#because by today's standards they would have all been short‚ average at best

[bayofwolves]

Me when I remember that average height is determined by nutrition and medicine, so in a world like Erdas my 6'0 Abeke and 6'3 Shane would be pretty unlikely...

[genmaichafan]

Katarina du Couteau x fem! Zuanite reader.

Rated t for slight violence. Maybe a one shot but short and sweet

“What will it be today [y/n]”

”that good ole demacian ale please.”

”a lady with taste.” the bartender curtly nodded

You thanked the barkeep for the large tankard full of the golden beverage. You’ve had this strain three times before but this particular brew was good even by demacian standards.

You took a big swig. You savored the effervescently bitter liquid. It had slight notes of malt and citrus. Demacian always had the best brews but this was on another level. You chocked it up to the readily available grain that received many hours of sun and the many places of shade for hops to grow. Not to mention the brews were on average stronger than the ones you drank at home. Remembering the lighter taste made you excited to drink the ale in front of you again.

not to mention with so much of it it never broke the bank even for someone traveling the world.

You sat down in the corner of the room alone. The dimness of the bar giving a all around relaxed atmosphere heightened by the merry making on the part of the other patrons. Often farmers but the odd soldier was there, the odd one sleeping from the long shift.

luckily for you no one seemed to bother you.

probably because you looked like you personally looked like you were from piltover.

______

3 large tankards later more than fairly buzzed.

With the tab paid for left for a night stroll.

you were in one of the outer towns of Demacia and the late evening air was crisp. the walk would’ve been rather relaxing if it weren’t for the fact it was low key creepy as hell out here due to the stories of people going missing in recent years.

That's when you heard someone talking in the distance. They seemed to be having a kerfuffle. Due to your nosy nature you decided to check it out.

and Lo and behold it was a fellow traveler being harassed by guards!

While definitely a traveler you had no idea where she was from, but a drunken kinship formed in your stomach. You were reminded of the lanes and how enforcers would harass the average person at home too and you would not stand for it here either.

”hey-“ you called out to the unbothered guards.

“HEY-“ you shouted as you approached more and more aggressively.

The guard turned around and palmed you on the chest, probably clocking the slurring of your words.

”don't get involved; demacian business”

”What's the problem?”

”the problem is this here is a noxian-“

”what?! No!” You hastily lied. “ that's my friend!”

This caused the soldier to eye you suspiciously.

’welp this isn’t going to work.’

You hastily and heavily clocked the man into unconsciousness causing the other to turn. Luckily for you the red haired woman seemed to know how to handle herself as well and chopped the distracted man in the neck. Pressure point causing him to pass out.

”thank you for helping, even if i had it handled.” She smirked slyly with crossed arms

”oh-!” You awkwardly laugh while rubbing the back of your head in embarrassment.

the adrenaline half sobered you.

”sorry- the names [y/n] by the way.” you stuck a hand out. The red haired woman gave it a firm grasp.

”Katherine”

”well,,, Katherine,,it's nice to meet you.” You winked then continued.

“Do you have anywhere to lay-low?” You shook your still sore hand.

”I may have an idea. I hope you can keep up.” ‘Katherine’ took off fleet of foot with you in tow.

______

‘Katherine’ seemed to take you off the path into an abandoned windmill. It seemed that she had camped here for a while as it actually looked quite comfy.

”whoa sick hideout-“

”It's camp.” she coolly leaned against the wall only to slip a bit.

hearing you giggle in response she decided to change the subject.

”You know you're very spirited. You could be a very good noxian.” She looked at you fondly.

”i'll think about it.” Understanding the worded gesture.

______

you two chatted for a while and the physical distance faded between you two. You found yourselves sitting next to each other, both your hands brushed the others but neither bothered to move.

you learned in a slip up that her real name was katarina and that she was on business.

Also that she was very fond of the inventions of both piltover and zuan. you swear she was humoring you but she'd give you a flirty look and the thoughts of doubt would leave your head.

the alcohol long since worn off when she leaned in and asked “may i?” Before closing the distance. Nodding you two shared a small kiss, which briefly deepened before parting. An apology for the bad news to come.

”by the way you should leave demacia. It’s going to get strict to strangers in the coming month.”

you tried not to think the nature of her business and heeded her warning soon after parting ways.

[inktheory3]

How would you fix the brellas, and how would you make a new brella?

A really good question and a topic I've been meaning to talk about!

First we need to identify the problems with the Brella class as a whole, and you'll find out soon enough that their problems aren't really that deep.

~

The first Brella, the Splat Brella, released on August 12th, 2017, a few weeks after the launch of Splatoon 2. But we should notice something from before they released.

In Splatoon 1 and the early weeks of Splatoon 2, shooters were strong. They've always been the most accessible and versatile weapon class and they naturally draw in players.

Shooters never really had a definitive counter in the frontline. They outranged Rollers and Brushes, they could close the gap on Blasters and capitalise on their inaccuracy and were much more accurate and forgiving to use than Sloshers. Splatoon 2 was no different in the beginning; Shooters consistent movement and damage outclasses the Dualies burst movement and damage.

So what you end up seeing in this time period was all these weapon classes ended up having different matchups with eachother, but Shooters were the best and had enough tools to deal with everything else, the 'apex predator' in this ecosystem.

And then the Splat Brella released and it shifted the ecosystem. Brellas, at their peak, were weapons that Shooters could not handle on their own, but Dualies and Blasters etc., could handle Brellas. This shifted the meta and created a really nice sort of weapon triangle.

Shooters get beat by Brellas, Brellas got beat by everything else, and everything else got beat by Shooters. Suddenly there was no one answer to everything and every weapon had a place in the meta. To continue the ecosystem analogy, Brellas were the keystone species of the Splatoon 2 meta. If they were taken out of the equation, Shooters run wild.

Now we know what happened in Splatoon 2's meta. Shooters got buffed, again and again and again. And Brellas got nerfed, again and again and again. Every update Shooters got slightly better at dealing with Brellas and they slowly got pushed out of the meta. Which brings us to today, in Splatoon 3 where Brellas are still completely pushed out of the meta.

Another thing to note is the kits that weapons are given. A kit can make or break a weapon. For example, the Splash-o-Matic. Even if the Splash, the Burst Bomb AND the Crab Tank all receive heavy nerfs, the Splash-o-Matic won't be irrelevant simply because the kit synergises well with eachother. A thousand people have already explained why this kit synergises so well so I won't go over it here.

On the other hand, Brellas don't get good kits. Undercover Brellas kit is objectively awful. Splat Brellas kit is held up purely by Triple Inkstrike being strong, but they don't synergise with eachother. For what its worth, Tenta Brellas kit is good, its just hit the hardest by my final point.

Brellas are buggy. The past 6 months of patch notes have not begun to scratch the surface of how buggy Brellas are. I could go on forever but I won't. The most important thing to know is that bugs cause inconsistency, and even if a weapon has objectively good stats, being inconsistent will make it feel bad to play.

In summary:

Shooters were overbuffed.

Brellas were overnerfed.

Brellas have worse kits on average.

Brellas are buggy.

There really isn't an inspired solution for the problem of Brellas being bad. Sometimes you just need to analyse why something is the way it is and the solution appears in front of you; balance the game without giving bias towards certain weapon classes, give worse weapons better kits and fix bugs.

New main weapons?

Now that this is out of the way, lets talk about new main weapons, along with a short analysis on how main weapons are decided.

Every weapon class has its hallmark, standard weapon. The Shooters have the Splattershot, the Chargers have the Splat Charger, and the Rollers have the Splat Roller. These weapons don't tend to do anything special, but they're consistent and they showcase the class as a whole. Once you see a Splat Roller in action, you have a general idea for what the Roller class is like.

Then these standard weapons get expanded upon with a lightweight weapon (faster, more efficient, less range, less damage) and a heavyweight weapon (slower, less efficient, more range, more damage), that are simply variations. They don't really change the mechanics; The Splattershot Jr. and Splattershot Pro work identically to the Splattershot, they're just light and heavy variations.

These 3 weapons build the core of a class, and the next main weapons in a class change and expand upon mechanics drastically to provide a more unique experience. The Squiffer, Splat Charger and E-Liter 4K are all similar weapons functionally, but the Bamboozler, Goo Tuber and Snipewriter are much more varied.

Looking at the Brella class, we have a standard weapon (the Splat Brella) and a heavyweight (the Tenta Brella). We don't actually have a lightweight Brella. The Undercover Brella isn't a simple variation of the standard Brellas, it has unique mechanics. It can shoot while flaring up its shield, and is the only Brella that can regenerate its shield early (by splatting or assisting a splat on an opponent).

So we need a lightweight Brella, and I'm also thinking we need another unique Brella, and luckily I have ideas for both!

Parasella:

This is a lightweight Brella! Unlike other lightweight weapons, it doesn't have much less range than the Splat Brella, it instead has a little less damage, far less shot spread and more damage fall off, forcing you to be more accurate for longer periods of time.

What sets it apart is the Brella itself. 0.5 seconds after holding down ZR, the Brella will shoot off and move fast and far. Of course it doesn't have a lot of health, only 200, and enemies can take care of it easily. (this is identical to the Undercover Brellas current health, but ideally, every other Brella would be getting health buffs) Finally, the Brella shield would regenerate after 2.5 seconds, allowing you to deploy multiple Brella shields at once on the field.

I imagine a supportive kit for this weapon, something like Autobomb/Killer Wail 5.1 or Fizzy Bomb/Zipcaster with a similar playstyle to the Custom Splattershot Jr. It would bombard enemies with deployables and chip damage and go in for the kill once they're distracted.

Octogami Brella:

The Undercover Brella adds new mechanics to the Brella class, namely shooting while shielding and regenerating your shield. I want to create a Brella that expands on a mechanic, contact damage. Brella shields deal contact damage, but it isn't a main part of the Brella playstyle.

The Octogami Brella has a large square shield, made out of paper. Holding down ZR after shooting causes the shield to start to fold up into the shape of an Octoling! It decreases in size, but due to it compacting, the health of the shield dramatically increases! The shield deploys after 2 seconds and it moves very quickly and has a large hitbox, forcing enemies to move out of the way or take serious damage. Finally, if enemies don't destroy the Octoling shield fast enough, it'll explode once it decays.

I don't really have stats for this weapon in particular, just a strong concept behind it, so feel free to suggest anything you like for it!

As always, thanks for reading everyone!

[aashiyanainn12]

What makes Service Apartments in Nashik better?

Today, tourists are most likely to stay in serviced apartments. A serviced apartment in Nashik offers a more homey atmosphere than a hotel.

You can work, cook, relax, and sleep comfortably in them. The average size of a one-bedroom serviced apartment is almost twice that of a standard hotel room.

As a result of the limited number of visitors, you can expect more solitude than at hotels and accommodations. Hotel locations are typically located in busy, commercial areas, so you avoid the chaos of living there. Most hotel services are overpriced.

Living Space

The dining room, living room, kitchen, and bathrooms of a service apartment are significantly larger than those of a hotel. These larger and more stylish apartments can make guests feel at home away from home.

Lower Cost

It is sometimes less expensive to stay in these serviced apartments than in hotels. You can rent the serviced apartments for a single day, a week, or even a month. The fees can be set for one day, a week, a month, or even a year. This is advantageous for those who enjoy staying in luxury for an extended period of time.

Privacy

Because luxury service apartments have fewer units, those looking for privacy will find it. The best serviced apartments usually only have a few apartments on each floor, giving guests a more intimate experience.

Ideal for Travelers

Serviced apartments are the most adaptable living spaces on the market. Whether you're travelling alone, with a companion, or with the entire family, a serviced apartment can accommodate you. This includes separate areas for working, relaxing, and sleeping. It's a chance to quickly prepare a snack in between video calls or to wash your nicest shirt before tomorrow's meeting. It's a place where your children can stay or visit while you work without fear of them climbing the walls.

Location

A well-equipped apartment not only enhances its features, but it also provides you with the convenience of being in one of your destination's most exclusive districts. A service apartment can be more convenient, whether it's a short walk from the business centre or having Main Street or local transportation links right outside your door. Perhaps it means living in a quiet apartment on the outskirts, equidistant from all of the above. Serviced apartments eliminate all of the hassles of city life, allowing you to focus on what is most important: your business success and enjoyment of your trip.

Reliable

Serviced apartments have a consistent occupancy rate, unlike hotels, which fluctuate in occupancy and pricing depending on the holiday season or offseason. As a result, serviced apartments are more reliable. Unlike hotels, service apartment availability will be known ahead of time and will not change after you book the apartment.

When you've been away from home for more than a few days, it's natural to crave that familiar feeling. Serviced apartments make you feel as at ease as if you were at home. In contrast to hotels and other forms of lodging, you would return home to a warm and welcoming environment.

[exitrowiron]

Day 38: Meadville to Bradford, PA

101 miles, 5,820ft ascent, 6:14

Fall announced itself with a chilly 39 degree start of our ride; fluffy clouds obscured the sun for most of the day and the average temp for my 6 hour ride was a brisk 50 degrees. As you can see in the picture my cold weather gear includes a long sleeve bike jersey, arm and leg warmers, headband and cleat covers in addition to my standard two bibs and short sleeve jersey. Normally I would shed some of these layers at the first refueling stop, but not today.

As noted in a comment by Lesley Conzelman yesterday, Pennsylvania is hilly! Today’s route required ascending like we haven’t seen since we were out west. We had a few big climbs, but most of the ascent came from the accumulation of rolling hills. Much of today’s route kept us near the Allegheny River and through the Allegheny National Forest. The scenery was pretty to be sure, but I couldn’t help imagining how much more beautiful it will be in a few weeks when the leaves start to change. We are seeing the first hints of color, but it hasn’t really started yet.

Although today was a few degrees colder than I’d prefer, I ride very strongly in the cool weather. I’m no longer battling just to stay hydrated and now only carry two bottles like everyone else. The two bottles can last 40-50 miles so I tend to skip the refueling stops and just eat a gel or two from my pocket. The other riders kid me about this, but I find it harder to get going after each stop and would rather sail through with as few stops as possible. Case in point, although we’ve been riding for 35 days, I think today was my best day in terms of normalized power (218 watts).

I haven’t talked much about our guides, but they are the key to the success of this trip and have been simply incredible. This is the first time all 5 guides on the trip are veterans of the cross country trip, having guided it at least once before. We have three vehicles in support and the guides rotate driving with riding with the group. Interestingly, there is no seniority among the guides in terms of decision making etc., they all have an equal vote. On the hand, the job is pretty straightforward and repetitive; load the luggage trailer in the morning, send the riders on their way, execute 4-6 refueling stops and a lunch stop, set up the arrival area at the hotel, join the group dinner and repeat for 47 days. Along the way they are sourcing food, snacks, drinks, preparing delicious lunches literally in the middle of nowhere, repairing and adjusting bikes and answering the rider question, “Where’s the next refueling stop?” several hundred times a day. They do all this tirelessly with a smile and are definitely getting a big tip from me and the rest of the riders.

Blake and Megan, the two guides on the left, are in their mid-30’s, have been with Trek for several years and were married a few weeks ago. Meghan is the guide who was hit yesterday. Brian, the guide in the middle was in the Air Force for >10 years before requesting a special

transfer to complete Army Ranger training. He is now in the North Carolina reserves as an Air Traffic Controller. Rae, the guide second from the right was a D1 soccer player with degrees in math and economics. She didn’t know anything about biking but interviewed for the job and is the youngest guide Trek has ever hired. Actually her age is a bit of a challenge because Trek guides need a Commercial Drivers License and the insurance is complicated if you’re under 26. I don’t know Brent as well, but he’s the guide who drove me to the hotel and checked me in when I was sick and I’ll always be grateful for his care and compassion. This trip literally couldn’t happen without outstanding guides and they’ve never let us down

[tennessoui]

If you're up up to it, how about obikin and 42?

yes!!! Prompt 42 is Star-Crossed Lovers, but star-crossed lovers are soooooo out now. 'Crossed the stars to be lovers' is IN, baby!!

(2.7k)

Someone has left a letter on his bunk. Obi-Wan as a rule doesn’t get letters. Actually, as a rule, Obi-Wan has never wanted to receive a letter in his entire life. They all have datapads for a reason, and it’s because they’ve evolved past the need for flimsi and ink when there are means at their disposal to deliver messages near instantly.

