#but by the time i remembered i think i had already activated the festival proper

[sadlazzle]

ooh looks like we’re fighting radahn next. wish me luck cause i forgot to equip my new gravity sorcery

[littlemissidontcare]

Please. Margo comes from money and spent more time on vacation than she did working when she dated Seb. Just because she’s an immigrant doesn’t mean she is poor and has a work ethic. People forget she did CA multiple times. Posted herself wearing Native America headdress in IG and laughed at people who called her out for it /// Well, first of all, it was a pic of her in a headdress, which is bad, but it was literally just her wearing it, no party, no full face paint, no offensive captions full of slurs. It’s still CA and still bad but just never on the level of Alejandra. I legit don’t remember her laughing at people or even people calling her out for it. They did however called her out for wearing a fur hat, which she was adamant to keep. And what you say did CA multiple times? When was that? Native headdress is one. That’s it. Her work ethic... yep, she wasn’t anywhere near the level of the workaholic Seb, despite that however she worked a lot. First of all, during her rs with Seb (in a span of 2 years), she did multiple acting workshops, which your precious AW is so above, she filmed 2 tv shows, at least 4 movies 2 of which ended up at Sundance. Already more than AW did in the last 2 years. She filmed 2 shorts for which she got some awards as the best actress and filmed a music video for a suicide awareness. Did AW ever do that? Did AW ever get any awards for her acting? Genuinely asking btw. Anyway, Margo ended up getting her role in The Deuce while still with Seb and he helped her film her audition tape after which she immediately cut their trip to London short to go back to in person audition. Just a few months after their breakup, she did an off broadway performance, ended up getting another longer off broadway play, filmed another movie, got some festival notices, got a part in a charity HBO monologue project, got her own TV show on Netflix in which she was THE LEAD in and the shoot was almost 6 months long, got another co-lead in a mini-series, filmed that, had 2 photoshoots, had multiple auditions, went back to London and did the promo for the mini series and now got 2 roles in 2 big franchises, one of which she’s currently filming in England. That to me sounds like WAY more than what AW did in the past year or 5. Margo’s vacations weren’t even so slumped together the way it always is with Alejandra who works for 3 days and then immediately goes to spa and vacations. I can recall just 2 proper vacations she’s had while in a rs with Seb (Mexico and Italy for his bday) all of which happened in 2014 and 2015. She started going on vacations more after their break up. I remember the issue with her being not working as much as he was, not even going some place. She was also actively involved in the charity in which SHE did something rather than asking people to do something. She read to the elderly every other month and visited children charities and actually spent time with them teaching them acting and dancing stuff. When was the last time AW did something like that? Oh yeah, she was at the donation location of Pine’s supported charity in 2020. Good for her. I’d ask whether she’d be there without him but I think we all know the answer.

👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[taeyamayang]

FIRST OFF im terribly sorry for replying late to this, i had a lot going on (personally, some stuff i cant say here) so ive been out of tumblr or social media in general but hey! when i saw this i got really excited! i'd love to know how you're doing (even if im late to it

WILLOOOOOOOW omg she's gotten so big?? i have pretty small body frame so i feel like meeting willow and her jumping to me will make me fall to my back (but ngl i love it when dogs hugs me in a rough way lol they're just so cute and cuddly!). can i just say that willow looks like a prim and proper young lady ready to be served in a five star fine dining? lol she is sooo cute LOOK AT HER PAWS! it's curved like those of cats

I remember hyperfixating on boku no hero too! i almost became a writer for MHA but there just too many characters and i didnt know where to start and what you said is actually true! it's hard to look for content of characters you like esp on tumblr since this app has few users in comparison to twitter (or X) or other apps. i liked stain before too! lol but i've always been a loyal to todoroki, hawks, and amajiki.

OHMYGOD YOUR SELF THO YOUR SELF!! that is some serious goals there. please, i want to collect stuff too but you know, adulting just sucks sometimes (nah im actually just very thrifty lololol) but your collection is amazing! ive been thinking of getting figurines too but you know once you start getting ONE character, you couldn't get enough. it becomes an addiction.

