhere, dead-end lives. You can see that, too, in basic statistics, like the death of upwards mobility, the loss of hope in the future, the fact that young people can’t afford to move out and start families, that half of all jobs are now “low-wage service work.”

In America, your life is going to be much, much poorer than in any other rich country. Elsewhere? You can probably get an education — a much better one — and not be crippled by debt for life. There are more better jobs, with better standards. There’s more free time, to have a family, to form bonds, to love. There are better social protections, which mean you spend less time anxious and stressed out. All of that doesn’t just add up to less depression and suicide and more happiness — happiness is facet of an even greater thing, human potential.

There you are, a young person in America. What are your options? Most industries have now imploded, from news to media to education. That’s why half of jobs are now “low-wage service work,” which is polite pundit’s way of saying: being a servant.

You end up driving an Uber, delivering an Instacart. Doing gig work. Pursuing your side hustle when and where you can. What the hell? You’re educated. You have a long collection of degrees and diplomas.

And yet you never become the thing you could have. The one that would have benefited everyone. That scientist, researcher, novelist, journalist, professor, musician. Who can? Nobody can make ends meet. Nobody has time for anything but to be exploited and abused, in the name of trying to make ends meet. So what is there left over in time or money to invest in one’s self?

One dimension of human potential is what you make of yourself professionally — and you realize, one day, terrified, that you will never amount to what you wanted to, but be a glorified neo-servant for much of your life. But another is relational — what you make of yourself socially. And as an American, now, you can’t even afford to start a family, have a home, develop a lifelong relationship.

That’s how badly your human potential has been destroyed. That’s how poor you are in human possibility. You won’t not just be that scientist, researcher, journalist, novelist — you also won’t be that dad, mom, grandparent, husband, wife, loved one.

You will work, for a pittance, and then die. You’ll make billionaires trillionaires — and demagogue dictators — along the way. But you?

You’re expandable, disposable, nobody.

That’s thanks to the American Idiot. He’s a person so breathtakingly foolish to the rest of the world he’s made America a laughingstock. Precisely because he believes nobody’s life has any intrinsic value — beginning with his own, extending to his loved ones…all the way to you, to everyone. If he’s happy to abuse himself — having internalized the lesson he’s been taught all his life, that only brutality matters and cruelty counts — why wouldn’t he abuse everyone else, too?

America’s become unlivable. Sure, you can live there, and you’ll be OK. But you’ll be poor. Poor in ways that are strange and hard to comprehend because they’re both old and new. You’ll be poor financially, of course, like someone living in a collapsing society — but that’s just the beginning.

You’ll be poor in terms of public health, like someone from medieval times. You’ll be poor in terms of time and power, like a peasant from pre-war times. You’ll be poor emotionally, like someone living in a country with no hope. And you’ll be poor socially, politically, and culturally, like in a country turning fascist-authoritarian. All that adds up to the coup de grace — you’ll be poor in terms of human potential. You’ll never become what you’re capable of being — not to the same degree as elsewhere.

Don’t get me wrong. Humanity has lived through a lot. Plagues, wars, collapses, implosions. Life doesn’t come to an end. It goes on. But you know what the point of all those things was? Not to repeat them.

That is the most minimal definition of what progress is. And so far, America has yet to meet even that. Maybe, then, that’s what the truest kind of poverty is, too.

Umair July 2020

[life-love-and-alcohol]

Please do a part 2 for the flower shop au I AM DYING ITS SO CUTE

AAAAA OMG THANK U!!! Here u go anon! I hope you like it! 

And here’s the link to the first part for those who didn’t read it: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11140002

Viktor was ecstatic.

No, he was blooming.

He was flourishing,pollinating the world with ridiculous positivity, growing joy on his fertilesoul, proud of seeding love wherever he went.

Need any more flowermetaphors? Don’t worry, he had more. He had made a list in case he ran out ofconversation topics in the middle of the date. He needed to be very cautiousnot to ruin it, unless he wanted to forget about his Flower Boy for good.