So no, Obi-Wan has never wanted to see a letter sitting on his bunk. He finds the whole thing rather trying, actually, the Flimsi Friends program the Jedi Order established fifty standard years ago in an attempt to connect their Jedi with others across the branches through letters. Obi-Wan had scorned the idea as an Initiate living comfortably in the Temple on Coruscant, and his opinion hadn’t really changed once he began his tenure at the AgriCorps.

Kabre notices before anyone else. “Oh, hey! Obi-Wan’s got a letter.”

“Finally,” Aldran grins, craning his neck from where he’s collapsed on his bunk. “We only signed you up months ago.”

“Really, you shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan says. “Really.”

“Oh, come now, little Obi,” Kabre pats him on the head. Obi-Wan is twenty-five and of a perfectly average height, but Kabre is close to three heads taller than him and of an indeterminable age. “Think of it as an opportunity to strengthen your connection to the living Force.”

“Through the Flimsi Friends program,” Obi-Wan deadpans, raising an eyebrow up at his peer.

“Getting letters from Susa is the highlight of my week,” Aldran tells the ceiling dreamily.

Obi-Wan shares a commiserating eyeroll with Kabre. “That’s because you’re in love with her.”

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s so sweet and kind and pretty and she has all these stories from her adventures in the ExploraCorps--”

“Alright, who got him talking about Susa?” Lathrum asks from the door, sighing in exasperation as he makes his way over to his own bunk. “It’ll be a standard day before he’s done.”

“Hey!” Aldran gasps, offended and already close to sulking. “Whatever. Fine. Everyone’s just jealous that Susa and I are in love because y’all are never going to find something nearly as good as we have.”

“Obi-Wan finally got a letter from the program,” Kabre announces to Lathrum. “We were just saying that he should at least try to be excited.”

“Yes, perhaps you’ll meet your own Susa,” Lathrum smirks, peeling off his dirt-covered tunic. His next words come out muffled. “Force help us if that happens.”

“No need to worry,” Obi-Wan says dryly, picking up the letter and studying it. “They appear to be a youngling.”

“A youngling wrote you?” Kabre asks, barely restrained glee in his deep baritone.

Aldran guffaws from his bunk. “Well now you have to write back!”

“Knowing your luck, it’s probably a youngling from the Jedi Temple,” Lathrum says. “Dear Obi-Wan, Today someone chose me to be their Padawan and I’m one step closer to being a Jedi Knight. How are your plants doing?”

“Yes, alright,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling slightly. He had met Lathrum when he was fourteen and still bitterly disappointed about his new position at the AgriCorps, and Lathrum has never let him forget it even after all these years.

He sits down on his mattress and pulls out the letter. It’s short at least. The handwriting is atrocious but the spelling is worse.

Dear Obi-Wan,

Hi! My name is Anakin Skywalker. I am nine years old. How are you doing today? My master says I have to write this to practice my spelling. I think not everyone can learn Basic, but he says I have to and that all Jedi masters know how. I didn’t ever know there was all this stuff I have to do to be a Jedi. I’ve been here for weeks now and I still don’t have my lightsaber!

I think the temple is really weird. It’s so big and cold. I miss my friends back home. Me and Kitster would go crazy exploring this place but no one here wants to play with me. Master Jinn says not to worry and I’m not! The temple is just really big and I’m cold all the time and I miss my mom. Master Jinn found me on Tatooine and took me here to make me a Jedi which is great, but everyone here already knows each other and I don’t think they like me much. I know the Jedi Council doesn’t. They didn’t even want to train me but Master Jinn inzi--incis--said he would.

Do you want to be friends?

Would you explore the temple with me?

Write back soon please,

Anakin

“Well?” Kabre asks, when Obi-Wan finishes silently reading the letter.

Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over the jagged penmanship. It’s all too obvious that this Anakin Skywalker is...painfully young, churlish and childish and achingly lonely.

Obi-Wan sighs again, harder, as he looks up at his bunkmates. “Where do we keep the blasted flimsi?”

---

Dear Anakin,

Thank you for your letter, it was very nice to read. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m 25 years old. I hope you are settling in at the Temple better by the time this letter finds you. I have to admit I was very surprised to hear that you are nine years old and have been allowed to train to be a Jedi. That’s unheard of. I’m sure you’ll be an excellent Jedi. There must have been a reason your master chose you. The Force wills it and it will be.

It is understandable to miss your mother and your old home. When I became a member of the AgriCorps, I spent the first few months missing the Jedi temple on Coruscant a lot. It was the only home I ever had. But we make others as we go. The Temple is big and I suppose very cold compared to a desert planet--I looked up Tatooine here and there wasn’t much information, but I could never live somewhere with two suns! I’d be burned to a crisp in a matter of hours.

The upside to the Temple being big is that there are a lot of hiding spots and footholds for climbing. Try the pillars in the entrance hall. They connect to each other. My friends and I would run around on top of them for hours, although I think that was mostly because we were too scared to get down. You should ask Knight Eerin about it, or Knight Vos. They’re usually in the Mess Hall if not the Halls of Healing.

I’m sure Master Jinn has you busy with meditation and classes, but I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best,

Obi-Wan Kenobi

---

Dear Obi-Wan,

I was really excited to get your letter! I didn’t know it would take so long but it’s been ages! So much stuff has happened. I finally finished my remedial classes and Master says we can focus more time of katas now! I can’t wait to learn how to fight! And Master Windu smiled at me the other day when he saw me in the hall because Master told him about my grades!

I asked Knight Eerin about you and she showed me some pictures she had on her datapad of you when you lived at the Temple. You look really pretty cool! I have blond hair and blue eyes if you were wondering. My mom always said she thought I was going to be really tall. What do you look like now? What do you do at the AgriCorps? Why did you leave the Temple? Knight Eerin says you need to give her a comm call soon. She didn’t sound very happy.

I made a friend! Knight Vos’ padawan was there when I talked to him about what you told me, and she came with me to go exploring! She’s so cool. She’s been helping me with my katas too.

Apparently I won’t get my lightsaber for years! That’s so long!

Anyway I have to go and do my reading now but please write back faster this time, Obi-Wan!

--Ani

----

Obi-Wan never reacts quite as happily and dramatically as Aldrin does when he sees a letter from Anakin on his bunk in the evenings, but over the years everyone learns not to disturb Obi-Wan on those nights.

The first letter Obi-Wan receives from Anakin after the boy turns eighteen includes his commlink frequency hastily crammed at the bottom of the page. If you want, Anakin has scribbled.

“Finally,” Obi-Wan jokes when the line connects and Anakin answers breathlessly. “No offense to you, dear one, and you have come quite a ways since you were a youngling, but your handwriting is still atrocious. I’d much rather talk to you like this than try to puzzle out what you’ve written.”

Anakin splutters and then stutters out in a voice slower and deeper than Obi-Wan had expected, “I didn’t know you had an accent, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan finds that he likes that voice saying his name in that way.

That’s the first sign of trouble.

----

Anakin sends a photo of his knighting ceremony. Obi-Wan wants to cry with pride. His friends tease him about it relentlessly. “You look like I did the day I married Susa,” Aldrin crows and takes a picture of Obi-Wan’s blushing, laughing face. Later, Obi-Wan reluctantly sends it to Anakin.

“I’m jealous of your friends,” Anakin confesses with an exhale of static. “They get to see you everyday.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, unable to say more. Unable to admit that he’s thought the same thing about Anakin’s master at the Temple. Unable to deny it though.

They move onto safer topics, ones that make Obi-Wan’s chest feel less tight.

----

“Jedi Knights are forbidden to have romantic attachments,” Kabre tells him apropos of nothing one late evening when they’re leaning against the railings of their cabin.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to pretend to not know what his friend is talking about. Anakin is twenty-three now. They call each other as often as possible, whenever they have enough free time. Thinking about Anakin, somewhere out in the galaxy, makes Obi-Wan feel dangerous things. Dangerous, insidious, illogical things.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“Everything you’ve ever told me about this boy makes me think he’s in love with you,” Kabre says. “And the way you tell it makes me think you’re in love with him too.”

“Kabre, I…”

“I’m not asking you to deny it to me, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to defend yourself. You know no one cares if you’ve gone and fallen in love with your flimsi friend. It happens. And Force knows there’s no way you could be more insufferable than Aldrin and Susa.”

“He’s a Jedi Knight, Kabre,” Obi-Wan looks away, off over the fields. “I know what that means.”

----

When Anakin is twenty-four, Obi-Wan walks into his room to see a letter on his pillow. He blinks in surprise. He hasn’t gotten a letter since they petered out in favor of comm calls with Anakin.

But he’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

He sits down to read it.

Dear Obi-Wan,

I find myself growing weary of Knighthood. I love my Padawan, I love the missions, I love the fighting. But I love something else more. I have for almost as long as I can remember.

I’ve been looking through the old letters from you. I’ve kept them all. I know Jedi should not have material attachments, but I found that I could no more throw them away than give my lightsaber to a Sith. They make up our story.

You were the first friend I ever had at the Temple. I don’t quite think you realized that then, and you may not even realize it now. But you were. I would get a letter from you and feel warm for weeks afterwards.

Actually, everything I love about the Temple and the Jedi you gave to me. My friends now, indirectly. All the hiding spots. Moving meditation.

When I got my kyber crystal, I wanted to tell you before anyone else. When my Padawan braid was cut, I gave it to my master, but wished I had something I could give to you too.

That was the day I really admitted to myself that you already have all of me.

Obi-Wan, I’m in love with you. I love you more every time we talk. Disengaging the comms at the end of the night hurts like losing my hand all over again. I love you, I love you.

And I have been a coward about it for too many years. I was afraid that you would reject me, think me too rash and young and foolish. But I know what I want. You told me in one of your letters that you believed I lived off of a single-minded desire to achieve my goals and that I would let nothing stand in the way.

I do not plan on starting now, if you will have me that is. I dream of nothing more than to feel your hands on my face, to listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

I will not disrespect the ways of the Jedi by loving you quietly, when I know you are my deepest, strongest attachment. One that I will not shake, even if I lived to be as old as Master Yoda himself.

If you find that you feel the same way, I will leave the Jedi Order tomorrow and meet you on Bandomeer. If you do not, then I understand and will never speak of this again. I am something of an expert after all these years of loving you silently from afar.

Yours sincerely, yours always, yours completely,

Anakin

Obi-Wan traces the words with a shaking hand. He doesn’t know he’s crying until a tear falls onto the flimsi. Oh, Anakin. Oh, his brave, foolish Anakin.

Will he really be so selfish as to allow Anakin to leave his Knighthood for him? His padawan, his home?

But the knowledge that Anakin loves him is a heady, addictive feeling. Obi-Wan has never truly gotten the things he wants. He loves his life now, of course. But he hadn’t wanted it.

And he loves Anakin.

He loves him terribly.

He reaches for a piece of flimsi and a pen.

----

Anakin will be the first to admit he’s been in a foul mood for a few standard weeks now. He’d sent that letter to Obi-Wan--Force, why had he sent that letter to Obi-Wan, obviously the man will never want to talk to him again now--and then immediately Ahsoka and him had been called in for a mission.

It had been awful and disgusting. Anakin is covered in mud from head to toe, and his padawan doesn’t look any better. And worst of all, he had had no time at all to comm Obi-Wan. No time at all to see how the man had taken his confession. It feels like he’s been holding his breath for days.

But he’s at the Temple now. He can clean himself off and call Obi-Wan incessantly until the man answers. Anakin can’t keep living like this.

“Letter for you, Master,” Ahsoka says as he enters their quarters. She’d been sent ahead while Anakin had finished docking the ship, and now she’s sitting at the table perfectly clean.

Anakin thinks his heart stops at these words and then it starts beating as fast as it ever has before. “Where?”

“I put it on your bed,” Ahsoka peers up at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay, Skyguy? You look a bit--”

But Anakin’s gone, already tearing into his room. There on the bedspread is a letter. Obi-Wan’s written him a letter.

Anakin has to try opening it three times before he finally gets his fingers to cooperate. It’s very short.

Dearest One, Obi-Wan has written.

I’ll meet you here tomorrow on Bandomeer. I will be waiting.

Forever yours,

Obi-Wan

Anakin smiles and feels like he could cry or sing or dance or scream from all the joy that’s welled up in his chest at this small handful of words Obi-Wan has given him. They’re everything and more.

Mindful of the mud on his person, he puts the letter gently on his bed and walks back out to the common area. Ahsoka is right where he left her.

“Okay, now you just look scary,” she says, pointing a fork at him. “Stop smiling like that.”

Anakin lets his grin die. He won’t relish this next part, but it’s for Obi-Wan. It’s so he can be with Obi-Wan. It's necessary. “Snips,” he says, sitting down opposite her. “We need to talk.”

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment.  She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham.  The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high.  The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision.  It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to.  It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her.  She eyed the people around her as she walked.  Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her.  She could feel somebody watching her.  She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move.  She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her.  She frowned slightly and shook her head.  She was getting paranoid.  She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.  

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag.  The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own.  She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it.  She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything.  Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs.  She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her.  She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion.  “Just me.  It’s okay. It’s just me.”  He watched her for a few seconds.  She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me.  So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.”  He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow.  “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right?  You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you doing here?”  

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today.  It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes.  And I’m a security expert.  I consult on it for people and companies.  I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.”  He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe.  “I can already tell that you need better locks.  I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds.  “You would be right.”  She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door.  “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern.  “I wouldn’t let you.  I’d charge Tim for it.  He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him.  The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became.  She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there.  Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.  

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys.  “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.”  She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment.  He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting.  But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now?  “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions.  Standard issue, not particularly secure.  He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight.  He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open.  He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile.  Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her.  There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected.  He shook his head at the condition of the apartment.  It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean.  He could see why she and Tim got along so well.  Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.  

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports.  He raised an eyebrow at that.  Odd combination.  His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door.  He scrunched his forehead in confusion.  If she lived with someone, where were they?  Where were they last night?  Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him?  “You live with someone?  A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator.  “No.  Well, yes, but no.  I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded.  That was good at least.  She wasn’t living alone.  There was someone else with her usually.  That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her.  He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time.  It was worse than the door.  “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones.  This lock is ancient too.  It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it.  We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter.  She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad.  She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here.  Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be.  She was just an average citizen here.  

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could.  She was no longer safe, not even in her own home.  But then again, she never really had been had she?  She had just thought she was.  She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant.  Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting.  Jason could guess where her head went.  When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang.  She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.  

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water.  She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water.  Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help.  It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter.  Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink.  She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter.  After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed.  Jason frowned at the sound.  It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her.  He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help.  God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming.  Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her.  She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again.  They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.  

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring.  She shook her head at herself.  She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped.  She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.”  She paused to listen to him.  “No, I’m fine.  I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim.  “I’m doing okay, I guess.  I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid.  I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor.  “No, thank you though.  Actually, your brother is here already.”  She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.  

“…that so.  That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern.  “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh.  Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications.  She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off.  He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed.  “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down.  And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.”  He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling.  “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.”  She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey!  That makes me Ron?  What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled.   “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words.  “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?”  Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in.  “Oh!  No, I was serious.  You two remind me of my friends.  It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight?  You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again.  “Yeah, Tim.  I’m okay.  Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.  Let me know if that changes.  I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously.  “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely.”

“Sweet.  I might test it just for that,” she teased him.  “Night, Tim.”

“Night.  And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up.  She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go?  It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her.  “I have plenty of time.  Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again.  “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture.  It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”  

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him.  “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile.  “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes.  “You certainly seem to think so.”  She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now.  If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him.  She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him.  “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes.  “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response.  “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly.  She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively.  “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it?  Or pretend like it never happened.  I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly.  “I was keeping an eye on my drinks.  I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.”  She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before.  “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence.  When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring.  He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.  