YOU HAVE THE TRIO AS FIGURINES HOLY SHIT IM JEALOUS THAT IS SO GOOD AND ANDDD TSUYUUUU YOU HAVE TSYUUU SHES MY ABSOLUTE FAVE IN MHA like among the girls she's my top 1. you also have haikyuu merch omg pls im trying to stop myself from purchasing a kenma lamp (been trying to tell myself that i NEED it for sanity's sake) AND OMG YOU ALSO HAVE THE MANGAS NOOOOOOOOOO IVE BEEN THINKING OF GETTING MANGAS TOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOO god this is tempting me. i wanted to get haikyuu, jjk, chainsaw man, and tokyo rev mangas but i dont know yet which volume to get bc obvsly i cant get vol. 1 to the most recent bc my bookshelf is already full. i mean, i already have books in it so i can't fit everythinggg but once i get them ill send you a picture too!

and about your oc have you written a piece with her in it? i might have missed it since it took me a WHOLE MONTH to reply to this. if you have please send it to me! i want to read it!! her quirk being freaky blood/guts/gore kind of thing is interesting and i like the art you commissioned for her! THE RED HAIR AND PIERCING ROCKS HOLY CRAP.

jjk is...idk what to say man it's just very draining for me to read (i usually read mangas of animes i really liked) i had to stop reading it every now and then bc it's reallyyyy draining like it reminds me of attack on titan or something.

I dont know what mortal kombat is but i should check it out since ive been into games recently. oh, and about games. im thinking of streaming my games on yt or twitch! i have a few up already on yt and tiktok but im not consistent to it yet (since like i said early i had a lot going on in my personal life) but ill probably srsly start it by the end of the year. ill check other games too, so i think ill get a good look on mortal kombat!

NIRVANAA omg i remember liking them or a short time in high school. i remember having a nirvana shirt lol and i wore them during school festival. i like their music so much! it resonated to me esp high school years. unfortunately, i dont listen to them that much these days. i actually feel like an old aunty who doesn't know pop culture cos im not /that/ active when it comes to listening to artists. maybe i should start browsing albums and song. i'll start with the ones you like and ill tell you my feedback!

that idea is great! go ahead and write about psychology! you may inspire people or help them through your writing. it always feels nice to know that you're wrtiting for a cause. you should go ahead and try that! ill always support you of course <3

about my life, well, while i was out out of tumblr i started writing a journal but it's not the ordinary journal where you go "dear diary" or smth like that lol it's like a poetic journal where i write my feelings into metaphor so it's sort like a memoir but it's also my journal. that has been helping me a lot through tough times, so thanks to writing AGAIN and as always for giving me a room to breathe. also, i had an interesting interaction with a childhood enemy we had like a situationship going on like a month ago but LMAOOOO MEN ARE MEN IG i chose not to talk to him anymore lmao it's a long story for next time maybe. and something exciting probablyyyy... i had my first job 2 weeks ago! im lucky to land a nice job so currently im quite busy with trainings and all that but im enjoying it so far!

christmas is coming. do you have any plans? i always loved christmas even as a kid so im excited for holiday season. im looking forward to spending time with friends and family (relatives and all that) plus good food! how are you spending christmas? do you celebrate it?

it was nice to hear from you kale! and i really reallyyyy missed you. i enjoyed reading your life update and to know that you're well in every aspect. i hope to hear more from you!! and i sincerely wish you genuine happiness. keep thriving queeen!! YOU GOT THIS!!

I SAW U ON MY NOTIFS OMG ITS BEEN SO LONG HOW ARE YOU??

I don’t know why I just saw this omg!! I’ve been good :) I’ve been working a lot and busy with classes and just everything else life has to offer 😂

Willow is almost 2 years old now!! and she’s gotten so big and she’s been much more well behaved too!!

I’ve been on and off Tumblr and usually just go on to read some stuff on my favorite fandoms which surprisingly there isn’t a lot of the things im looking for!! I’ve really taking a liking to My Hero Academia but specifically 3 characters- Best Jeanist, Edgeshot, and Stain which there is like NO new content on them!! I haven’t finished the anime yet since im more of a manga reader than an anime watcher 😔

but more on Best Jeanist- I have become addicted to his character 😭 I’ve rebranded some of my usernames to him and I have a collection of merchandise of him on my shelf!! It started as a joke but it’s not a joke anymore!! same with Stain and Edgeshot, but most of my money has gone to Best Jeanist. I’m so sad there’s not much content on him, I say I’ll just write my own but that isn’t true- LOL but that’s ok, I can just use my free time to think of silly little scenarios of him in my head!!