Not to be creepy oranything, but he had actually been planning the scenario for weeks.

They had settled tomeet at the Italian restaurant at eight, but of course Viktor had to be latebecause he couldn’t let the other know he had been ready to leave hours ago andthat he had been waiting with his keys in hand outside the door until it wasthe time. That would have been embarrassing, and he couldn’t afford embarrassmenton the first date.

They would sit at avery specific table, just next to the window, to have the lovely view of thelocal park at night. Then he would proceed to pour his lovely date some wine(of the most excellent quality, of course, he already had a specific brand inmind), just the right amount to set his tongue lose, and leave his natural shynessaside. The more wine Yuuri had, the more Yuuri Viktor would taste. And, lastbut not least, they were going to have a romantic walk in the park, under theround full moon, and he had even taken the trouble to learn some constellationsto point out.

Everything was plannedto perfection.

Yurio kept complainingit was just a stupid dinner, and that he shouldn’t even bother trying to lookgood because the guy obviously wouldn’t care if he wore his cerulean orturquoise dress shirt. But Viktor simply ignored him, and decided to askMakkachin to choose what tie he should wear if the other wasn’t willing to collaborate.

When he arrived fiveminutes past eight though, he thought he had been stood up. He looked for hisdate at the entrance, but there didn’t seem to be signs of that lovely, dorkyguy that smiled coyly behind a counter.

He didn’t recognizethe man that was leaning against the wall, he didn’t recognize that slickedback hair, those unframed pretty eyes, and those nervous rigid lips. He didn’trecognize that smart suit. But he did perfectly recognize the carnation peekingfrom inside its front pocket.

“Viktor!” heexclaimed, walking towards him enthusiastically. And it was only then, with thatrelieved, excited smile on his face, that Viktor was finally able to recognizehis precious Flower Boy.

He was surprised, butcertainly not disappointed. Yuuri looked stunning; with his hair pushed backthere was a better view of his pretty eyes and features, and although Viktorloved the usual smell of fresh jasmines on him, he had to admit he was morethan pleased with the scent of masculine perfume. Yurio had been wrong, hisdate did dress up for the occasion, after all.

The dinner was reallypleasant, they enjoyed the pasta, the wine, and the charm of each other’scompany, as they engaged in a really natural conversation that, for the firsttime, didn’t have to do with plants. Viktor was glad to finally have him outfrom the seller’s facade, to extract him from the shop’s formula, and talk tohim with the centerpiece being the only flower in between.

Everything was goingperfect, just according to plan. He had got Yuuri to talk about himself, totell him about his family, his friends, his hobbies outside the store, and evenshare some of his life philosophy Viktor was more than wanting to hear. Thathad been his main objective, after all. The whole date was just a cold andpre-calculated Nikiforov Secret Plan to take as much information as he could,to get high on the other, and satiate the sick hunger his love-struck devotionhad imposed.  His strategy was clear and faultless,it had no holes, and there was no way nothing could go wrong.

Right?

The first sign he gotthat something might actually go wrong, was when their food arrived. They hadboth ordered pasta, but different dishes with different sauces and Yuuri feltcurious about how champignon spaghetti tasted like.

“Is it good?” Heasked, talking some of his own food to his mouth.

Yet, Viktor didn’tanswer right away. He was way too concentrated on the other, on the littlestain of tomato on his left cheek, on the way he adorably sucked in a singlenoodle between his pretty lips, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed as heswallowed. He wasn’t paying attention to his own food, hell, he wasn’t even payingattention to himself. He could have been about to suffer from heart disease andhe wouldn’t have noticed right then.

He didn’t know why,but the actual thing that came out from his mouth right then was:

“Yeah, it’s dahliacious”

Yuuri blinked a fewtimes.

“Was that a flowerpun?”

Viktor’s mouth said “no”,but his red face shouted “yes”.

He made his best toshrug it off, to pass it as a silly joke and not the weirdest of impulses hehad ever had. What the fuck had just happened? Why did he say that?? Did hewant to look like a total idiot??? Thankfully, Yuuri didn’t really question himabout it, and decided to go on with another conversation topic instead.