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously.  He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were.  “You don’t think it was just opportunistic.  You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor.  She gripped her arms tighter.  “I don’t know.  I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people.  I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again.  “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded.  She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze.  She looked up at him with a fake smile.  “So what are you feeling for dinner?  I can make some pasta.  I can do stir fry.  I can whip up a casserole.  What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention.  “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile.  He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to.  “That’s understandable.  I wouldn’t want to be either.  Do you want me to call Tim over?  I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile.  “No, I trust you.  And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back.  “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen.  “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her.  “You should eat though.  What kind of food do you want to try?  There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away.  “I don’t want to order out.  I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again.  “Yeah, that’s reasonable.  Let’s make something together, yeah?  I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter.  How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  French toast sound good?  I think you call it Lost Bread?  And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded.  “That all sounds amazing.”  She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared.  “Thank you, Jason.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem.  We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself.  They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again.  Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

[allzelemonz]

Don’t Go: Crosshair X Gender Neutral Reader Part 1

In honor of the return of Star Wars! I’m a little late... but Crosshair is in need of love. I want nothing bad to happen to him and I will likely be sad in the coming weeks.

It all happened so suddenly. One minute you were working with the resident Jedi on Kamino, then a clone asked for you to follow him. Then you heard the blaster fire. When you tried to turn back the clone grabbed your arm and kept you there.

“It would be best if you stayed with me, Commander.”

You stared at the expressionless helmet in shock. From the tone of his voice to the words themselves, this clone was not acting right. Nevertheless, he had a blaster in his hands and you did not. He released his grip on your arm and you followed him away. Nothing seemed right.

He led you to the Prime Minister who was waiting in his usual weird egg chair. When the trooper was gone you gave the Kaminoan a curious look as he calmly poured a drink for you.

“I’m sorry if you witnessed any unpleasant things today, Commander.”

“Do you mind if I ask what’s going on, Prime Minister?”

You tried to keep you cool in the presence of the Kaminoan, knowing that manners and politeness was their favored character trait. You accepted the drink from him with a small thanks.

“All will be explained in due time, but I’m afraid I must inform you that your employment in training the clone troopers may be coming to an end.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have come under a sort of new management.” The Prime Minister took a small sip from his cup. “An announcement will be made later this evening, I just thought it would be best to let you know of the threat to your employment ahead of time.”

“Thank you for that, but I’m still a bit confused.”

“We will speak more tomorrow, after the announcements. Everything will make more sense then.”

You gave the Kaminoan a nod and promptly exited the room. You were met with hallways full of troopers going in every direction. You took a shaky breath at the sight of an occupied stretch being carried to the med bay, seemingly for analysis. You had a sinking feeling you knew exactly who was on it.

You made your way to your barracks, changing your mind halfway there, and instead turning down the hall leading to the barracks room of Clone Force 99. You waited there for an hour or so, trying to distract yourself with cleaning one of Crosshair’s old rifles.

The door slid open to reveal Tech and Wrecker first. Tech going immediately to his workstation.

“Ah! Good to be back.” Wrecker exclaimed as he put his helmet down.

“The smell’s getting worse.” Echo commented.

“You’re still new. You’ll get used to it.” Hunter assured.

“Speak for yourself.” Crosshair pushed passed his brothers, finally seeing you.

The other boys went about their usual coming home routine as Crosshair sat next to you and took his helmet off.

“How was the mission?” You asked, mostly to gauge if he’d be acting weird like all the clones you’d seen today.

“Mediocre.” He mumbled.

He leaned over to you and placed a quick kiss on your head. At least that hadn't changed. The rest of the Bad Batch seemed to be acting like themselves. There was something about Crosshair’s movements that seemed different. He hadn’t taken his helmet off until sitting with you. He didn’t say anything about you cleaning his rifle.

“Not every objective” Crosshair said.

You tuned into the conversation, having ignored it until now.

“Hunter let that Jedi kid escape.” He continued. “Or do you want to keep lying to us?”

You looked between Crosshair and Hunter. Let the Jedi escape? Were all of the Jedi being killed?

Hunter stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the waters below.

“I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective.”

“An order is an order.” Crosshair argued.

He wasn’t wrong, but killing all of the Jedi was a questionable order at best. And the Padawans, children, there was no way to justify that order. When you were first brought on to aid the trooper training you couldn’t believe that pre-teens were holding a rank that you didn’t earn until you were twice that age. You couldn’t imagine killing them.

“Since when?” Hunter fired back.

Even from behind him, you could see Crosshair become annoyed. The end of his toothpick flicking around and his shoulders tensing up.

“None of this makes sense.” Echo chimed in. “Those clones served alongside General Billaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?” The former reg hit his fist against the table in frustration.

“Because of the reg’s programming.”

Everyone looked at Tech as if he was crazy.

“What programming?” Hunter asked.

You recalled being told that the clones were made to be more obedient than the average person, but you never thought of it as programming. Tech explained what he meant and Wrecker laughed.

“Ha! We sure don’t” The giant clone slung an arm around Crosshair, stuffed toy in hand.

You could see Crosshair’s annoyance at the action go beyond his default level of only moderate annoyance.

Tech explained why they didn’t adhere to the same standards as other clones, which you could have guessed. They’re different. Tech made it sound more complicated than that, but really the short answer was that they were simply built different.

Crosshair pushed Wrecker off him as Tech continued his explanation. Wrecker began to softly hit Crosshair with his stuffed toy in opposition. Crosshair got away from his large brother and replaced his toothpick in his mouth. You could still tell he was a bit off put by the current topic of conversation. The boys continued to discuss why they didn’t follow the order that had apparently been put out. You came to your own conclusion about the Jedi and troopers you’d been with earlier.

Crosshair leaned against the wall next to his bunk, you nudged him lightly and asked silently if he was feeling okay. He didn’t respond as he usually did.

An intercom message gave the order to report to the staging area, interrupting the conversation.

The Bad Batch walked to the staging area. You followed with them, Crosshair keeping pace with you in the back. It was his form of PDA like holding hands, just walking with you in step.

You split from the boys to take your position at the head of your group of clone cadets. All of them acting strange, not a single one out of place or trying to talk to one another. All of them stood at attention as if they were clankers. Even your subordinate sergeant didn’t give you any more comment than an acknowledgement of rank and a curt nod. He’d usually at least crack a smile or a wink if he was feeling confident.

You watched the announcement with a bad feeling about what was to come. You tried to catch sight of Crosshair or Hunter, anyone of the batch, but they were too far ahead and blocked by too many other clones. You couldn’t even see Wrecker towering above everyone else. The news that all Jedi were to be executed for treason explained a lot, but it didn’t change your mind about anything. The clones around you cheered at the announcement of a new Empire. The cadets behind you included. Men that just a few weeks ago had been talking about their disgust with the authoritarian Separatists. Maybe Tech had a point about the programming.

After the announcement you were caught up in the chaos that was clone cadets. Your fellow training commanders all worked to get the cadet back into their schedules and you couldn’t slip away no matter how much you wanted to. You escorted your troops back to their training area and got them back on track, leaving them to the bounty hunter trainers they were working with.

You made your way back to the batch’s barracks to find Crosshair looking over the old rifle you had been cleaning.

“Where is everyone?” You asked. It was a rare case the barracks were only occupied by one member of the batch.

“Out.” Crosshair stated plainly.

You took his meaning. Everyone was doing their own thing. You sat by the tall clone and watched him inspecting the weapon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been accommodating recently.” Crosshair said, breaking the silence.

“Since when are you accommodating?”

The sniper chuckled and set the rifle to the side, turning to you. He took your hand in his and met your eyes.

“I try to be for you.”

He leaned in and kissed you. The usual crosshair kiss, short and to the point, but exactly what you needed.

“Have you been feeling okay?” You asked.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow at the question.

“You’ve been picking at Hunter a bit more than usual is all.”

“He made a bad call.”

You nodded, not wanting to provoke him. Maybe Crosshair wasn’t as immune as the others. He was acting off, but not nearly as badly as the regs.

“Do you want to go to the mess?” You rested you had on his cheek, tracing the point of his tattoo with your thumb slightly.

“Maybe later.” He answered, leaning into your touch.

He inched closer to you, pulling you close to him. He wrapped his arms around you in a rare hug. You relished in the action, pulling him closer as well. You ran your fingers against his short hair. Crosshair never hugged you for more than a few seconds, but you sat there for a while before the clone pulled away to kiss you again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Cross?”

“Just missed you.” He spoke softly.

He hugged you close again. It made you wonder what was going through his head right now. The stoic man Crosshair usually appeared as was fading the longer he held onto you. Something wasn’t right.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

A Little Closer

[Raphael x fem reader]

sfw, apocalypse AU, 2012

The city that never sleeps.

They jinxed it, you thought as you dragged yourself along the street, Raphael at your side. The city wasn't only sleeping—it was dead.

You and him were alone, trying to get back in touch with everyone after getting split up. The team had been separated by unfortunate circumstances, nothing short of Murphy's Law. If you hadn't believed in the law before, you did, now.

But Raph could and would plow through a horde for you. He had to; he was your friend, the protector, at the moment. Because while you were able to handle yourself to some degree, ultimately, Raph was the one defending the both of you. And not even because you told him to. He took the role up himself, assumed it silently and never complained. You couldn't quite tell if it was because he felt obligated, or if it really was just his nature.

"You see that building up ahead? The tall one." He pointed toward a particular rooftop rising high among the ones around, and you nod. An infected ambled around in an adjacent alleyway. You glanced over at it anxiously, while Raph seemed completely unbothered. He was focused mentally planning their route. "That's our checkpoint. From there, we'll rest and see if we can regroup with the rest of the team."

The infected, a slower, pustule-covered form, started coming toward the two of you, stumbling out with quiet gurgles. "Raph," you said softly, with a tap on his hard shoulder. He glanced back at you before pulling out his sai, running at the infected and quickly dispatching it by a stab right in the eye socket. He avoided the sickly green caps.The creature fell heavily, and some of the pustules popped on the pavement, squeezing out a foul-smelling concoction of mutagen and infector cells. It amazed you every time just how fast he could get it done, the killing. And without fear—a few infected were more of an inconvenience to him than anything. He got in and got out, all the while you were left in awe at his ability to work on autopilot.

"Actually," he muttered, stepping around the body and into the alleyway the Infector had just come from. He noticed the fire escape and decided they'd take it from there on the rooftops. "I think we can get there from here. Feel like a little roof-running?" he asked you, throwing a subtle smile over.

Anything to get off the streets. Down there, it was bad. You had to look around every corner, watch your back even more carefully, and even then, straggling infected would still manage to slip under the radar. Though, luckily, Raph often was able to predict the movements of groups, which was what made you avoid the building horde making its way through the city. It was still a major scare to think you were clear and suddenly have a hunter-class infected jump out at you.

"Yeah," you answered him, following into the alleyway. "Yeah, let's do that. There are way too many Infectors down here." A shudder crawled up your spine to think about what the ooze those things carried could do to people.

He leaped up onto the railing, while you took the stairs. "It ain't the Infectors you have to worry about. It's the Hunters," he replied, pulling himself into the edge of the roof. You finished your ascent up the staircase as quietly as possible, and he met you at the top, grabbing your hand and helping you up the rest of the way. "But don't worry; I'll make sure none of 'em get you." You leaned forward and looked at him with a small smile, noting what he said. And that he still hadn't let go of your hand. "Or me," he added quickly as he released your hand and turned away to survey the series of buildings ahead.

You laughed, "Well, I'd be pretty screwed if I lost you, Raph. I kinda rely on you, y'know?"

Unknown to you, those last words would stick with him. For a long time.

"Yeah…" he trailed off. He didn't know how to respond to that. Of course, he'd been relied upon before; by Mikey, especially. He knew what that felt like. But protecting this girl? There was a new sense of pressure. Even Mikey could handle himself well enough alone. But there wasn't anything for you to fall back on, should he be out of the equation. No ninja training, not much knowledge of how to use a melee weapon aside from the basics, and guns were few and far between. Very far. A gang would trade you one, if you were lucky. Most people weren't lucky in that regard. Raph didn't want you anywhere near those thugs, anyway.

Between the two of you was nothing but the sound of the breeze. The city was almost dead silent, save for the occasional racket of survivors, or feral animals. Both were in low numbers; most of the city—the country—had been turned. The rate at which the infection spread was astonishing. Only here and there would a lonely human cause ruckus anywhere.

Raph cleared his throat, "We should get moving. Sun's going down and we need to hunker down for the night, the Hunters will be wakin' up soon."

"Sounds good," you said as you stretched your tight muscles out. Hours of almost nonstop walking and jogging could really work up some nasty knots.

You moved forward, him naturally taking the lead as you both made your ways across the roofs, him helping you along when you needed it, and you keeping watch for stragglers while you were at it. Sometimes, there would be other people up there. Other times, former people.

Coming up to a run down building, Raph made the last jump across, expecting you to be able to handle it. But you were hesitant, your body worn and weary from days of over exertion, and today was the straw that broke the camel's back. After all this time, you just couldn't muster the strength to clear the gap yourself.

Raph was about to go on ahead when he noticed you hadn't made it across yet, and he called out, "Y/N, what're you doing over there? Come on, this is our stop."

You wanted to do it, for the sake of his convenience, but it was too far. You could have over or underestimated and plummeted down into the alley below, gotten incapacitated, and became even more baggage. He watched as you backpedaled from the ledge. "I can't," you answered, slightly ashamed, "it's too far of a jump. I can't do it."

You watched as Raph easily bounded across, landing in front of you. "Here," he motioned for you to step in, and you did, where he then picked you right up into his arms and started backing further away. He'd lended you a helping hand before, a catch, sometimes, but never had he picked you up like this. "Wrap your arms around my neck, this is a little dodgy," he instructed you. He tried to ignore the fluttery feeling it gave him when you did what he'd said to do, wrapping your arms around his sturdy neck as he got ready to leap the gap. You were comfortable enough—Raph was strong. Really strong. But the threat of you both falling still have you anxiety, and for that, you had to clamp your eyes shut.

Without a word, he took off in a dash, one powerful leg launching the both of you off the edge. His arms tightened around you somehow more than they had been before. And for a brief second you felt wind. You still couldn't open your eyes, only focused on the feeling of almost absolute security in Raph's grip. Next was the hard landing, which jarred you out of your brief moment of warmth. He grunted, following through into a crouch and setting you down on your feet.

"You alright?" you asked him, concerned, placing a light hand on his shell.

He had a level of endurance that far exceeded the average person's, but even Raph was getting tired. He despised feeling weak, but his body was now actively working against him. He felt slow and heavy for his standards, running on fumes and secretly desperate for rest. As good of a sleep as he could get without worrying about being ambushed by something, be it human or otherwise. He knew he'd be back to the grind soon enough though because you needed sleep, too, and he would die before leaving you undefended in such a vulnerable state.

You realized then just now exhausted he was as he rose, taking in a deep breath. "I'm alright, let's just...clear the place and get in there," he said.

He approached the door into the stairwell and listened for a second before trying the knob. Locked. He was impatient to get in and finally be able to rest, so he just kicked the door in with everything he had, deciding to deal with anything that might be in there as they came. You grimaced; stairwells were awful places to fight anyone or anything.

Collecting yourself, you came over and peered in along with him. "Easy there, shouldn't we be quiet?" you questioned him in earnest.

He never intended to be rude to you, but his mood got the best of him, and he snapped back with a sigh, "Look, I'll get rid of them, okay? It's not like you're the one going in and killing them, so just stay out of the way and let me get it done."

You backed out of the doorway and shot him a look as if to say, are you serious? You knew Raph was prone to moodiness, but you'd never expected it to be targeted your way.

Shit. He slapped his hand onto the doorframe and leaned his forehead on it, groaning. Not even at you, but himself, because he'd just snapped at his only friend and ally out here at the moment. Seeing the flash of the look of hurt on your face at his words made him feel like a total asshole.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled after a minute of uncomfortable silence. He looked back at you, eyes falling on the sombreness of your expression. "I'm just tired. I'll be more careful here on out, if it makes you feel better. I know you're just trying to look out for us, trust me. I do."

"It's okay," you said softly. "Don't worry about it. Let's get in there now, yeah?" you nudged him, stepping in. You looked over the railing in search of anything suspicious. Oxidized blood, the hybrid mutagenic fluid that the Infectors secreted. No, it all appeared clean. But that didn't mean it was safe. Raph descended the stairs slowly, listening for anything he could pick up on. The two of you were surprised that it seemed clear, maybe even skeptical, but it didn't stop you as your paced picked up. Raph kept you behind him at all times with his sai out and ready.