Here’s a picture of my current anime collection, it’s slightly outdated but you get the idea:

Not pictured is a couple One Piece things since I’ve really started to like One Piece again and a couple plushies including a plushie of Shinsuke Kita from Haikyuu because he will always be my favorite (and Tsukishima too!! remember when my user was kaleshima!!)

I’ve always been taking a liking to making an OC and just my oc overall!! She’s mainly a MHA oc with a freaky blood/guts/gore manipulation power (it’s kind dark but I think it’s cool) and omg she’s taken up so much of my time and brain space, I feel like I’ve done more in depth creation of her than of myself 😂 I’ve also been buying a lot of art commissions of her!! I’ll attach a few images below, but I like talking about her so much that if I end up coming back here I might do some writing for her since I’d love someone or some place to talk about her :) all credits to the locket artists, I don’t think any of them have Tumblr though-: (the first image is her with Best Jeanist and the last is her with Stain!!)

I also have gotten into JJK but im still new to it, only watching the first couple episodes and reading the leaks 😭 which is a GREAT way to start omg

Also, don’t you love it when old hyper fixations come back??!??! yeah, that’s me right now with Mortal Kombat!! I’ve been a fan for almost 10 years now and the new game is so good!! and the characters omg… they made them so good 😍 thankfully Tumblr has a lot on them!!

but other than some things coming and going there hasn’t been a lot of new stuff in my life but compared to last year my mood and health has been so much better which is a win in my eyes, plus im starting to like a new guy which is good because I got my heart absolutely shattered little over a year ago and I swear I thought I was never going to recover, but recovery is possible and I give myself a lot of credit for the things I’ve done despite life seemingly staying the same.

I hope to move out of my parents house soon and continue my education further and my social life and all that but ik that won’t happen until a few years which seems like forever but seeing how 2023 has gone by so fast, I have a feeling it’s going to come quicker than it seems

I always say I want to come back to writing on this app and honestly I am in need of a new hobby because yeah listening to music is great but it doesn’t get you far!! which by the way, also a hyper fixation, bands and music and all that- I am really big into Nirvana right now and plan on dressing up as the lead singer Kurt Cobain for Halloween- which is funny I am dressing up because for the first time I have no plans for Halloween!! I’ll probably just bake some goodies and watch scary movies. How is Halloween celebrated where you are, if at all? American culture is so funny- and it’s funny because America doesn’t have much culture, it’s just one big melting pot which makes it unique

Speaking of music, my favorite artists are probably Nirvana (which is a band) and so is Radiohead, Weezer, The Smiths, Ghost, and Korn (which are rock/metal bands, I really recommend them if you’re into that!!) but I also really like Melanie Martinez, Lana Del Rey, Mitski, Alex G, and a couple other solo artists (fun fact, I went to many concerts over the summer including Melanie and Weezer- they were so good!!) what kind of music do you listen to? any you recommend?!

Half way typing this too, I thought of the idea of coming back to Tumblr to write not just drabbles on my current hyper fixations but maybe some life advice and psychology stuff, I have a way with words and advice and all that even though I am considered “to young to know all this” but I see it as both good and bad having an old soul at a young age- and not to say I am a little child either, but I haven’t even been on this earth for 20 years yet, soon enough though

That all being said, I feel like a huge chapter of my life is coming to a wrap up soon and I am excited to start the new one!! I’ve been on this app forever even though I technically shouldn’t have had Tumblr as a pre-teen but hey, we all start somewhere!!

How have you been? Anything new and exciting? Or maybe something you’ve learned? I’ve been trying to learn new hobbies and I’ve started to really dig into what I want to do as a career since I have to really decided soon (I am doing community college right now which is a free 2-3 year schooling opportunity to earn credits before you go off and study a minor or major- not sure if you have that where you live and if you do it’s still probably different)

Anyways I want to study business and business management since I have taken a liking to running/leading an organization/group and coming up with marketing ideas for various groups I spend my time in- including theatre!! I have a local theatre group I work in backstage and I am the stage manager this year which is great since I want to going into management

It’s “late” where I am- actually it’s just 9:30 but I go to bed early especially when I have things to do the next day 😔 I’ll probably just use the excuse I am tired to run to Starbucks and spend my money like I always do. I really have become addicted to Starbucks and it’s only going to worsen as “Capitalism Christmas” comes next

Holidays are so silly to me too, I don’t really enjoy them because they’ve always seemed to cheesy and not like they “advertise” but I hope to make the best of it this year, even if it just ends up being me working that day and then coming home to my dog. What Holidays do you enjoy? Any certain traditions or events you’re looking forward to?