After a while, whenthe chattering was back to normal, and Viktor had got the other to tell him hisopinion on some movie, they decided to order dessert. They shared this time,since portions were far too big and none of them was really that hungry, andthey agreed they both liked strawberries and whipped cream.

“What do youthink of it, though?”

Viktor wasn’t readyfor the question, and he wasn’t ready for the sight of that mouth, that cutetongue fishing for some rests of cream on the upper lip.

“Think ofwhat?“ 

"The movie!”Yuuri exclaimed “Do you agree with me? Or do you think Bryan and Suzieshould be a couple?" 

"I think heshould leaf her alone” As he sawthe other arch a brow, he immediately tried to take back his words “I’mjust pollen your leg!" 

Yuuri laughedawkwardly, not really knowing what to say about that, or about the fact he gotno real answer of Viktor’s opinion on the movie. He just decided to let itslide again, convincing himself he was not being made fun of, and asking thewaiter for the bill. 

As they left therestaurant and headed towards the park, Viktor was a little bit calmer. Withthings finally adapting to his plans again, he could keep the nerves fromkicking in and ruining everything. He had even gathered the courage to askYuuri for his hand to hold, which he had timidly accepted, and ended uppressing their bodies close as they walked. 

Yuuri was the sweetestof guys, surpassing every one of his expectations. Every single thing he saidwould keep pumping on Viktor’s adoration. And, right then, he didn’t know ifthat was a nice thing or if his heart would end up exploding from the overstimulation. Thedate was going wonderfully, and he was finally beginning to let his guard down.

However, just when hewas about to go on with the next step of his plan and name some star’s names,he was interrupted by an unexpected, hazardous question: 

"Tell me a littlebit about yourself” Yuuri asked, facing upwards and into the sky.

“Uh??" 

"I feel like I’vebeen talking all night! Why don’t you tell me something about you?" 

Viktor’s systemcrashed. 

It was only then thathe realized the reason his plan kept backfiring: he had forgotten he wasactually a part of the date too.

"Uhm…I don’treally know what to say” he laughed, trying to distract himself from thehumiliation “I don’t want to give you an overrose of information" 

He almost let go ofhis hand to give himself a facepalm. 

"Okay…" 

Yuuri didn’t lookamused, at all, as they walked away from the park and towards his house.

He had fuckedup. 

For real, he had totallyfucked up.

He had been so worriedabout getting to know him, to please him, to keep him entertained…that he hadnever thought about the fact that, maybe, Yuuri wanted the same thing inreturn. 

He knew he shouldn’tbe so nervous, there were lots of stuff about himself he could tell him. Abouthis job, about Yurio, or even Makkachin! He was an interesting, charming personand he knew it. But, apparently his stress turned his every word intononsense…like some kind of verbal photosynthesis. 

By the time they gotto Yuuri’s house, none of them had spoken a word in two solid minutes.

It was too late. Theguy probably thought he was retarded by then. There was no turn back, and hehad completely lost his chances with his precious Flower Boy. 

“Well, this is where Ilive” Yuuri sighed, looking downwards, and avoiding his gaze on purpose “Thankyou, the food was really good”

Viktor could see the disillusionmentin his eyes, the embarrassment, but also some hint of anguish. He didn’t knowwhat of all the idiocies he said had caused it, but hell, he wanted to hanghimself with his tie right then. One thing was to look like a total moron,which was already bad enough, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if hisdate left with that look on his face. He had just wanted to make him happy. Andthat wasn’t a happy face, at all.

“Wait!” He grabbed himby the wrist before he could walk away “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Iswear, I just…”

“No, it’s ok” Yuurishrugged, getting lose from his hold “I’m sorry if I was a disappointment, Iguessed I talked too much and bored you at some point…”

“What??” Viktorgrabbed his shoulders, breaking the gloomy mood, letting some of his naturalimpulsiveness slip through his attempts of perfection “Why would you say that??”