"You think it's good?" you whisper, leaning your head over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the surroundings in the hallway you had just been lead into, still searching for any red flags.

There was nothing. No sounds, no signs of infected, and deathly quiet. The lack of noise disturbed Raph more than anything, but if it meant one night of peace, he'd take anything he could get.

"The residents must've abandoned this place when the evacs happened," you noted.

"Everyone should have stayed. Maybe then we would have had a chance of actually containing this thing and Donnie wouldn't have to be busting his ass to save us all. If that's even possible at this point."

He let his guard down a little. All he wanted to do was pick out any random apartment and take it over for the night. Trying the one on his left, the door slowly opened to reveal a messy studio, papers strewn about, cabinets still open, things discarded on the floor. He almost melted just seeing the couch, let alone a bed.

You were watching the hall just to make sure, but felt his calloused hand land on your forearm, pulling you in.

"Wow," you breathed out. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see such a mess. I feel like I haven't slept in three years," you muttered to yourself, shutting the door behind you.

Raph wandered around the room as he made his last checks behind the counters and such before he finally relaxed and slid his sais back into their holders. "No kidding," he commented. "I'd bet there's nothing to eat in here, though."

"Can't hurt to try."

Turned out that there wasn't anything but a couple of granola bars and a single bottle of water you'd found under the kitchen table. Probably rolled under there and the owner never noticed, but you were running low on your water supply, as your backpack was starting to feel light.

Raph kept the blinds closed tight in fear of being spotted from the window, even though it was practically a wasteland out there, but you couldn't help but part them a bit to catch a glimpse of the sun going down. That beautiful, warm glow that the Golden Hour produced, and the way it painted the sky. Though, it wasn't all that visible from where you were.

Sunset came and went and gave way to night. It was dark in the apartment; no electricity was being routed there, and so the only thing that lit up the area was the lone lantern you had sitting on the coffee table. Your eyelids were becoming so heavy that you couldn't stop to care if the furniture had bed bugs or other gross stuff. It was comfortable on your aching back, that's what mattered. You lay down on it and was already dozing off when Raph padded by. He stopped. You were so tired, he could see that. He could stand to stay up for a few more hours, he told himself—he would do that.

As you slept, he spent his time cleaning his weapons, adjusting his gear, snacking on what little the two of you shared. Also thinking. About how tired he was in that moment, his brothers (wherever they were), and finally...you. He found his gaze shifting from the knife in his lap that he'd been sharpening to you, sound asleep on the couch and for the first time in days, looking at peace. You had dark circles under your eyes, bumps and scrapes all over your body, yet for a little while, you'd forgotten all about it. Because you were asleep, obviously, but even though he was downright beat, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you. Not yet, at least. The clock on the wall was still ticking on. It was quiet, except for that—Raph couldn't complain. He softened watching you. There was something comforting to him about being able to drop the act and just observe you without having to talk. He wasn't always good at talking. He judged that perhaps you were only trying to fill the silence when you kept rambling or muttering, which was understandable. It made him wonder briefly if you felt awkward when he was quiet.

Raph was on his proverbial last leg in terms of his wakefulness when he heard your voice, the slightest call that was almost inaudible. He set his gear aside and shifted towards you where he sat on the coffee table, trying to figure out if you were only dreaming, or if you really needed something.

"You awake?" he whispered.

Arm dangling off the couch, you rested your face on your other hand. "Yeah," you answered through a dry throat. He remembered the bottle of water from earlier and reached into the backpack at his feet, handing it to you. He'd already drank over half of it.

"How long have you been laying there awake while I could have been getting some shut-eye?" he jested. You did your best to muster a smile, but it wasn't going. It wasn't like you to be so solemn.

He spoke again as you downed the rest of the water, "Uh...joking. Are you—"

"Can you hold me?"

You weren't looking at him. Your eyes were closed, and on the inside, you asked yourself why you'd said it. Maybe it was the mid-sleep grogginess, or you had just lost all care in the world. He was staring at you, but in the low light, you could hardly see his expression. He swallowed; oh, how this had taken him off guard.

"Just for a little bit."

He was going to stammer out something, he wasn't sure what, but anything to relieve the mix of awkward embarrassment he was feeling. He wanted to crawl into that couch with you, to feel the warmth of your body against his cold one—why couldn't he move? Why was it so hard to just say: "Yes, I can hold you."

He could fight. He could defend. What he couldn't do was comprehend his own emotions.

"I, uh…do you feel unsafe, or something?" He felt stupid to ask that, but that part of his mind wanted to rationalize your request. He would feel vulnerable in your shoes. He knew that for a fact. But really, he was aware that wasn't the case, you feeling unsafe; he was there. Your sentinel, willing to push himself as far as he possibly could, and then some.

A sigh left you, and the single word, "Please."

No more thinking. Just do.

He sat up, tentative in his approach to your tired form. You shifted back as far into the cushions of the couch that you could, offering him the space on the edge. He climbed down, and after a minute of trying to situate all of your limbs, he was finally comfortable. He would be lying to say his heart wasn't beating faster, that it didn't feel weird to drape his arm around you the way he did, being pressed against your back like that. Despite everything, it felt natural. Right. Like he'd been missing something that whole time, and as soon as he had pulled you into him, he had a revelation.

There were no words exchanged. Just the sound of the clock ticking and the both of your breaths as you were lulled back into sleep. He couldn't sleep yet. You still had an hour to go before it was his turn. Not that it bothered him. Not then; he wanted to be conscious for this, the feeling of fullness he had with how you seemed to fit against his body so well. The contrast of soft skin to his scales, his lean, solid muscles compared to your own less-developed. His fingers brushed along your wrist in some of the lightest touches he'd ever administered. His leg found its way over your own.

What started rigid and awkward now had melted him. His body hadn't felt that loose in a long time.

Whatever the next move was, he was fine with it. The team was close to finding each other after four days of separation. There was a horde forming outside, gathering up to blow through the city in one last sweep. But as long as they got where they needed to go, he didn't mind it at all.

a/n: i 100% did not feel like explaining how or why they got separated from the rest of the group just be along for the ride bby

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Come As You Are

Summary: Dean takes Y/n dress shopping for a hunt, both of them blissfully unaware of where it will lead. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.9K+

Warnings: Language, self-esteem and body image struggles, public intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it before you tap it)

Author’s Note: This was written for an anonymous request, 

“Hey babe I don’t know if your taking requests but I had a groovy idea dean x shy plus reader where they have to get the reader nice sexy clothes but she feels really uncomfortable in them and refuses to leave the dressing room and dean confess how he feels and they have sex in the dressing room ? Fluff and smut��� 

I truly enjoyed writing it so I hope it lives up to your expectations anon. Remember, feedback is like crack to writers, and we always love to hear what you thought xoxo Alex

Consider checking out a book from Alexandra’s Library!

A frown etched itself on her face as she ran her hand over the fabrics hanging from the racks. All of it felt foreign underneath her fingertips. Satin, chiffon, and everything else that was far more expensive than she was used to. Y/n’s wardrobe mostly consisted of denim and polyester blends that tended to fray after two washes. It was all that a hunter could afford, after all. 

“How in the hell are we gonna afford any of this crap?” She whispered to Dean, who was eyeing the rack behind her, the gowns in front of him all a deep shade of red. 

“Charlie’s miracle card, remember? There is no limit,” Dean raised his brow at her, a grin etched across his perfect face. 

“Fine,” she groaned. “I still don’t see why I even need to go dress shopping, I’m sure I could find something in my closet.” 

“I’ve seen your closet, and none of it is right for this case. You’ve got to distract the coroner for the night and you can’t do that in baggy jeans and flannel.” Dean huffed as he picked a dress off the rack. Y/n’s eyes went wide as she took it in, the hem was short for anyone’s standards, then add in the plunging neckline and this dress left nothing to the imagination. 

“That is so not happening,” Y/n pointed at the offensive garment, her stomach fluttering at the simple idea of even trying to slip into it. Every spot on her body that she hated would be on full display in that thing. Her thick thighs, the roll that sat on her bra just under her arms, and don’t get her started on her abdomen. 

“Come on, just try it. You never know ‘till you try it on.” 

“Ugh,” Y/n snatched the dress from his hand before stalking off to look at more dresses. There were a couple more options that she grabbed to try on that were closer to her comfortability level. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the items in her arms. But Dean had this way about him, always able to convince her to do anything without question. Maybe it was the way his skin crinkled around his eyes or the brightness that always seemed to live behind those deliciously green eyes? Who was she kidding, it was all of that and then some. The huntress had fallen hard for him from that first meeting. Sometimes she wondered why she chose to torture herself. 

Dean Winchester was the cream of the crop when it came to hunters, as was his baby brother, Sam. The whole world knew who they were, including heaven and hell, so how could she be expected to resist him when he smiled at her the way he does. Or even when he made her coffee in the mornings just how she liked it and picked up chocolate and pain killers for her when he knew it was that time of the month. He was exceedingly attentive to her, something that she was sure he only directed at Sam. It was just another thing that surprised her about the legend of a man. 

Yeah, like an idiot she fell for the eldest Winchester. There was no stopping it even though she was certain that her feelings would never be reciprocated. Y/n wasn’t like the other woman that Dean went for when he was on the prowl at bars. It’s not that she was ugly, it was that she was plain at best. People didn’t turn their heads when she walked in the room, men’s gazes didn’t linger on her from across the bar, no, Y/n was merely average. That’s how she knew that Dean would never see her as more than a friend because he had never looked at her in any form of want. 

“Are you ready to try those on?” A sales woman’s voice broke her out of her unrelenting train of thought. Dean answered for her before she could process the woman’s words. 

“Yes, please.” He smiled brightly and Y/n watched as the woman’s face flushed under his gaze. Y/n almost felt bad for the woman who was now just another victim to his charm. The saleswoman at least would be able to relish in his attention, wondering about what could have been had Y/n not been there with him. Y/n on the other hand already knew her fate. But mostly, if she was being honest, she was jealous. 

Dean put his hands on her shoulders and guided her along behind the boutique worker who took them into the back of the store where the dressing rooms were located. The area was mostly quiet, just the music from the speakers could be heard in the space. Three large mirrors sat in front of a stage on the far wall, the rooms spaning out on either side of it. In the center of the room were three plush chairs for those waiting for others to sit in. 

The worker unlocked a door for her as Dean plopped down in one of the chairs. Y/n slipped behind the door, letting out a deep breath as it closed behind her. If there was one thing she hated it was trying on clothes. Nothing ever seemed to fit her right or look anything like what it did on the hanger. It made the task a constant battle with her self-consciousness. 

Y/n had always carried extra weight on her body. It wasn’t that she didn’t live an active lifestyle, she was a hunter, after all, it was the diet that hunters were accustomed to. It was fast food and dives in every small town in America. Not many mom and pop places tended to offer an egg white omelet, and it wasn’t her inclination to eat them either. So, she had always been bigger than most, and if she was being honest she had grown used to that. Maybe she used it as a shield to protect herself. Making connections with people as a hunter only tended to end in heartbreak, so this was easier. 

The hunter hid the scary red thing Dean had selected behind all the rest of her haul, hoping she would find something before she ever even got to the thing. Y/n stripped from her flannel and jeans tossing them on the bench in the corner. She also added her bra to the pile, knowing all of these garments necessitated that she did not wear one. That left her in her favorite pair of panties. They weren’t anything special, but they made her butt looked its best.

The first dress in the line up was a straight black dress that hit just above her knee. The neckline wasn’t anything too crazy but the sleeves rolled off the shoulders a strip of fabric wrapping around her bust. Y/n was able to slip it on and tug up the zipper on the side. With a slide of her hands against the fabric, she frowned at her reflection. Not that it would flatter any figure, in her opinion. 

“What’s taking so long in there?” Dean called out from his spot in front of the mirrors.

“I’m not coming out in this thing,” she called back as she began to take the dress back off. 

“Oh, come on sweetheart,” 

“Nope, next,” Y/n heard him huff even through the door and she imagined he rolled his eyes as well. 

The next dress was a deep blue color. It had a wrap and pencil skirt, with an asymmetrical shape between the hem and the neckline. She supposed it was pretty but it also kind of looked like she had wrapped herself in a towel. Mostly, she felt like the point in the neckline was going to stab her in the throat, and she was not sure how to be sexy when she was trying not to die. It was another pass for her. 

There was only one dress left, and at that moment she was wishing to whoever was listening that she had picked out a few more choices. Dean was whistling now, some Zeppelin tune she couldn’t exactly identify and she knew he was getting impatient. Y/n swapped the fabrics on her body, pulling the thin straps of the red satin piece up onto her shoulders. The dress clung to her skin, the fabric lightweight. 

“Y/n/n,” Dean’s voice was just outside the door, the new proximity of it startling her. “Come on, you have to show me at least one. I know you and you’ll just try vetoing them all.” Y/n swore under her breath because he was right and it pissed her off that he knew her that well. The zipper was out of her reach on her back and she supposed she wouldn’t be able to truly see what it looked like on her unless she zipped it up. 

“Fine, I need help with this zipper anyway,” she sighed and held the fabric against her naked chest while opening the door with her other. Dean was beaming when he came into view on the other side of the door. He snuck inside faster than a flea, the slamming of the door startling her again. 

Get it together woman, you kill monsters for a living, Y/n cursed herself. 

“Turn,” Dean instructed her with his fingers, and the woman obliged as she faced the mirror. Dean brushed her hair off her shoulder with his fingertips, the action barely distinguishable but it sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. With one hand holding the bottom stop, he used the other to tug on the pull tab, sliding together the teeth in one fluid motion. 

“Thanks,” Y/n’s words were soft as she made eye contact with the green-eyed hunter in the mirror. He ran his tongue of his bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh between his teeth as his eyes wandered over her exposed skin. 

Y/n visibly cringed as she looked at herself. Unfortunately, this was her favorite out of the three, but that didn’t mean she felt like she could venture anywhere in public in the thing. “Sweetheart, if that coroner hadn’t already been eyeing you up today, he would not know where to start when he sees you in this.” 

“Shut up,” Y/n scrunched her nose as she spun around to whack Dean’s shoulder. “You are so full of it.”

“Am not,” Dean scoffed, his eye softening before he continued. “Y/n, why don’t you see how beautiful you are?”

Y/n whipped around to stare at him, her arms crossing over her chest, not believing that those words come out of his mouth. Surely, he was playing with her…

“Have you looked at me, Dean?” Y/n slapped her hands against her thighs, emphasizing their jiggle upon impact. “I’m nothing special.” 

“I have looked at you,” His gaze traveled down her body again, his breath hitching slightly as he did so. “I’ve been looking at you for a while now.” The drop in Dean’s voice sent heat rushing through her body, the gravel undertone making her shiver. 

“Dean--” words escaped her as the hunter stepped into her personal space, pushing her back against the mirror. Dean’s left hand came to rest against the reflective surface just beside her head as he chewed on his lip. 

“I don’t think you know how hard it is for me to keep my eyes off of you,” he leaned into her, his nose brushing alongside hers. “And now, seeing you in this dress, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.” 

A rush of confidence coursed through her blood as his hot breath fanned over her face and Y/n slipped her hands behind his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. The movement was anything but smooth, though the action sent both of the hunters into action. Dean growled as he nipped her lower lip and she opened up to him, allowing his tongue to invade her mouth. 

A moan involuntarily came from her as his hands moved to her hips, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin material where his finger pressed into her flesh. He stepped back, pulling her after him as he backed up and dropped to sit on the plush bench. Dean bunched up the material to her hips as he urged her to straddle his lap. Y/n used her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the new bulge in his pants a surprise to her as she settled in his lap. 

“Yeah, and you thought I was kidding,” Dean took in the slight rise in her brow, leaning forward to run his lips across her jaw, taking note of the places that made her shiver. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she allowed Dean to explore her body and let herself just feel him. Dean raked his teeth along with the shell of her ear, causing her to buck her hips and both of them to groan.  

“Fuck,” her words were a breath on her lips as she repeated the action, the roughness of his jeans just enough friction on her aching sex. 