I’ve written down most of my thoughts and this has been the most I’ve written in ages!! Maybe I should answer more asks from now on to get myself into the writing kick!! 😂

I hope you’ve been well and I hope we can talk more soon!! I totally just remembered we have each other on discord too!! I changed my user to @bestkaleist (Best Jeanist reference) so if you’re confused as to who that is, it’s me!!

wishing you all the well!! 🥬

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Feeding the Weary Traveler

Mitsuri Kanroji x She/Her Reader

A/N: Warnings for this one are homophobia and a mention of physical assault. Let me know if you think I should mention anything else. It’s a relatively light story considering. I usually like to keep the sexuality of the reader undiscussed so it could be anything, but this time around reader doesn’t seem to be interested in men in the slightest. It’s only a couple of lines but just a heads up. Hope you like it! Sorry if there are more errors than usual. My internet is painfully slow and it makes uploading a chore and a half. Word Count: 6,388

Mitsuri hummed happily to herself as she surveyed the various food stalls lighting up the night around her. She wasn’t sure where she should begin, it all looked so good! She was so lucky to have stumbled upon this bustling little village, and during a festival no less! This dinner was going to be legendary! Hopefully there would be an inn nearby where she could rest between missions and take some time to enjoy it all.

Mitsuri decided that the sweet dango stall was calling her name so she made her way over there first and purchased four skewers. She chewed happily as she walked around and tried to decide what to try next. The dango tasted so good she had half a mind to go back and get a couple more.

The Hashira was about to approach a yakitori stall as she finished her last dango when her crow landed none too gracefully in the dirt beside her. She flapped her wings frantically, her little clover shaped crown slightly askew.

Mitsuri whined as she chewed the last bit of dango before swallowing it down. It looked like dinner was over before it really even started. Well, when duty calls...

She cast one last longing glance at the sizzling meats and followed after her crow out of the village’s well lit valley and into the dark mountains above. Lives could be on the line, dinner could wait.

Mitsuri scaled the rugged terrain, hopping from tree to tree. Her crow flapped erratically just ahead, guiding her to whatever demon was wreaking havoc tonight. Her fingers wrapped tightly over the hilt of her blade as the air became heavy with an overwhelming dense dread that could only be brought on by the demon’s bloodlust.

Mitsuri unfurled her blade and kicked off of the next tree branch particularly hard as a scream ripped through the craggy boulders. A few more leaps and bounds.., she did not slow, a scream could mean many things, it wasn’t over yet. They could still be alive!

Her crow cawed in alarm just as Mitsuri’s eyes locked onto a struggle in the brambles below. Almost on instinct, she cracked her whip-like blade over the demon’s grotesque form, causing it to shriek. The Hashira twirled in the air to land in front of the beast and the young woman trapped and writhing  beneath it.

“Get off of her, you miserable fiend!” Mitsuri commanded, readying her blade to lash at the demon again.

The demon wailed again in anger, crushing the dirt beside its hostage’s head before tearing off into the forest in an attempt to get away from the powerful newcomer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mitsuri called after it, cracking her nichirin blade over its retreating form. The blade sliced into the tendons in the back of one of its legs, causing it to tumble to the ground. Before it could skitter off to heal, Mitsuri swung her blade around again. The specially forged metal curled around the demon’s neck and with one clean yank, it’s head came clean off.

The slayer stayed alert, scanning the area for any other nearby threats. An exhausted caw from her crow alerted her that it was safe to let her guard down. She quickly turned on her heel to asses the young woman’s condition, observing her as she shakily got to her knees.

Her kimono was ripped and dirtied. Blood seemed to be seeping through her cloth of her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and frightened while her breath came shallow and quick.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuri spoke gently, slowly moving into the girl’s line of vision. She didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already had been tonight.

“I don’t know,” she said between gasping breaths, “I, I’m alive. That’s something.” She tried to get to her feet, but something twinged in her ankle and she fell back to her knees.

Mitsuri knelt at her side in concern.

The girl would need some medical attention. “My name is Kanroji Mitsuri. What’s your name?”