“I mean, you keptmaking jokes about the flower shop…I know it’s not the best job in the world,but you had no right to make fun of me because of…”

There had been onefact about Yuuri that Viktor’s master plan had made him overlook: his crushinginsecurity.

“No, you got it allwrong!” He said, shaking him a little, abandoning his pride for once and forall and spilling the shameful truth “I just said all that stuff because I wasnervous, ok??” He turned his head to the side, trying to hide the blush on hisface, but Yuuri could still see it creeping to the tips of his ears “I reallylike you, and I had planned this date to perfection and all but I just…I don’tknow, I panicked. I’m so sorry if I made you feel bad, you are lovely and funnyand beautiful, and I would never make fun of you”

He received no answer.

Yuuri kept staring athim in disbelief, as if the information just couldn’t sink in his dense uncertainties,and his eyes just looked so lovely opened wide and reflecting the moonlight itmade Viktor’s chest ache. He couldn’ttake it, he couldn’t keep carrying with the debris of his crumbled plans in hisheart, and he couldn’t bare the look on that beautiful, beautiful face. So, so beautiful, there was no flower to compare.

“If there’s somethingI can do to mend this…” He said, giving himself one last chance to talk “Ifthere’s anything I…”

“I want tulips”

Viktor moped, notreally understanding. The change of mood having been way too fast for him toget a grasp on.

“Uh?”

“I want tu-lips” Yuuri giggled, raising hiseyebrows “Get it? two-lips”

Viktor was so out ofhis mind, so relieved by the little smile now hanging from the other’s mouth hecouldn’t really wrap his head around the meaning of those words.

“What?”

Yuuri laughed,blushing a little bit himself, and letting the late effects of wine numb hiseternal embarrassment as he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Kiss me, you hugedork”

And, before Viktor couldruin the moment with another awkward flower pun, there was a pair of warm, tenderlips on his, kissing him fondly.

It was short but fullof devotion, with Yuuri standing in his tip toes and cupping his cheeks,feeling the skin beginning to heat up underneath his fingers. Only as he pulledaway, gifting a kind, wholehearted smile, he was able to appreciate what he haddone to the other:

Eyes shiny and pupilswide, cheeks reddened and mouth agape, and about a thousand stutters jumping onhis tongue like a trampoline.

There was a moment ofsilence, in which they just kept staring at each other in clumsy disbelief,looking for any signs of regret, of thankfulness, or at least the proof thatthat had actually happened. But all the answer they got was scent of fruity winestill lingering in their breaths, as nothing came out of neither of their mouthsrather than stuffed, winded air.

“Damndelion” Viktor finally whispered, and Yuuri couldn’t help but tobreak into laughter, and planting one last, quick kiss to his cheek before heentered the house.

“See you tomorrow at theshop” He waved at him from behind the door “I’ll be waiting for you”

Viktor had to waitsome full seconds standing still in the middle of the street before he couldactually go back to his own apartment; trying to let the chilly night’s aircool him and his steaming heart off, and thinking about what part of his officecould actually use more flowers.

I’m so sorry this is so shitty XD sorry for the puns, I actually had to google some

PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS!! I WANT TO KEEP WRITING!! :D

[juliebeanbook]

four: we’ve got all the time in the world to get it right

“You’re all fucking idiots, you know that, right?”

I was lying on the stage, unable to stop laughing, clutching my stomach. My eyes were watering. Dex was pointing at Emmy, his laughter no longer even making a sound as it left his mouth. Cal’s head was down on the keys of the piano, his body shaking.

We were all dying because Emmy had just performed the most spectacular fall ever executed by a sober human. She had been sitting on the edge of the stage with her guitar, and as she got up her foot had gotten caught in her strap, and her arms wheeled wildly through the air before she tumbled off the stage, falling directly onto her ass and looking up at us with these huge Disney princess eyes. We all lost it.

“I’m sorry, Em,” I said, sitting up and wiping my eyes. “But you should have seen yourself.”