“That’s it, beautiful, take what you need,” Dean sat back and used his hands to keep her body moving against his own, watching the way her brows scrunched together in the center of her forehead. With a shift of his hips, he had her pushed back and straddling his left thigh, his hands still in their place on her hips. “Can you come like this, sweetheart?”

“I don’t--” a jolt of electricity had her halting her denial, instead she chose to just nod and place her hands against his chest to balance her movement. She could feel Dean’s heart hammering in his chest under her palm and the quick rise and fall of his breath. Even at this moment, she was disbelieving that he was that turned on watching her get herself off on his thigh, but she had the proof hammering under her fingertips. Y/n was biting her lip to keep quiet in the small room. “Dean, I’m so close.” 

“I’ve got you, come for me, Y/n,” he husked as his grip tightened, though she wasn’t sure how that was even possible, seeing as there was already gonna be bruises there later, that she was sure of. The sound of his voice reverberating in her head had the coil snapping inside of her, heat flooding her body as every nerve sparked and faded out. A rush of air left her lungs, her body slumping as her muscles relaxed post-orgasm. 

“Oh my god.” As her arousal ebbed from her body and the reality of what just happened came to her sense, Y/n clammed up and she tried to climb from his lap. Blood rushed to her face and her hands flew to her cheeks to hide the heat settling there.

“Woah, where are you going?” Dean stopped her from making a hasty exit, his eyes searching hers in question. 

“Dean, what the hell just happened?” 

A smirk replaced the confusion on his face as he leaned forward and nuzzled his face in her neck, tracing his tongue up her pulse. “You just got yourself off on my thigh while I tried not to cream my jeans,” he breathed in her ear. It was like he already knew every button to push on her body, his dirty talk doing everything she needed it to for her body to already be aching for him again. 

“I--”

“Shh, sweetheart. That was hot as fuck, and all I want now is to be buried deep inside that pretty pussy of yours.” 

“Jesus,” her eyes shifted to his, taking in the mischievous glint shining behind his iris. “You aren’t kidding.”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ at the end of his word and Y/n nodded as she climbed off him. She turned her back to him so he could undo the zipper, and it took a second for Dean to catch on to her silent action. He jumped to the edge of the bench and tugged down the zipper before sliding the material down her shoulders. Dean hooked his fingers into the edge of her panties, placing a kiss on the dip in her lower back before pulling the soaked material to pool at her feet along with the dress. He stood then as she turned back to him and pushed his jacket and flannel down his arms, adding it to the pile of discarded clothes in the room. 

“Come, on we don’t have a lot of time before someone gets suspicious.” There was a quiver in her voice as she lifted the hem of his tee and tugged open his belt. It was taking everything in her to quell the shaking in her hands. Dean’s fingers came down to wrap around her wrists, halting her movement and she looked up at him. 

“Y/n we don’t have to,” he was trying to read her mind as he examined her face. The trepidation was seeping through her pores, but not because she didn’t want this. Hell, the painful ache between her legs told her how much she wanted this, but her brain couldn’t help to race through the million thoughts about what it all meant. 

“No, I-- God do I want this,” Y/n began chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried to come up with the words to explain to him what she was thinking. But the longer the time passed the more nervous she grew, standing there stark naked and he’s still basically fully dressed. “I think I’ve wanted this for a long time now, but I’m just scared.”

“Of?” He urged her to continue.

“That this doesn’t mean the same thing to you,” Y/n cast her glance down, her eyes fixated on the way the fluorescent light glinted in the metal of his belt. 

“You think that this is about getting my dick wet for me.” It wasn’t a question, because she had all but spelled it out for him. “Y/n,” He put his fingers under her chin and turned her head back up to his, brushing his lips against hers, the action soft and unhurried. “I told you, I’ve been watching you for a while now, trying to learn everything I could about you. I would have done this the first night I met you if I hadn’t thought about what it would do to you. But I’m done being scared because I think I fell for you a long time ago and no amount of whiskey or other women could make me forget that. So I’m done fighting it.” 

“Yeah?” Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears now, and Dean answered her with another kiss, pulling her body flush against his own as he invaded her mouth. The pair only pulled apart when they could no longer fight the need for air. “Dean--”

“Yeah,” he breathed, dropping his grip on her to finish what she started with his belt. Y/n watched his movements, her breath getting caught in her throat as she watched him pull his length from its cotton confines. Dean signaled for her to turn with one hand as he stroked himself with the other. She obliged, of course, and Dean pushed her gently between her shoulder blades until her hands were pressed against the mirror. He nudged her legs to open a tad wider, meeting her gaze in the mirror. 

“Do we--” 

“I’m good if you’re good,” she told him, knowing where he was going with his question. He nodded to her before lining himself up with her entrance. Dean held her gaze as he entered her from behind, both of them sighing together as he became fully seated. Y/n closed her eyes as she tried to compose herself, her head falling between her arms. 

“Fuck, open your eyes, look at yourself,” Dean was biting his tongue as he swatted her ass to get her to lift her head again. She indulged him, looking at herself in the mirror before turning her eyes back to his in the mirror. “There you go,” he praised her, the words like music to her ears as he pulled back out and slammed into her hips. 

Dean set up a steady rhythm, careful to not shake the walls of the dressing too much with his movement. The couple kept their eyes on each other in the mirror, the moment the most erotic thing she could ever remember doing, but for the life of her, she couldn’t be bothered by it. Even from her vantage point, she could see how blown his pupils were, the black of his iris’ all but drowning out the green that she loved so much. To be honest, she wasn’t sure which she liked more now. All she did know was the feeling of him moving inside her and the way her muscles were shaking. 

A small knock had Dean stilling his movements, and Y/n stood up, pressing her back against his chest. He slipped an arm around her chest as she signaled for him to be silent. “You doing alright in there?” 

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and let out a breath, “Yeah,” she called back, afraid her voice would be too wrecked if she said anything else. 

“Is there anything else I can get you? Maybe some different sizes?” The saleswoman tried again. 

“Nope, I’m all set, thank you.” 

“Okay, just let me know.” The sound of her footsteps could be heard retreating from the dressing room, and Dean pressed his face into her neck, the pair of them chuckling. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he adjusted their position, resuming the movement of his hips as he snaked his free hand down to rub against her clit. Y/n jolted in his arms at the contact, this time closing her eyes as he built her back up. “I’m right behind you. Can you come for me again?” Y/n nodded against him, her hands flying to his forearm as she felt herself jumping over the cliff, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her knees buckled and Dean had to adjust himself to keep her from falling, still fucking her from behind as her fluttering walls milked him to his own orgasm. He bit into her shoulder to keep himself from groaning out loud. 

“Sweet Jesus,” her body went limp in his arms as the pair of them caught their breath in the now muggy space. 

“Yeah, you are so not going out with that coroner tonight. We will find a different way.” Dean admitted as he pulled his now softening cock from her. Y/n flinched at the feeling and the subsequent rush of his release inside her. 

“What?” She turned to him as he began righting himself, not understanding why he didn’t want her to do her job.

“‘Cause you are all mine now,” Dean tugged her into his chest, his fingers around one of her biceps. “And I want to spend all night making sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” Dean laughed as she blinked at him, clearly lost for any sort of coherent answer to what he just told her. 

“Get dressed so we can get out of here and kick Sammy out of our motel room.” Dean tapped her ass again and she pushed him away from her, a stupid grin on both of their faces.

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

[boop-le-snoot]

Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (January 24/2021) - The Eggpire Makes Its Move

Today is the day of the Egg!

Fundy returns and theorizes a possible connection between the Crimson and Dreamons, the Eggpire exposes Tommy to the Crimson for the first time, and Sam runs into a bit of trouble at the end.

Meanwhile, Puffy is caught in the middle of everything, wondering what she’s to do about all of this.

Also, Tales From the SMP continued with a new episode set in the far future!

As usual, a short summary of the week’s total events is at the end of this post.

---

- HBomb hosts Badboyhalo and Captain Puffy’s episode of L’Cast!

- Fundy comes online after a short break! He is intensely confused by everything, especially the Blood Vines.

- Fundy speaks with Puffy, who starts filling him in on what’s going on with the Egg.

- Fundy goes around graffitiing the Eggpire propaganda like Ranboo did.

- Puffy leads Fundy to Church Prime to get hazmat suits to visit the Egg.

- They go down to the spider spawner. Fundy starts hearing Ranboo screaming. Tubbo has learned how to weaponize Catmaid HBomb against him.

- Puffy shows Fundy the Egg. A new Egg has appeared on top of the first one...

- Fundy realizes that he recognizes the room. Back in the second Dreamon Hunter stream, where they recruited Sapnap, he’d told Badboyhalo to dig out the room for a Dreamon Hunter base.

Tubbo didn’t think Bad should be involved, though, so they ended up leaving him out of it to continue digging the room anyway.

Fundy suspects the Egg...May be connected to a Dreamon taking advantage of Bad.

- Puffy shows him the Eggpire meeting place. Fundy thinks that Bad has gone bad. 

- Ranboo comes by and Fundy and Puffy try to get his attention, but he doesn’t seem to notice them. He just keeps walking, picking up grass blocks and placing them elsewhere. Both of them are surprised.

- Puffy makes eye contact with him and suddenly she can’t move. Ranboo then disappears.

- Fundy starts creating a conspiracy cork board in the museum trying to figure out how everything that’s been going on could connect, from Ranboo to Badboyhalo to Dream in the prison to Glatt, Phil...everything.

- Puffy fills Fundy in on what he missed in the Finale. Fundy is shocked to learn of Schlatt’s book and Dream losing two lives. 

Puffy tells Fundy that Dream’s now stuck in the prison.

- Fundy gives his hypothesis on how everything connects. 

Dream cheating on Fundy is connected to Schlatt is connected to George not logging on which is connected to the nukes which are connected to Charlie which is connected to red which is connected to the Egg and BBH.

Red is the key.

And red + blue = green, which is why Dream is involved!

And Techno?

THIS IS THE POTATO WAR SEQUEL.

IT’S BEEN THE POTATO WAR THIS ENTIRE TIME.

- Fundy makes a BBH diss track.

- Tommy comes online. For some reason, where are a bunch of random grass blocks clogging up his room.

- Tommy goes to Sam Nook, who informs him about the red Egg and its danger to his construction plans. 

- Fundy confronts Tommy as well and tells him about the red that’s been spreading around.

- Tommy finds Antfrost at the mansion. His eyes have gone pink.

- They speak. Antfrost tells Tommy about the Eggpire and asks if he would like to join.

- Bad comes over without his disguise on. Tommy notices it and he quickly puts on the disguise.

- Tommy asks Bad about the Egg, who also says it’s very great.

- Antfrost repeatedly speaks in Standard Galactic, sending cryptic messages about the Egg and Tommy’s fate being sealed.

- The Eggpire members attempt to bring Tommy under the influence of the Crimson by exposing him to the Egg’s effects in the Egg chamber. Though the Crimson upsets Tubbo greatly, Tommy is left unaffected by it, meaning he is like Punz and Sam and possibly resistant to its effects.

He doesn’t hate it nor love it, but is simply neutral.

- Sam Nook comes to the rescue and Tommy and Tubbo escape the Eggpire before long.

- Sam Nook orders Tommy to destroy the Reverse Coaster before he can continue with the construction of the hotel.

- Ranboo and Techno go exploring together. Ranboo uses his newfound powers to get a spawner and some cake.

---

It’s time for Tales From the SMP: “The Lost City of Mizu!”

Four average fishermen, hundreds of years in the future, who have heard the events of present-day SMP as folklore, stumble across some evidence that leads them to believe these old stories may be real...

---

The Cast:

Karl’s character’s name is Isaac.

Dream’s character’s name is Ranbob.

Bad is Benjamin.

Ranboo is Charles.

Quackity is Cletus.

---

- There’s a book left at their front door, telling them of stories that have been passed down from generation to generation. 

There’s a lost underwater city that could hold information about the history of this world.

Signed,

K.

- They hop into boats to travel to the coordinates.

- They reach the Lost City. There’s a welcome book there that speaks of the “Great Disc Wars” of the past.

- They find a strange man in the underwater city who comes to greet them.

- Ranbob tells them about how he’s been so lonely down here alone.

- He leads them to the Community Room. There’s a hallway that leads to a locked door, and Ranbob doesn’t know where the key is.

- Ranbob shows them the Cafeteria. He’s been stuck down there so long, his memory isn’t very good.

- There’s a room with a mural full of George portraits. Ranbob tells them the tale of George: greatest king to ever rule during the Disc Wars. The longest-reigning king over the SMP, as proven by the pictures found all over the ancient area.

Eret was the tyrant who tried to take over with an iron fist, killing George.

- There’s another chamber dedicated to a man named Ranboo. Ranbob is a descendant of Ranboo on his mother’s side, and his ancestors were the Book-keepers. The people with the best memories who wrote down the history books to know what happened. Ranboo was the greatest of scholars, a writer who documented everything. His memory was supreme.

- Isaac finds a key to Sapnap’s room, the room of the great warrior.

- Sapnap was a brute with a love of pets who started the great Pet War over his defense of them. There’s a historic axe reminiscent of the ones used to cut down Ponk’s Great Tree. He apparently had many wives.

- They find an abandoned farm. Someone poisoned the soil long ago.

- The people of Mizu held a Council meeting on their decreasing food supply.

- Bob leads them to the power room.

- Next, they enter the room of Fundy. The residents of Mizu were unsure if Fundy was a pet or a person. Perhaps Tommy’s pet? 

- They find a key to the Quackity room.

- Ranbob says his memory has been damaged after years of loneliness and torment. For some reason he’s carrying TNT.

- Quackity was incredibly stupid, but very nice. A nudist bard who pranked other members of the server, who idolized Skeppy. He kept to his optimism despite all the chaos that surrounded him, perhaps because he was too dumb to understand the tragedy of what was happening.

- Next is Skeppy’s room. Skeppy had some type of poisoning that made him bright blue, so rich his skin was diamond-coated. He may have been married to Badboyhalo. He may have turned yellow.

- Badboyhalo’s room looks a little similar to the Crimson...Bad was a powerful magician and prolific swearer. 

- The next room is a bit of a mystery. There’s an ancient cartoon on the TV. This character’s room needs access to the water. One moment he seems important, the next he’s nowhere to be found.

- Next is the Tubbo room, full of beehives and honey, and an ancient picture of a revolution on the wall. Tubbo was one of the great Manburg Warriors, a leader whose greatest follower was Tommy. Directly upstairs from Tubbo’s room is Tommy’s, who was married to his wife, the Queen. 

Tommy liked to collect damaged plates with holes in the middle.

- Ranbob leads them to the Tree Dome Room. In it is a great tree, some swings, and a little wooden bench with a jukebox beside it. Ranbob goes missing.

- Ranbob returns and burns the tree after Cletus climbs it. Cletus burns to death. People don’t live after coming here...Ranbob blows himself up.

- There may be a way to survive, but no one ever returns from the City of Mizu.

- There’s a room full of lava and parkour. Benjamin is chosen to traverse it. Isaac gives “Benji” a kiss first. He doesn’t make it out alive. Isaac attempts it next. He makes it and obtains the final room key.

- Dream’s room.

- Ranbob appears in the doorway.

Ranbob: “Everybody here had an idol that they worshipped...and mine was Dream.”

-

Isaac: “Was Dream a good man?”

Ranbob: “...Yes...Yes, he was a very good man...depending on what you think ‘good’ is. Nobody...Nobody leaves here.”

- Ranbob kills them both, ending it.

...

- Karl is in his library, writing the tale...of the Lost City of Mizu. He puts the book and its poster in their place.

- He then writes the first entry of his diary.

Every time he travels, he forgets a little more. Maybe one day he’ll forget who he is entirely. He wonders if he should stop, but decides he must keep going, attempt to right some wrongs and steer the world in the correct path.

Don’t forget who you are.

---

- Bad comes online, thinking about the events of earlier. He’s surprised that Tommy, while NOT immune to the Egg, is neutral to it.

- Bad plans to carve a tunnel all the way to the Egg so that the Egg’s influence can flow unobstructed, hopefully speeding up the growth of the Vines.

- They planned to feed Tommy to the Egg, but it didn’t seem to be working.

- Bad and Antfrost confront Sam. Sam is fed up with the two of them getting muddled in the Egg business and wants them to put a stop to it. Sam Nook was acting on Sam’s orders.