“(L/n) (Y/n).” She shakily replied.

“Let me help you home, (L/n)-san. Do you live in the village down below?” Mitsuri asked, helping (Y/n) to her feet, carrying most of her weight for her.

“No,” (Y/n) answered quickly, almost as if the insinuation pained her, “no, I don’t. I live here, in the mountains. My cottage isn’t too far from here.”

“I’ll help you get home, (Y/n)-san. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.” Mitsuri assured.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

Mitsuri eyed the young woman sympathetically. The poor dear was still shaken, but managed to direct Mitsuri in the direction of her home while the Hashira carefully held her up, guiding her through the tough terrain.

Mitsuri frowned at the sight of the worn down shack as it came into view, this couldn’t be it, could it?

“There, I live there.” (Y/n) proclaimed, her voice laced with exhaustion. She must have been able to feel the shift in Mitsuri’s mood at the declaration because she then added, “It’s not much, but it’s home. I built it myself even.”

“Do you live here alone?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but ask, slightly horrified.

“I do.” (Y/n) affirmed, missing Mitsuri’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed shock when she stumbled towards the weathered door. “Thank you again, for saving me and bringing me back home.”

“You’re welcome but...” Mitsuri tried to find words but none would come finally she just shook her head and followed (Y/n)’s stumbling form to the door. “Do you have any medical supplies? Let me help patch you up.”

“I have some things. I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be. You needn’t concern yourself. You’ve done so much for me already, Kanroji-san.”

“Your shoulder could get infected without proper care and your ankle looks sprained or even broken. Let me see what I can do. We might need to take you to the village, there’s got to be a doctor down there.”

(Y/n) shook her head furiously, wincing a bit and grasping her head soon after, “I’m not going into town for anything. I’ll invite you to do what you can here, but that’s where I draw the line.”

Mitsuri was concerned by the girl’s reluctance to go to the village, but she took (Y/n)’s offer and entered the small shack. She was surprised by how homey the inside looked once (Y/n) lit a few lanterns. Not only that, but it smelt heavenly inside.

(Y/n) cursed under her breath as she hobbled over to some kind of makeshift oven and carefully peaked inside before sighing in relief and opened it fully. “It didn’t burn! Thank the gods for small favors I guess.”

“What have you got there, (L/n)-san? It smells very good in here.” Mitsuri said, holding a hand over her stomach in an attempt to quiet its rumbling.

“Bread. Please, help yourself. It’s the least I can offer for all of your help tonight.”

“Really? Thank you!” Mitsuri was practically glowing at the invitation before she remembered why she was here in the first place. “Later! First, let’s check you over.”

(Y/n) gestured to another corner of the space to a wobbly, rustic shelf next to a futon so flat it couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep on.  Mitsuri’s heart went out to this girl. She couldn’t be too far off from her in age, this was no way to live, and alone no less.

Mitsuri recovered the tin sitting atop the bottom shelf and motioned the girl to sit on the ground as she noted there were no chairs. She kneeled beside (Y/n)’s injured shoulder. A pained grunt rumbled at the back of the hermit’s throat as she painstakingly loosened and lowered the fabric around her shoulders, baring the bloody claw marks to the Hashira.

“Oh you poor dear...” Mitsuri cooed as she gently probed the torn flesh. At least it wasn’t too deep.

“It’s fine,” (Y/n) shivered and looked away, “could you wrap me up now please. Try to be sparing with the bandages if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mitsuri frowned. She disinfected and wrapped the wound as Shinobu had shown her during her first aid training and managed to only use about a third of the already meager roll. “There,” she gently patted (Y/n)’s shoulder, “that’s all set. Now I just need a look at that ankle. Oh my, it’s swollen pretty bad. We’ll need to elevate it and you should really lay down.”

“I am pretty tired,” (Y/n) sighed wearily, pulling her kimono back up over her shoulders. “Could you help me up?”

“Of course!” Mitsuri eagerly replied, easily scooping (Y/n) up in her arms and standing to her full height.

(Y/n)’s hands scrambled for purchase on Mitsuri’s uniform from the sudden movement. Once she realized Mitsuri’s hold on her was solid and unwavering she relaxed a bit before pulling her hands back to her own chest and jerking her head outwards away from the pale expanse of the demon slayer’s chest. If at all possible, she was sure steam would roll out of her ears like active geysers.