She shook her head as she stood, but her eyes danced, sparkled. “Shut up and help me pack up, will ya?”

I jumped off the stage and helped her carry the sound equipment to the storage room, which someone had thought would be a great idea to put up a steep, narrow flight of stairs. Moving equipment required at least two people, so that we could help each other avoid death. I hefted an amp onto my shoulder and followed Emmy, who had a coil of pickup cables bundled in her arms. Dex followed with another amp, and Cal brought up the mics.

Back downstairs, the café staff was packing up too, flipping chairs on top of tables and wiping down the counter. “Anybody want a coffee?” Vera, one of the waitresses, called from the other side of the counter. “I’m going to pitch this if no one wants it.”

Emmy claimed a coffee, and so did I. We took our mugs and sat on the empty stage, resting our feet on our guitar cases. Tonight had been a good night, show-wise; we’d had a solid setlist, and we’d had the audience tapping their feet and nodding along to our songs, which had been more upbeat than some of our previous stuff from the last couple weeks. Emmy was, apparently, in a “more positive place” in terms of her songwriting.

“All I could write was depressing shit a month ago,” she explained to me, when I commented on her songs’ change of mood. “I’d just gotten out of a god-awful relationship. It kind of exploded at the end.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. The heat of the coffee warmed my face when I held the mug close.

“I wasn’t happy with her at all,” Emmy said, shrugging. “Fucking psycho bitch.” She laughed. Emmy swore a lot, but her lilting Irish accent made everything she said sound softer, almost musical. She’d been in Canada for seven years now, she’d told me; long enough to drop a lot of the slang she’d used in Ireland, but not long enough to drop the accent.

A few minutes later, Ben pushed open the old heavy door into the Moonlight. I got up and went to kiss him, my hands gripping the back of his starched white button-down. I looked back at Emmy and instantly regretted the PDA; the poor girl had just gotten out of a messy relationship, and here I was, frenching my boyfriend in front of her. I waved goodbye to her as Ben led me out the door, and she gave a half-hearted wave in return, still holding her coffee, which by now was probably cold.

Since I’d started playing with the band a few weeks before, there had been a bit of a learning curve for all of us. I had to learn how to work with three very different people – Dex, who had a heart of gold but was consistently late and forgetful; Cal, who loved to schedule our rehearsals and shows to the minute and got stressed whenever we veered off track; and Emmy, the antithesis to Cal’s structure, leaning so far to the side of mellow that sometimes she didn’t get things done – and somehow try and get all of us to agree on songs, get practicing done, and actually make music. They’d known each other for longer than I had known them; Dex and Cal had been friends since fifth grade, back when, as Cal said it, “the world was still under the batshit-crazy impression that I was a girl,” and Emmy had met the guys and formed a band with them this past winter. I was a newcomer, so I still had to feel out the dynamics of the group.

But they had to learn how to deal with me too, even just on the physical level. Dex, Em, and Cal had been a trio for a few months now, and as such, they had gotten used to formatting themselves as a group of three. We realized very quickly that the small stage at the Moonlight was not able to comfortably fit four people at once, so we worked out a system. Each night, we appointed one band member the “sitting duck;” that person was required to sit on the edge of the stage for the duration of the show, to give the other three people room. We established a schedule for who would be the duck every week, and this position was non-negotiable. (Of course, the rule only applied to Dex, Emmy, and I, as Cal was sort of glued to the piano, and Dex could only sit on the edge if he was playing one of his smaller drums.) It was a little difficult to retain any sort of dignity when you were sitting that close to the ground, but sitting eye-level to the audience was somewhat humbling and held a sort of charm.

At the show the next week, Emmy showed up a bit late, with a guest in tow. The girl looked fifteen or sixteen, with big brown eyes and soft thin blonde hair falling down her back. She took a seat on one of the couches and watched the whole show. Afterwards Emmy introduced her as Kathleen, her younger sister. She wanted to go to Birkett next year, so she was staying at Emmy’s place for the weekend and going on a tour. “I’m Julie,” I said, shaking her hand.