As an affiliate to both Tommy and Tubbo through their building projectts, Sam has a personal reason to be upset with the Egg. Sam doesn’t want Tommy’s mental state deteriorating because he’s set to get a share of the profits of the hotel.

- Puffy is horrified that Bad would take children down to the Egg without hazmat suits.

- Antfrost’s eyes have gone full red.

- Bad tries to convince Sam that his priorities are backwards.

Bad: “Sometimes, in order to become a hero, you have to start off as a villain.”

- Bad insists that they need the Egg as a uniting force. Something that everyone can agree upon that it’s a bad thing, so that they can all come together to fight it as one.

- Sam is furious at the suggestion that Tommy needs to go. He’s aware of the things that Dream did to Tommy in exile because Dream’s been telling him.

- Finally, Bad gives in and agrees that the Egg has been influencing him too much. He asks Sam to put all his stuff in a chest. Sam refuses, but agrees to give his pickaxes to Antfrost.

- He leads Sam to stand in the middle of the Meeting Room. He gives Sam a hug  and presses a button that opens a door directly beneath him, shooting Sam down into the Egg Room, right on top of it. They lock him in there until he learns to love it and attempt to kill Puffy.

Sam fell right into the obsidian objects that had appeared on top of the Egg, now trapped in it. Bad poked holes in there so that he could be infected through it.

- Puffy is horrified, saying that Bad is starting to sound like Dream. She runs to the Holy Land.

Puffy: “Everyone I care about’s getting locked up somewhere!”

- The two of them lead Puffy to the Egg.

- Puffy tries and fails to convince them that she’s come under the Egg’s control. They don’t fall for it and give her a ten second headstart to start running. Puffy escapes.

- Puffy makes it to the safe room. She needs to speak with Fundy and get things back under control. She digs a tunnel and starts making a new cork board to try and remember all the lines she and Fundy made to connect everything.

- Puffy is horrified at the idea of the Dreamons being involved. Is Dream connected to this too?

- Puffy writes an entry in the Captain’s Log. She’s done being a knight. It means nothing.

Puffy: “It’s time for anarchy. It’s time for the people, not for the factions.”

- She goes to the Crater to think of all the memories that had been wiped away. How did it come to this?

Puffy: “I’d rather have had Dream than this. At least Dream knew his limits sometimes.”

- She plans on trying to set Sam free tomorrow and perhaps seek out Technoblade eventually.

---

Upcoming Events:

- Everyone and their mom wants to visit Dream at some point

- Nuclear weapons test (January 26th)

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

1/18: Founding of the Syndicate, Hannah joins the server, Eggpire propaganda

1/19: HBomb leaves home, Tommy’s last night, Punz’s discovery

1/20: SEASON TWO FINALE

1/21: Snowchester declares independence, Tommy’s visit with Dream

1/22: Slimecicle joins the server

1/23: The Fever Dream Episode, start of the capitalism plot

1/24: The Eggpire attacks, Tales From the SMP: “The Lost City of Mizu”

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

six

the boys in the club.

As soon as practice ended, you had just finished writing in the journal, signing off a few things, eyes glued to your written analysis and observations bent on heading home. Kaoru needed help with one of his homework and asked you earlier to help him.

Just then, a familiar voice called out to you.

“(Y/N)!”

Looking up, you meet the kind gaze of Aran. “We’re headin’ to that new boba shop by the station, wanna come with?” Behind him were Akagi, Oomimi, Kita, and a few other players, watching you with inviting smiles.

You paused, gripping on to your notebook.

Thing was, it had been a few days since the incident. As much as your seniors meant no harm, you didn’t want a reminder of your humiliation.

More importantly, this was Ojiro Aran – out of everyone in the team, he was the one who knew the twins best and the one of the few people they respected, he was their straightman as much as a big brother figure to them. And because you were associated with the twins, he had the same reception with you - if not, kinder and softer. Something akin to concern swam in those dark eyes of his, to which you had to ignore.

Atsumu – who was watching with a glare, brown eyes burning at you, threatening – would hate you even more for trying to take Aran from him.

And so, you shake your head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass. But please, enjoy for me.”

Without another word, you nodded at them all, ignoring the sad look in their eyes, and left.

"Torino?"

"Karasuno," you corrected, almost exasperatedly. Seriously, how old was Coach Kurosu again?

Realization dawns on him. "Ah, haven't heard that name in a while."

"Are they any good?"

"Dunno, they're an old powerhouse."

Humming, you look back at the pamphlet in your hands. "A rather glorious comeback, wouldn't you say?"

The older man pulls his head back, barking in laughter. "That's a rather poetic way of saying it!"

It would be something your captain would say, but currently, he's busy having a practice match with the rest of the team.

As always, with him on the court, everyone played to their best and didn't half-ass or slack. Heck, even Suna was doing some work!

But of course, there were his plays - graceful, smooth, and focused solely on the defense.

Definitely a clear cut choice of captain, the standard, in your opinion.

"Aran-san, nice serve!"

A blur of yellow and blue flies to his hand, dribbling it with his one hand as he walks to the end of the court and waits for the whistle. With him serving, it had everyone on high alert.

The ball flies up in the air, Ojiro runs up, hands raised to meet the falling ball, sending it flying to the other side of the court just barely touching the outer line. Still an in.

Definitely an ace alright, enough to be recognized in the country’s top 5 aces.

Whoever the next ace was – it’s going to be a tough call between Osamu and Ginjima - they have big shoes to fill.

Quickly, you write in your notebook.

'Ojiro serves: Ins - 5, Outs - 1'

After a week of exams, it was only natural that people reverted back to their normal state – you with managerial duties for the school’s illustrious volleyball club. Fresh out of the burn of their academics, everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

"What're you standing around the court for? Chase after it!" Coach Kurosu yells. "Geez, my dog chases balls better than these nitwits."

And there's his dog analogy, you thought to yourself, hilarious as always to hear.

On the other side of the court was a team composed of Suna, Osamu, Atsumu, and Ginjima - the trouble children, and two other second years. Opposing them were the third years - Kita, Akagi, Oomimi, Aran, one third year, and another second year.

Honestly, your captain would've done well as libero, with his amazing receiving skills and read of the ball's trajectory. He wasn't the team's defensive specialist for nothing. Nevertheless, as a wing spiker, he does well for his part. Regardless if his skills were average, just the way he presents himself in and out of the court was astounding.

"Suna, nice serve!" you called out, watching the tall boy walk back in line.

Just as the whistle blew, the ball was sent flying in the air leaving the opposing team scrambling.

For one rather lackadaisical, Suna's techniques were something. If only he gave his all in all of his games.

'Suna serves: Ins - 4, Outs - 0'

Seeing gray-dyed, you closely watched as Osamu toy with the current blockers, not once intimidated by Oomimi, the top blocker of the team.

As the ball appeared before him, instead of spiking it, he tossed it to his waiting twin, sending the ball to the other court. A flash of gold - a hungry look in his eyes as the ball goes the way he wanted it to go, enough to blind from your spot.

"The twins are on point today as usual," Coach Kurosu says with a nod. You nod with him, writing into your logbook.

'Miya Twins quicks: success - 6, fails - 1'

Yep, everyone was definitely in high spirits today.

Your thoughts and observations were echoed by the two coaches after practice, after congratulating them for all doing a great job during the previous week. Exams were no laughing matter, they were a test to see one’s mental and academic capability – as they were all students.

Now that you think about it, as Coach Oomi was telling off a few of the boys, you had to follow up on their performance once the results were out. Normally, they’d get their test results in a week’s time, probably.

After that, a short break for the holidays.

Must be nice…

"Ah, by the way," you call out, making your presence known and just before the coaches ended today’s practice.

All eyes were on you, attention on high. Turning to your coaches pointedly, expectantly, they only stared back, question in their eyes. Frowning, your head tilted slightly, they stared back. The frown on your face deepened, unamused.

Seriously?

Planting your hand on your hip, your expression sours. "You both forgot, didn't you?" they winced.

"A-Ah, you have to be specific, (L/N)." Coach Oomi defended, Coach Kurosu nodding beside him.

Your frown only deepened, eyes narrowing.

"We just talked about it before practice started," though your voice was even, there was enough bite to it. And though older than you, the two men felt small under your reprimanding gaze. More so when you sighed, as though you've said too much. “And you both told me to remind you about it before we end today’s practice.”

As the team watched, they felt just as though you were talking to the lot of them – your voice thick with disappointment. Kita watched, unaffected by it all almost amused by it all.

With a sigh, you turned to the team, eyes easily finding blond-dyed hair. "Miya Atsumu,"

The setter straightens at the sound of his name. "Y-Yes?"

Lifting your lips up, a gentle smile filled your face.  "Congratulations, you've been selected to join the All-Japan Youth Camp." You say with a smile – a true, genuine, and proud smile, despite knowing that you were the last person he’d like to hear it from.

Something in Atsumu starts at the sight of it.

It took a second for him to process your words, before he burst into joy. “Y-Yosha!”

Congratulations were tossed his way left and right from his teammates. Beside you, it seemed as though it finally came to the coaches as they sheepishly scratched the back of their heads, avoiding your gaze.

"W-Wait, how about 'Samu?" Atsumu asked, directing his question to you.

The smile on your face thinned. "Sadly, there's an invite for only one Miya."

Interestingly enough, Osamu’s only reaction was to blink, his gray-brown eyes becoming distant.

"B-But-"

"Should you have any concerns or queries, feel free to approach any of the coaches." There was a finality to your tone, causing the older men to jump.

“A-Ah, right. Thank you for that, (L/N).” says Coach Kurosu, smiling at you, apologetically and gratefully. He got a nod from you. “Again, congratulations Atsumu. Now for the rest of y’all, I don’t want the rest of you slacking behind just because of this, y’hear me?”

“No coach,” they replied.

“Alright, good. Dismissed.”

(A few days before his leave for Tokyo, Atsumu was at school with a rare free period shared with Osamu, Suna, and Ginjima. They all decided to head to the library, in lieu of studying but to loiter in actuality.

Atsumu was gushing to the brim, excitement in his bones to meet some interesting volleyball players from all across the nation. Heck, he might even see that one annoying player with the wicked spins on his serves.

“Ah, that’s Itachiyama’s Sakusa,” Ginjima says.

“Isn’t he one of the top high school aces in the country?” Osamu asked, voice thinly veiled with curiosity.

“Actually, he’s the top ace.” Suna said without looking up from his phone, fingers tapping and sliding every few seconds.

“Shit, for real?”

“He even beat Aran!”

A loud shush sounded off, the student librarian glaring at their table. The four boys quieted down, Osamu shoving at his twin, who retaliated with his own shove before Ginjima stepped in to break it off.

“Man, I’m gonna meet a buncha interesting people!” the setter gushes, he was practically radiating it off. In all their years playing volleyball, this was actually the first time that Atsumu was going alone. Although they talked it out with his twin, Atsumu sharing it with his brother and friends make it believable that he isn’t alone in this, it was enough to fill his spirits. (Nobody tell him he’s lonely about going alone, though)

“Just don’t go off starting a ruckus,” Osamu stands from his seat, because the student assistant was glaring holes into their table. He comes back a moment later with some books in his hands, a mix of cookbooks, sports, and literature books.

From his seat, the student assistant looked appeased by the sight of books before turning back to his duties. Their group exchanged snickers, returning to their idle state.

Just then, through the open doors, Ginjima caught sight of you passing by “Ah, it’s manager.”

Atsumu never turned so quickly on his life – which the Ginjima found rather comical – indeed finding you out the hallway uniform nice and tidy as always, not a hair out of place, with arms filled with textbooks.

With Kusakabe beside you.

It made his blood boil for some reason, seeing the two of you together – when there were a few other classmates as well. You’ve become close with Mr. Four-Eyes, it seems.

“Ah, she chose an extra class, right?”

“That’s right.” Osamu answered with a nod. “Chemistry, I believe.” To which everyone deflated at, it was a science with a bunch of math. Yet, unsurprisingly, it was rather fitting for you. It shouldn't also surprise them that you chose to add an extra class instead of having free time like them. College prep kids were built different, it seems.

Recovering, Ginjima watches the back of your head as he comments. “Ah, I keep forgetting manager’s in a college prep class.”

“Wasn’t her big sister in one, too?” asked Suna, looking up for once, chin resting on his folded arms.

When you were out of sight, Atsumu turned back to his group. “I think so? She was in Class 5?”

“Manager’s in Class 7, though.” Ginjima stated.

Suna scoffs. “There’s just a 2 difference.”

“Aren’t they just the same, though?” Atsumu frowned, now recalling how each of the (L/N) siblings were intellectuals. Mika, you, and Kaoru were all in honor’s classes, with you being in the classes for all of your middle school, junior high, and probably all of high school. Kaoru might even follow in your footsteps if he can balance soccer and his studies.

“Pretty much, I guess.”

“Nah, (Y/N)’s the smarter sibling.” Osamu answered again, rather smoothly almost defensively. “She’s been part of the top students since middle school.”

Ginjima and Suna hums, with the latter going back to browsing his phone.

“Osamu, you know a great deal about manager, huh?”

The corner of his lips twitch, briefly meeting his twin’s gaze before plucking a random book from their stack. “Yeah well, she’s my best friend.”

My best friend, Osamu says. Not ‘our’.

Ah, yeah, there was that. He couldn’t share the joy with you anymore.)

Walking down the busy hall, students flocking every corner, you carefully maneuvered even without looking up. What’s more, you were at the third year’s floor – which should intimidate lower year levels, but not you.

Glancing you, you found Class 5 and approached the door.

“Excuse me,” you asked the student closest to the door. “Is Aran-san around?”

“Ojiro?” turning to the room, the student called out. “Hmm, ah, there he is. Oi, Ojiro, someone’s here for you!”

As soon as he was called, a tall figure stands from his seat, eyes widening at the sight of you. He raises a hand as he approaches. “Yo, (Y/N), what’s up?”

“Ah, we’ve run low on some supplies,” you reported, hands folded behind you.

Almost immediately, he falls into vice-captain mode. “Yes, that! Well, don’t worry about inventory check because Shinsuke and I did them for you.”

“Really?" unconsciously, your shoulders relaxed. "That’s a relief.”

Aran's whole face softens down at you. “Hey, as captain and vice-captain, we’re both obliged to at least ease our manager’s burdens. We can help out, too, y'know?” You had to smile at that. “Just gimme a sec, I’ll get the list.”

You watch Aran walk back to his seat, leaving you alone to look around his classroom. It was no different than yours, except there was a certain feel to it. In fact, everyone in the room - although were, very much like you, students - had a feel that was different about them. Third years, huh?

“Here we go,” Aran returns with some papers in his hands.

“Thank you very much,”

“Now, don’t forget to ask the coaches-“

“Will do. By the way, how’s your little sister?” A little small talk couldn’t hurt, right?

The older teen sort of frowns, the same frown he uses on the twins. “I swear, the older she gets the more she’s getting on my nerves!”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you stifled a laugh, failingly. If you remember correctly, Aran’s little sister was just Kaoru’s age.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh about it all you want.” Sighing, he threw his hands in the air. “Why can’t she be more like you?”

“Cold, stoic, barely human?”

He sputtered, gesticulating rather dramatically. “Oi!”

“It’s the truth.”

Grumbling, he clears his throat, fixes himself into his big brother persona, arms folded over his chest for added effect. “I wish she was more collected and responsible, like you.”

“A ringing endorsement from one of the top high school aces, I’m flattered.”

Sharing laughter, he reached over to ruffle his hand over your head. “You at least deserve to be complimented every once in a while.”

You hum, warmed by his words. "You could at least just talk it out with her, that's how I deal with Kaoru."

"Yeah, but she doesn't take me seriously."

"Neither does Kaoru," Aran looks surprised by this, you can't blame him, your younger brother was a brat and a lot to deal with. "However, it does help to aptly remind him time and time again of his misdemeanor. You most certainly have to be strict with managing him but also respect their feelings. In addition, you must speak to them like a child and not a subject of some sort."

For some reason, he felt a chill run down his spine. "S-Sheesh, you sound like Shinsuke when you say that."

Unable to help yourself, the corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk-like smile. "Who do you think taught me all those?"