Mitsuri didn’t notice anything amiss and took the few steps needed to lay (Y/n) down in the sad little bed. Then she paid careful attention to (Y/n)’s leg, tilting and rotating it while getting feedback from the girl.

“Well, I don’t think it’s broken, but you should definitely stay off of it for awhile.” Mitsuri informed, feeling anxious. “So you know anyone nearby? Someone that can assist you with your recovery?”

“I’ll be just fine, trust me.” (Y/n) had said.

“That um, didn’t really answer my question.” Mitsuri smiled a bit tightly as more worry settled in her heart. “Do you have family nearby, friends, close acquaintances?”

“If you must know,” (Y/n) weakly spat, “there isn’t anyone. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly two years now.” She finished bitterly.

Mitsuri flinched back at (Y/n)’s tone and the bedridden girl immediately felt bad. She was only trying to help after all. (Y/n) would have been dead without her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“It’s alright. You’ve had a hard night,” Mitsuri patted (Y/n)’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll just have to watch over you then.”

“Cawww!”

Mitsuri looked over her shoulder at her crow, flapping and comically sweating buckets from her uneasy perch on the windowsill.

“I can take care of myself,” (Y/n) voiced her stance once more, “besides, it looks like your work isn’t over yet. Take a couple loafs for the road as thanks. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

“I couldn’t.” Mitsuri shook her head. The girl already had so little, it would be a crime to take advantage. She was already paid plenty as a Hashira, she could hold out for a few more hours.

“I insist. I make more than I know what to do with. Quite a bit gets thrown to the wildlife.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Mitsuri’s resolve crumbled like loose gravel. She was hungry, and the bread smelled really, really good. If (Y/n) was going to insist, how could she say no? Then Mitsuri straightened as an idea formed in her mind. (Y/n) startled as Mitsuri loudly smacked her hands together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, tomorrow before the sun sets!” Mitsuri said with conviction.

“What?” (Y/n) blinked, watching Mitsuri pack three loafs of bread into a rucksack before giving it back to her crow to fly off with.

“I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Mitsuri said before taking a bite out of a fourth loaf of bread. “Mmm, this is so good!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have to get going now, but I’ll be back! Keep your weight off that ankle and don’t strain yourself!” Mitsuri called as she opened the front door.

“No, wait, Kanroji-san!”

But she was already gone, the door closed tightly behind her before she ran off headlong into the dangerous night.

“And she’s gone,” (Y/n) sighed, “just who is she anyway? She’s practically superhuman,” she covered her face in the crook of her good arm, “and she’s really pretty.”

***

By morning Mitsuri was halfway through her last loaf of bread and standing before the familiar sight of the Butterfly Estate. After seeing the state of (Y/n)’s medical supplies, Mitsuri thought it prudent to visit Shinobu and procure a kit for the girl.

“Mitsuri, hello.” Shinobu greeted upon looking up from her microscope. “What brings you here today?”

“Shinobu, you have to help me,” Mitsuri immediately started in, “I saved a girl last night and she got a roughed up a bit before I got to her. Can you help me make a medical kit for her?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Shinobu smiled, “but I must ask, why not just take her to a civilian doctor? Surely they would be able to provide the help she may need.”

“She lives alone in the mountains. She seems to have a bad relationship with the village in the valley below, but I don’t know why.”

“Just be careful then,” Shinobu warned, “who knows, you might be dealing with a criminal.”

“No way!” Mitsuri gasped, waving the last couple bites of bread in front of Shinobu’s face, “Could a criminal make bread this good? I think not!”

“Please stay vigilant regardless,” Shinobu giggled before switching gears, “now, tell me what happened last night.”

Mitsuri explained the situation the best she could, detailing (Y/n)’s injuries and what supplies she had left. Shinobu helped her pack up a new med kit that would not only replenish (Y/n)’s supplies, but give her some other helpful medicines that she didn’t have initially. Mitsuri thanked Shinobu with a tight hug that forced her fellow Pillar to dangle in the air for a few moments before being lowered to the ground once more. Then she made her way off the property, running off into the woods. She had a lot of ground to cover before sunset.

After a few hours of travel Mitsuri was feeling peckish. She had unfortunately finished the last loaf of bread before leaving Shinobu’s estate and didn’t have time to replenish her snack sack that her crow carried for her. If she was lucky, maybe the festival she had stumbled upon last night was a multiple night event and she could stalk up once she checked on (Y/n).