She beamed at me. “I’ve heard about you. You’re gorgeous.”

I blushed. Kathleen was adorable, her slight accent endearing. She told me about how she wanted to be a nurse; I told her about how I wanted to be an OBGYN, and she grinned when I told her we could work in the same hospital one day. I tried not to be rude but I kept discreetly checking my phone; Ben was supposed to have come pick me up half an hour ago, but I hadn’t heard from him all day.

I sat down on a couch as Kathleen and Emmy began to bicker about the new guy Kathleen was dating. (I’d gleaned so far that his name was Ozzie Bates; Emmy thought he was disgusting and needed to sit in the shower for three days straight to get all the oil out of his hair; Kathleen liked all his tattoos.) I tried to call Ben when it hit the forty-minute mark, but his phone went to voicemail. Emmy sat down next to me, her fingers tapping against her knee in annoyance at Kathleen in a way that was already familiar to me.

Soon most of the staff had cleared out, the blackboard sign brought inside and the lights over the stage switched off. Emmy went to get her guitar case and swung the strap over her shoulder. “Are you waiting for someone?” she asked me, adjusting the weight of her guitar on her back.

I sighed. “Well, Ben was supposed to pick me up tonight, but he’s…” I checked the time, “forty-six minutes late.”

“Do you want a drive home?” Emmy asked me.

I shook my head. “Emmy, no, it’s fine, it’s like a five minute walk.”

“It’s also past midnight,” she pointed out. “Come on, I don’t mind, just come with us, kay?”

I reluctantly agreed, and we took our guitars out to Emmy’s beat-up old ’99 Civic. Kathleen let me sit in the front seat, and Emmy cranked the radio for the short ride home. As she started up the car, the familiar notes of the beginning riff of “Mr. Brightside” came on. I bounced up and down in my seat and turned up the volume.

Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine.

“What? What is this?” Emmy asked as I started to sing along.

I stopped and looked at her. “You don’t know this song?”

“No…”

“How the hell don’t you know this song? Where were you in 2004? Under a rock?”

“In Belfast.”

“So, like I said, under a rock.”

She snorted and turned onto my street. I kept singing along, under my breath.

Emmy pulled up beside Maplebrook Manor, and I got out and grabbed my guitar from her trunk. I leaned into the passenger seat window. “Thanks for the drive, Em,” I said. “And nice to meet you Kathleen!” She waved from the backseat.

“No prob,” Emmy said, starting the car up again. “See you Sunday. Cal says we’re meeting at 2:00, but let’s keep him on his toes and show up more for 2:30-ish, okay?”

“Em, let it go!” I said, and she laughed as she drove off.

The street felt suddenly dark and black and cold. I rushed inside and ran the six flights of stairs up to the sexy apartment.

Back inside, Andy wasn’t home; I seemed to remember she had gone back to Dex’s after the show. I changed into pyjamas but couldn’t sleep, so I made some tea and sat on the balcony on that dumb loveseat. I dialled Ben again; no answer, so I left a message. “Hey, so I don’t know where you were tonight, but I waited for you for a while. I’m home now. See you sometime I guess, call me back when you get this.” I couldn’t help my tone from sounding defeated. I hung up and curled up on the loveseat, shivering.

My phone lit up with a notification. I picked it up and saw a text from Dex.

Talked to Emmy and Cal earlier tonight. We all want you in The Entertainment, officially. You in?

I clutched the phone to my chest and smiled. I thought of the reassuring sameness of our shows this past month, the soothing acoustic melodies of the songs in our setlists, the way that standing on the stage in the Moonlight felt like being in the middle of a warm tea-scented hug. “Hell yes,” I said out loud to no one, my own voice sounding loud in my ears. I texted him back and pulled my legs in tight to my chest, watching the white lights of approaching cars, the red as they drove away. I sang Mr. Brightside under my breath as I fell asleep; I couldn’t get the damn song out of my head.