His expression flattens, eyes shut as it comes to him. "Ah. Man. Geez."

He then sighs in defeat, shoulders lifting and dropping. "Still wished she turned out like you, (Y/N)."

"Trust me, you don't want a boring little sister. Anyway, good luck with her though."

"Will do, thanks for the tips," he mutters a few things under his breath, something like a prayer.

Tucking the papers aside, you just about turned to leave when you nearly run into someone.

“Atsumu, watch where you’re going ya lug!” Aran says behind you. 

“S-Sorry-“ he looks down, eyes widening when he realizes he crashed into you, you blink back in concern. “S-Sorry-!”

“No, I’m sorry for not paying attention to my surroundings.” Taking a step back, you found Osamu, Suna, and Ginjima behind him - giving them all a bow before walking away.

Before he left for Tokyo though, both your families had a little get-together at the Miya residence.

To say it was awkward was an understatement, especially because of the rift between you and one particular twin, and because the family didn't exactly know about the situation - but you managed by helping around whilst the twins (plus Kaoru) played some games.

“Don’t you want to join them?” the Miya matriarch asked you kindly.

Over at the living room, the boys were loudly cheering, eyes glued to their game, Kaoru nestled between the twins.

You shook your head, focusing on chopping the vegetables. “I’m fine.” Cooking helped calmed you, busying your hands and sense of smell and taste helped calmed your nerves. Meticulously following through recipes in your head, focusing only on making delectable dishes for all.

As much as you can, you didn't want the family to notice something between you and Atsumu, didn't want to ruin the already bright atmosphere because of his success, didn't want to ruin his day, didn't want to ruin his reputation because of you.

Dinner was a quiet affair between the families, congratulating Atsumu over and over for qualifying for the All-Japan Youth Camp. Osamu heartily ate, sitting next to you, Atsumu to his other side. With his twin as the star of the feast, you saw him brimming with pride and a bit of shyness - especially in the presence of family. It made you smile, but only for a quick while.

So you ate quietly, keeping your head low.

It was already worth knowing how quiet you were unless asked a question. Nobody seemed to mind, used to your quiet presence.

"Kaoru, eat properly," you berate, reaching over, napkin in hand to wipe your brother's face.

It's also known that you were such a caring person - sister, most especially.

"You're almost an adolescent now and still you eat like a child." There was rice on his shirt on his table, how embarrassing. How is he 12?

"Nee-san, please!" At that, the adults laugh, seemingly used to it all. Even Atsumu laughed in. "I'm not a baby!"

"You'll always be a baby to us, brother boy." Atsumu teased your little brother, booping his nose with his finger.

Groaning, Kaoru angrily puts down his bowl and chopsticks, swatting you and Atsumu's hands away. The adults laugh again, especially at the combined forces of you and Atsumu.

The blond-dyed teen meets your eye, time freezing for a moment, you kept thinking of them as brown when they were actually honey brown. It was hard to look away from them, especially with how he took you in. Something kickstarted in your chest.

Clearing your throat, you quickly sit back, he does the same. Osamu fills his plate and yours too.

Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you take out your phone, eyes widening at a notification.

"Ah, Mi-" unsure how to address him, especially because the adults and Kaoru were there, you cleared your throat again, capturing everyone's attention, including Atsumu's. "Mika-nee sends her congratulations."

Like magic, his whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. Misery, it was it feels like, followed by a thousand arrows shot through your already fragile heart.

"She furthers that, 'she knew you could do it. Have fun in Tokyo,' it was a miracle how firm you kept your tone, in its usual monotonous tone. "And 'hello to everyone, I miss you all.'"

The adults then turn to tease Atsumu, Osamu reminding his twin that your sister was still with her boyfriend, resulting in them fighting. Bemused by their usual antics, the adults ask you questions about your sister's well-being, you answered as best you could before they began to talk amongst themselves about traveling, allowing you to wallow on the pain.

Yep, that was the Mika effect.

She could light up a room by just the mention of her name, amplifying the happiness of someone's achievement.

And who were you? Just a bystander. A ghost, even. Your words meant absolutely nothing, especially for Atsumu.

But - you peeked up, seeing him steal from Osamu's plate - at least it made him happy, right?

As much as it pained you, that smile on his face was everything.

"Nee-san, can you pass me some meat please?" Kaoru asks you politely, rice sticking to his cheeks.

Swallowing the pain, you robotically reach out and placed an ample amount into his waiting plate, grateful for the distraction.

Again, this was about Atsumu. Not about you.

Reaching over, you were just about to clean his face when he does it himself. "I can do it myself, nee-san." your little brother's grin was a mess, yet you couldn't find it in your heart to get mad, especially at the proud look on his still messy face.

With Atsumu gone for a whole week, and nationals coming up soon, practice as of late has been hectic and hard. Also, because the team was short of one Miya, it went quietly and peacefully – a strange and rather unnatural occurrence. That excuse any kind of indolence though, especially with nationals drawing near.

"Put your backs into it!" barked Coach Kurosu.

Somehow, because nationals were coming, practice went on slower than usual. And that was saying, you were still in the middle of winter.

The boys had to work themselves to the bone, beating the chilly winter breeze, pumping the blood in their veins. Each player gave their all, yelling out when both coaches couldn't hear them.

Blowing on your whistle, you called out. "Alright, take a 10-minute break." 

Never have you seen the whole gym deflate, thankfully.

Heck, it was only the first half of practice!

Water bottles were handed and consumed in record time, a few players even fell to the ground, legs raised against the wall.

"I'm gonna die!" 

"You're not going to die," you retort at the first year. "Just don't force yourself." The first year whines once more.

"There's a difference between forcing yourself and giving your all in a game," a cold voice added in, causing the first year to shoot up sitting. "That being said, you needn't need to slack off. Just play like you usually would."

"Y-Yes, Kita-san!"

Huffing you turned to your captain, who blinked back at you. 

"Good work today, captain."

"Practice is far from over, (L/N)." he mused, eyes bright.

Humming, you glance at the stopwatch - eight minutes had just passed. (E/c) eyes then drifted over the gym, over the heads of the club members, a sea of black and white practice uniform. This was a scene you were used to all of your two years as manager, for all of four seasons. 

Somehow, just looking out at it all, something felt missing.

No, not something - someone.

Someone with golden blond-dyed hair, bright honey brown eyes, a sly smirk, and astounding presence.

It was missing one Miya Atsumu.

Glancing back at the stopwatch, a minute had just passed you realized.

Lifting your head again, you were met with the same view. 

Sighing, you pocket the stopwatch and announce the remaining minutes of practice there was left. Frowning at nothing, you felt something tug at your ponytail. Looking over, you were met with a darker version of a person in your head - darker hair, darker eyes, same gentle eyes.

"Osamu, what's up?"

"Can you help me tape up?"

"...that's rare, you don't normally tape up your hands." you say, leading the two of you to where the first aid kid was.

"It's winter," was all he reasoned, almost in a grumble. Almost childishly.

It almost made you snort, that was usually his brother's complaint - as he was more particular with his hands and being a setter in general.

"(Y/N), please." he whined, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yes, yes."

With one Miya short, it meant one was left behind - Osamu.

Even without his twin, he pretty much carried himself just fine. Between the two, he was much more independent. Atsumu was always the clingy twin.

And with his older twin away, that meant, more time with the lad. More time with your best friend.

But as the saying goes, two is better than one.

Two Miyas is better than one.

Still, you made the most out of it, since there was no way you coming in between the brothers.

“You said that chicken noodle soup is your ultimate comfort food, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

Osamu was silent for a moment, watching the steaming white rice in front of both of you. “Mine’s onigiri.”

For some reason, that surprised you. “Really? Not your mom’s-”

“Yeah.”

Hands washed, the two of you dug on to the bowl of rice, carefully shaping it in your hands. “That’s a surprise. You never told me that.”

Although, it did explain how after you moved in and met him, he was asking you to help him make onigiri. Much like now. Except with his chubby hands then, most of his end product ended up badly shaped, too soggy, bland, or lacking.

Years of practice saw to his improvement, with his onigiris being perfectly shaped, flavorful, and rich in texture enough to beat the rice balls at convenient stores. Not to mention that he’s grown a penchant for cooking, after being friends with you.

Rice was a rather versatile grain that has a lot of varieties, depending on how you choose to make use of it. Japanese dishes were mostly simple but made had a lot of intricacies that rivaled gourmet dishes. Onigiri had a lot of variants – white rice, wrapped, seasoned, mixed rice, fillings, to name a few.

But for Osamu, the humble white rice onigiri was his favorite.

It was worth noting that through the years you’ve watched him mold his rice – once, burning his hands because they were too hot or because he was too impatient – he seemed rather determined in the process. He shaped the onigiri as though he were holding something precious, taking careful means, making sure that he had the right amount of seaweed and mayonnaise.

Most of his onigiris were huge, like the size of his hand. Well, he was an athlete and a huge glutton – so those two combinations spoke plenty. However, when he finally finished his first perfect onigiri, something crossed his eyes – it sent a twinge in your heart, seeing so much emotion in those usually guarded eyes of his.

“Osamu?”

The boy just stared at his onigiri for a while, as though in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, he looked as though he were in a daze.

“…have I ever told you why it’s my comfort food?”

There seemed a weight to his words, shown in the way his eyes glazed over a simple homemade rice ball. People have different ways of expressing themselves, some through writing, some through sports, some even through cooking.

Osamu conveyed his feelings through cooking, it seems.

Turning to face him, you wore a gentle smile. “I would very much like to hear it.”

Meeting your gaze, slowly, his lips lift into a smile.

Over a plate of perfectly made onigiris, Osamu tells you a story of his first love.

There was a knock at your door, followed by the doorknob turning. “Nee-san,” came your little brother’s voice, accompanied by crinkling plastic. “here.”

Flipping on to the next page, busily writing into your notebook,  was all he got. You barely looked up from your notes!

Miffed, he tried calling you again, “Nee-san!” he dragged on the first syllable, doing the same with the last syllable with a baby voice. To no avail, much to Kaoru’s disappointment.

Though you were wearing earbuds, normally Kaoru would hear soft, gentle tunes playing off it, so you could still hear him. Only, you were really into your notes, as though your own brother wasn’t in the same room as you.

Puffing his cheeks, he paddled up towards you, poking you in the cheek. “Nee-san,” Much more disappointed and annoyed, he looks at the plastic in his bag, carefully lifts it up until the cold plastic touches your cheek, the touch shocking you instantly.

“Ah, Kaoru,” You gently pushed him away from you, pulling your earbuds off, rubbing at your cold cheek. “what are you doing here?”

“I knocked!” his cheeks were still puffed, the (adorable) frown on his face easing. “Here.” He raises the plastic earlier to you, at an eye level.

Bubble tea.

Blinking, you carefully take it from your brother’s hands. “Who’s it from?”

“Atsumu-nii and Osamu-nii.”

Your brows furrowed at that. “Both of them?”

“Yep! I have one, too!” he showed his own drink, heartily sipping from it, unaware of the questioning look in your face and tone.

You would understand if Osamu bought it, but Atsumu? And Kaoru, as much of a brat he can be at times, hardly lied – at least to your face. And he loved the Miya twins. He was also scared of lying to your face.

“We’re about to eat dinner, though.” You berate, especially at the amount of sugar in his drink. “When did they give it?”

“Just minutes ago! Atsumu-nii handed it over because Osamu-nii had to make dinner.” Ah, so that confirms it then.

Humming, you take the drink in your hand. “Thanks, Kaoru.”

The little boy toothily grins. “You’re welcome, nee-san!” rushing to the door, he turns to tell you, “I’ll come back when dinner’s ready!”

“Yeah, thanks.”

With a click, you were alone in your room once more. Music softly played from your earbuds, homework sitting idly.

Surprisingly, the drink was still cold. Just how long ago did they buy this?

Atsumu and Osamu bought this, you remind yourself, twisting the drink in your hand, fiddling with the straw with your other hand. Straightening your drink, you punctured your straw in.

Taking a sip, you let the flavors settle in your tongue before swallowing. “…not too sweet, just salty enough.” Just the way you like it.

Twirling the drink in your hand, it just occurred to you that today was Atsumu's return from Tokyo.

masterlist • seven

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #189

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the royal hikkikoneet of Himeji Castle, Osakabehime! This giant nerd is a Lore Bard, because it’s hard to stay in your room all day and not read things, as well as a Trickery Domain Cleric to fill your castle to the brim with ghostly defenses (and run away to your kotatsu when things get scary).

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Prepare for trouble, and make it double!

Race and Background

Going by Fate’s official lore, Osakabehime is a kitsune like Tamamo. But, since Tamamo’s pretty insistent on No Doubles, O-heems here had to change her race, and so do we. So we’re making her a Hexblood to get some castle magic right off the bat. This makes Batty Fey and Humanoid, and she gets +1 Wisdom and +2 Charisma. She keeps the standard Medium size, but she still gets Darkvision, Fey Resilience against the charmed condition, Hex Magic which lets her cast Disguise Self and Hex using her Charisma. You can cast one of these spells for free each day, or by using spell slots.

She can also make Magic Tokens out of her hair (and other things, but those are gross), letting her send a message to the creature holding it. Also, while she’s within 10 miles of the token, she can enter a trance to see and hear through the token for 1 minute, after which the token is destroyed. She can make a token once per long rest, and they only last until her next long rest anyway, so don’t get excited about stockpiling them like I just did before reading that part.

Castle Guardian Spirit isn’t an official D&D background, but fortunately Mangaka is! Or at least, Guild Artisan has the same sort of ring to it. This gives Batty proficiency in Insight and Persuasion.

Ability Scores

Batty’s Wisdom should be her highest stat. Making good art requires good eyes to figure out how to improve your technique. Second best is her Charisma. She’s got that awkward underdog style going for her, despite how much she overthinks things. Her Dexterity is also pretty high. She might not move around much, but she’s an expert at hiding from responsibilities! Batty’s Intelligence is above average, it’s hard to spend that much time on the internet and not learn something. Her Constitution isn’t great, I blame staying inside all day, but we’re dumping Strength for pretty much the same reason. There’s nothing saying a NEET can’t be a gym rat, but that’s def not Batty.

Class Levels

Bard 1: Starting off as a bard gives Batty all sorts of proficiencies, like Dexterity and Charisma saves, Sleight of Hand and Performance to master her brushstrokes, History for living for so long, and Stealth to slip away from crowds. If she does end up next to people though, she can use her Bardic Inspiration to give them a d6 for one of their checks, saves, or attack rolls Charisma Bonus times per long rest. Batty can also use her Charisma to cast Spells! Minor Illusion and Silent Image will create the first soldiers in her origami army (they can’t touch people, but they can be distracting!). She also gets Feather Fall for some bat parachuting, Blade Ward to hide from physical attacks in her kotatsu dimension, Charm Person to avoid fights altogether, and Distort Value to make even a neck guard look like a proof of courage.

Cleric 1: Bouncing over to cleric real quick will give us all sorts of goodies. Since Batty is a Trickery cleric, she gets a Blessing of the Trickster, giving another creature advantage on stealth checks for an hour. Don’t you know heavy armor is uruso noisy? Keep it quiet! She also learns another set of spells (since we’re multiclassing you’ll have to use the special table to figure out how many slots you have now.) that use her Wisdom to cast and prepare them. She gets Charm Person and Disguise Self for free, which... she already had from level one... But, she also gets cantrips! Guidance and Resistance will make you a little more knowledgeable than everyone else about everything, and Thaumaturgy will help you get your spooky castle ghost thing going. You can also prepare spells like Bane to dull the senses of intruders, and Purify Food and Drink and Sanctuary to protect yourself and guests.

Bard 2: Second level bards are even better at everything since they’re Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to all skill checks. They also learn a Song of Rest, so anyone brave enough to spend a short rest in Himeji Castle will heal an extra d6 when they use hit dice. Your Magical Inspiration makes your bardic inspiration dice even better, letting your allies add the d6 to the damage or healing of a spell! Batty can also cast Speak with Animals now! Turns out she has an army of like 800 animal spirits helping out, which certainly explains all the origami.

Bard 3: As a Lore bard, Batty gets even more proficiencies, making her really good with Deception, Arcana, and Religion. I mean, she is kind of a god already. She can also turn her bardic inspiration into Cutting Words, reducing a creature’s check, attack roll, or damage by that amount instead of adding to it. She means well, but her cringey moments can get pretty uramessy. She also get Expertise in Performance and Stealth, doubling her jozu modifier. She can also cast Animal Messenger to make her first origami animal that can actually help you, delivering a message to a creature you specify in a location you’ve been before.

Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for more inspiration and confidence, meaning more helpful hints and more cringey cutting words per long rest. This also makes your spells better! Speaking of, you get Prestidigitation to make real origami at will, and Phantasmal Force to make an origami horse that can really trample people. Well, kind of. It’s still an illusion, but the damage is real.

Bard 5: Fifth level bards get stronger Bardic Inspiration, their dice turning into d8s. They also become a Font of Inspiration, thanks to their inspiration dice refilling on short rests instead of long ones. You can also use third level spells now, like using a Glyph of Warding to hide Phantasmal Forces all around your castle. You can use these glyphs to create Explosive Runes for straight damage, or Spell Glyphs to store spells of the level you cast the glyph at or lower, which will target whatever activated the glyph in the first place. It takes an hour and 200 gold to cast, but it also lets you ignore concentration, so... actually this would be a great way to summon creatures. Just stick a glyph in a book, throw it at a creature’s head, boom, summons without concentration. You’re welcome.

Bard 6: Sixth level bards can waste their turn using Countercharm to give allies advantage on saves against being frightened or charmed. You already get half of that for free, so why bother. More importantly, you get Additional Magical Secrets, giving you two spells from any class. For your normal spell, grab Nondetection to prevent yourself from getting found through magic, then use magical secrets to pick up Leomund’s Tiny Hut to hide in a proper kotatsu of protection, and Conjure Animals for some slightly fleshier origami animals. We’ll get the real deal later, but this works just as well, yo-i.

Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Hallucinatory Terrain. Changing up the whole castle grounds is a good way to get people lost, and if they’re lost they’re less likely to find you.

Bard 8: Max out your Charisma with this ASI for better spells and more cringe. You can also use Greater Invisibility to keep yourself hidden, even while making more origami.

Bard 9: Your last level of bard makes your Song of Rest a d8 too, but more importantly, you also get fifth level spells, meaning you can finally cast Animate Objects to make real origami animals of variable sizes. You can create up to 10 animals this way, with medium pieces of paper counting as two, large pieces as four, and huge objects as eight. You can also upcast this spell for more objects at once. Rise, my mighty karmy!

Cleric 2: Now that we have your origarmy ready to go, we can finally dip back into cleric! Second level clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest, either Turning Undead with a wisdom save, or Invoking Duplicity to create an illusory copy of yourself for a minute. The illusion has to stay within 120 feet of you, but you can cast spells as though you were standing in its space. Perfect for when you have to fight but you want to stay in your tiny hut at the same time.

Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells, like Mirror Image and Pass without Trace. Finally, you can make yourself sneaky! You also get access to a bunch of other spells that will make yourself more protected- Aid increases your and up to two other creature’s max HP for 8 hours, Protection from Poison protects you... from poison, and Zone of Truth makes sure nobody can hide their plans from you.

Cleric 4: With your bard stuff taken care of, you can use this ASI to bump up your Wisdom for stronger cleric spells. You also learn Mending. Your army is made of paper, they’re going to get torn eventually.

Cleric 5: Fifth level clerics can Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower when they’re turned, and they also get third level spells, like Blink and Dispel Magic. Bringing your own magic into someone’s house is shitsurei manners, don’t you think? You can also Bestow Curses on particularly rude guests, Meld into Stone to hide away without a trace, and create Spirit Guardians to protect yourself from melee attacks.

Cleric 6: As a sixth level cleric, you can Channel Divinity twice per rest, and you can use it to put on a Cloak of Shadows, becoming invisible until the end of next turn, or until you attack or cast a spell.

Cleric 7: Seventh level clerics get fourth level spells, like Dimension Door to pop straight into your kotatsu from 500 feet away. You can also cast Polymorph to reclaim your foxy glory! Or turn into a T Rex, if you want to powergame. Your choice. You also get access to Guardians of Faith, which are like Spirit Guardians, but they don’t stick near you- perfect for when you want to avoid being in a fight entirely. You can also use an Aura of Life and/or Aura of Purity to make your hikkolife a bit easier. The former gives nearby allies resistance to necrotic damage, immunity to max HP reduction, and autoheals creatures when they start their turn with 0 hit points. Hey, another spell that would be really good to keep around in a glyph of warding! The latter prevents disease, gives creatures in it resistance against poison damage, and has advantage on saves against being blinded, charmed, deafened, frightened, paralyzed, poisoned, and stunned.

Cleric 8: Use your last ASI to max out your Wisdom for the best cleric spells possible. Your Destroy Undead grows to affect creatures of CR 1 or lower, and you also get a Divine Strike, causing all your weapon attacks to deal an extra 1d8 poison damage. I mean... no reason to turn down a free gift, right?

Cleric 9: Ninth level clerics get fifth level spells, like Dominate Person and Modify Memory to sculpt the minds of those foolish enough to enter your castle without permission. You can also use Insect Plague to create a massive swarm of tiny origami bats, dealing piercing damage to creatures stuck in them. Alternatively, use Hallow to make your castle a more liminal space, adding a bunch of effects against celestials, elementals, fey (probably should just not include that one.), fiends, and undead, preventing them from entering the area and messing with their magic and mental effects. There’s also a ton of other effects you can add, just take a look at the spell, we’re not writing them all out here.

Cleric 10: Tenth level clerics get Divine Intervention, letting you pray to your god for a roya-l get out of jail free card once a day, with a week’s break after it actually works. You have a roughly 1 in 10 chance of it working each time you use it, based on your cleric level. If it works, you can get whatever your DM thinks is appropriate- maybe a couple robots show up to help out your plan to be lazy forever? Nah, that’d be silly. You can also cast Sacred Flame this level. I was running out of good cantrips to give you, and kitsune are known for will of wisps and the like, so it’s sort of on theme.

Cleric 11: Your capstone level makes Destroy Undead affect creatures of CR 2 or lower, and you get sixth level spells! Forbiddance locks magical travel out of an area for up to a day- if you cast the spell every day for a month, it’ll last until dispelled. You can also force extraplanar creatures to take a bunch of damage every turn they’re in the area without a save, so Tamamo will finally leave you alone. You can use Word of Recall to teleport back to your kotatsu from anywhere, no restrictions. (Technically you have to pick a spot that is involved with your god, but aside from that.) Or, you can use a Heroes’ Feast to make the rest of your party stronger so you won’t feel as bad when you leave the fighting to them. This cures creatures of all disease and poison, makes them immune to poison and being frightened, gives them advantage on wisdom saves, and increases their max HP, all for 24 hours.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Glyph of Warding lets you set up tons of traps and store spells away for later, all without using concentration. That is huge for a build whose main source of damage comes from summon spells. Not only does it let you cast more of them, it also means the ones you have up won’t disappear because you get hit.

Speaking of, it’s really easy for you to avoid combat entirely. Go invisible, hide in a tiny hut and let your duplicity do the fighting for you, throw gobs of paper at enemies then run the other way, whatever they do doesn’t matter because you won’t be around to get hit anyway!

If an enemy does try to chase you down, they’ll have to pass through your massive army of summons first-with an upcasted Animate Objects, that means they’ll be taking 18 attacks of opportunity before they even walk through them all, and that’s before factoring nonsense from your glyphs.

Cons:

You are terrible at fighting directly. You have very few spells that deal damage directly, you have barely over 100 HP, and your AC is 11 if you’re playing to character. Once somebody does make it past your paper, you’d better have a word of recall ready.

Multiclassing really hurts spellcasters. It means you don’t get 7th level or higher spells, you have to spend all your ASIs on casting modifiers to make them both good, and you don’t get the guaranteed intervention from only being a cleric.

You have a big army, but they’re still made of paper. If you go the tiny bat route, all your summons will only have 20 hp, which means one fireball will tear through all of them in a single blow.

[fuwahiko]

...imagine a Non-Despair or Pre-Despair Kuzuhina scenario where Hajime gets into a huge fight with his parents (most likely about Hope's Peak in some way) and after a few days to a week of shutting out his friends and boyfriend in class 77, he finally goes to them for comfort and just breaks down from stress and bottled up emotions.

(No I'm not projecting onto Hajime what are you talking about thats cRAZY-)

Hurt/Comfort is my specialty what can i say.

uh oh time for hajime to suffer again

so.

hajime's parents are those like, really shitty parents that see their kids as someone to live vicariously through rather than valuing them as people. they hold him to high standards that get more ridiculous as he gets older.

his and his parents' goals happened to align well when it came to hope's peak; hajime always admired the school and his parents insisted he go to a good school so that he could get the best education he possibly could - because they wouldn't be satisfied with any less than that.

they were content for a while and happy to pay hajime's tuition fees, but his parents' contentment was only ever temporary. one day they called hajime to the living room for a 'talk'. they'd decided they weren't happy enough with hajime just keeping up with the rest of the class, oh no, he had to be the top of the class. hajime kept up with school work just fine and did pretty well of the tests too, about average in his class, nothing to brag about but certainly nothing to be ashamed of or anything - but for his parents average wasn't going to cut it anymore.

so they told hajime he would have to be in the top five highest scorers on his upcoming test or they would stop paying his tuition fees.

of course, this was incredibly upsetting to hajime; he'd always dreamed of going to hope's peak, and now he finally was, and on top of that he had made some amazing friends there and had even met fuyuhiko. the thought of not being able to see them anymore, or at least seeing them way less than he saw them now, was honestly terrifying to him.

and not to mention, what his parents were threatening didn't even make any sense; what good would it do to stop him from going to hope's peak anyway? wouldn't that just go against what they wanted?

he argued with them further and they said if that did happen they would think of something else to have hajime do, suggesting the idea of sending him to some strict teacher that would teach him one on one - someone that would be ruthless and do whatever it takes to make hajime "get his act together", as they put it. that thought was also terrifying.

hajime was already trying hard as it was though. he'd managed to form a healthier relationship with studying at last and he was doing better in the subjects he struggled with most. he was really proud of how far he'd come and how much he'd grown since coming to hope's peak... but whatever he did or whatever he said his parents would never see it the same way.

very quickly his studying grew more intense now, he was studying for much longer and he had less time for the things he enjoyed - less time to relax. but what choice did he have? there was no changing his parents' minds, so all he could do was push and push to get a high score, even if it completely burned him out.

that's how hajime spent his days for a while. he didn't have time to hang out with anyone because he needed to focus on studying. usually he talked with fuyuhiko and the others a lot; they'd text each other often and usually met up at lunch and after school ended, but hajime didn't want to be distracted, and if he had spare time he could be studying. it seemed to be working for maybe a couple of days, but hajime knew deep down he was only going to get burned out... but he pretended like he wouldn't - he told himself he'd make it work somehow.

he couldn't make it work.

so, inevitably, hajime felt that familiar feeling of anxiety and stress building up and consuming him; he was exhausted and his mind was fuzzy - the words on pages in front of him blurring together and making no sense anymore, his eyes just drifting across them without picking up any meaningful information from them. he was tired and drained but his body was buzzing with panic and urgency.

he didn't know what to do, and when hajime didn't know what to do he went to his friends.

it was the late evening now and class had finished hours ago, but he left a message in his group chat with class 77 saying he needed someone to talk to and that he'd be waiting at a park just by the school - somewhere they often hung out.

hajime sat on a bench at the park. the cool fresh air outside usually helped to calm his nerves but was having no effect on him today.

it wasn't long before he heard footsteps approaching him at a fast pace. hajime lifted his head and saw fuyuhiko, ibuki, sonia, nagito, sagishi and mahiru all rushing to him, with chiaki a little ways behind but trying her best to keep up.

they all seemed really worried, even more so because hajime had been so quiet recently. it turned out they had all been wondering what was up with him and discussing how to deal with the situation; they'd decided to give hajime space for a start in case he needed it, but they'd agreed to drop whatever they were doing if he needed them there. they didn't want to overwhelm him though, so only some of them went to meet with him, just in case the whole class would be a bit too much.

this was so much more than hajime had expected though, he never would've guessed half the class would come to him on such short notice like this. they must've been really worried.

mahiru, prepared and sensible as always, pulled a large blanket out of her bag and set it down on the ground opposite the bench as hajime watched with a confused but curious expression. then, one by one, hajime's friends sat down on the blanket, fuyuhiko and sagishi sitting on either side of hajime on the bench, with fuyuhiko gently holding hajime's hand.

fuyuhiko asked hajime to take a deep breath and then asked if he could tell them what was wrong, and hajime began explaining from the beginning the best he could. the more he talked though, the more he got worked up, and as he talked about how scared he was to have to leave all of them he found himself stumbling over his words and breathing rapidly, tears building up and then quickly running down his face, his body shaking.

"hey, hey, hajime. it's okay." fuyuhiko comforted him, running his hand up and down hajime's back to calm him. "there's no way we'd ever let that happen. if they want to stop you going to hope's peak they're gonna have to get through us first."

hajime was calming down a little just from hearing that, but by this point his tears wouldn't stop; it was like all the stress and the pain and the worry was being flushed out all in one go, and all he could do was continue sobbing until it was all out. fuyuhiko slowly pulled him in closer and hajime wrapped his arms around him, crying onto his shoulder. fuyuhiko could feel hajime shaking as he held him back, but after a couple minutes he was becoming more and more still.

"if it comes down to it..." sonia spoke up as hajime relaxed and separated from fuyuhiko a little, returning to holding his hand as he shed his final tears - "...if they will not pay for your tuition then those of us who have the means certainly will. we shall do our upmost to ensure you will be able to continue studying here, as you have every right to do so. isn't that right, fuyuhiko?"

fuyuhiko gave hajime a reassuring smile. "of course. I reckon with a yakuza and a princess and with nagito's lottery money you'd have enough to pay for a hundred hajimes to go to hope's peak" he laughed.

"ibuki will hold a concert! a big concert, better than any concert the world has ever seen! all the money from the tickets sold can go to helping hajime!" ibuki grinned as she leaned forward and used both her hands to hold onto hajime's free hand, shaking it up and down a few times before settling down again. "really." she spoke much more softly now, almost sounding like a different person entirely, "we won't let them stop you from being where you're meant to be." ibuki let go of hajime's hand and sat down again.

nagito was the next to speak: "and if they take you away and force you to study with a private tutor or anything else you don't want, then we'll find where you are and steal you away again." "we'll do it over and over if we have to." mahiru added. "that's right! you know how stubborn we all are, there's no way we'd allow that to happen, not without a fight!" sonia chimed in, one fist in the air and a determined look spread across her face. "what can they do to stop us, anyway? they're just two people. they're older than us, sure, but together we're capable of so much more, as long as we work as a team." sagishi said as they placed a hand on hajime's shoulder for a moment.

hajime had some really amazing friends.

"are you feeling better now?" chiaki asked in a soft voice.

hajime relaxed his shoulders and sat up. "yeah. I'm feeling a lot better now. I... I really appreciate you guys being there for me like this. I didn't expect you all to rush over, and you've all been so... so sweet. I don't know what I did to deserve friends like you."

"dumbass. we're your friends because you're the same. we know you'd do the same for us if we were in trouble, don't sell yourself short." fuyuhiko furrowed his brows and poked hajime's cheek. hajime smiled at him and fuyuhiko smiled back before turning to face the others again.

after another few minutes everyone began heading back - fuyuhiko walking hajime home and insisting on holding his hand the whole way.

hajime didn't want to burden his friends, but knowing they'd be there for him if anything did go wrong made him feel incredibly relieved. he could tell that even if he told them not to help out, they still would. maybe that meant he wasn't such a burden after all.

knowing they cared so much for him, knowing that they valued him as a friend as much as he valued them, made hajime feel invincible.

he'd probably never be good enough for his parents, but to his friends he was someone who couldn't be replaced.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;” 

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous. 

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege. 

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away. 

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered. 

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk. 

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated. 

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked. 

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open. 

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was. 

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes. 

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair. 

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life. 

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him. 

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them. 

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac 

Time of Death: 6:05PM