With an excited hum, she practically flew up the mountain, making her way in the general direction she knew (Y/n)’s shack to be.

“Oh dear, was it a left at this boulder or a right?” Mitsuri mumbled to herself. The forest was more inviting in the evening light but it looked so different. Cautiously, she tried the left path and scoured her surroundings for anything that looked familiar.

Mitsuri had begun to grow a bit anxious, worried that she had taken a wrong turn. She took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself which was quickly followed by a few more testing scentings of the air. Something smelled delicious. She couldn’t be sure, but it was the best lead she had so far. She followed the hearty aroma and cheered to herself as the rundown, misshapen hut came into view.

The Hashira wasted no time hopping up to the door. She gave a courtesy knock and announced herself before letting herself inside. She smiled to herself as she imagined how happy (Y/n) would be to have such an arsenal of medicinal goods. That smile quickly became a shocked, open mouth of light horror upon seeing (Y/n) up and moving about her small home.

“Ah! I thought I told you not to put any weight on that ankle, you’ll hurt yourself!” Mitsuri worried. She quickly went up to (Y/n) with her arms out in front of her like (Y/n) would collapse at any moment.

“I couldn’t just lay in bed all day.” (Y/n) tried to reason. “You said you were coming back so I felt the need to make dinner for you. You know, to repay you for all you’re doing for me. A little ankle pain can hardly keep me down.”

Mitsuri was touched by the gesture, it made her heart flutter with appreciation, but (Y/n) needed to follow her instructions or who knows what long term damage she would cause herself.

“It smells wonderful, (L/n)-san and I thank you endlessly, but please, lay down right now!”

“I’ve been taking breaks. I’m fine—ah!“

Ah, swept off her feet by the strong and beautiful demon slayer once again. As embarrassing as being doted on in this manner was, (Y/n) was definitely going to revisit this tender care in her dreams. Gods, she was touch starved.

“Really (L/n)-san, don’t be difficult. Let me check on your shoulder, okay?” Mitsuri didn’t even sound strained as she slowly placed (Y/n) down on the futon.

“Oh, okay.” (Y/n) fought through the fuzzy tingles, shaking them from her body as she slid her sleeve off her shoulder.

“Aw, it looks a little infected,” Mitsuri whined as she softly prodded the tender flesh, “but don’t worry! I paid a visit to a dear friend today and I’ve got everything you’ll need!”

“Kanroji-san, this is too much.” (Y/n) gaped in awe at the tightly packed tin Mitsuri presented to her.

“Not at all! Now, hold still while I apply some of this cream.” Mitsuri beamed before swirling the cool salve over the cuts. (Y/n) flinched a bit but the numbing chill soon soothed the pain.

“Wow, that feels really nice.”

“Right? I can always trust Shinobu for the best!” Mitsuri proudly proclaimed as she finished re-wrapping (Y/n)’s shoulder. She then took care of (Y/n)’s ankle the way Shinobu had suggested and looked at her handiwork with pride. “There all done! Shinobu said you’ll want to keep it elevated and free of strain for at least two weeks.”

“Okay, I’ll rest where I can. Thank you.”

“No no,” Mitsuri made an ‘x’ with her arms and pouted, “none of that, you have to rest!”

“I can’t afford to rest. It’s not easy living in the mountains alone.” (Y/n) informed, her eyes shifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder at the burning embers in her ‘kitchen’, “Could you take that off the heat please?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Mitsuri shot up and stole to the dingy pot, her eyes shined upon witnessing the rich, golden broth up close. “Wow, this looks amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so, the mountains are harsh but there are plenty of resources if you know where to look. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you so much! Here, let me get you a bowl as well. Food always tastes better with company after all.”

Mitsuri tried to prepare another bowl for (Y/n) but quickly discovered she only had one. It seemed like the more she looked at the place, the sadder it made her. (Y/n) seemed to notice the sudden downtick in the slayer’s mood and spoke up.

“Hey, I’ve got a tea mug I’ll happily drink from if you don’t mind my bad manners.” She laughed, provoking a smile from Mitsuri.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

They ate the broth and fresh bread together as they made small talk and Mitsuri was having a great time. It was rare to get to know someone she rescued like this and being able to see (Y/n) while the sun had not yet fully disappeared she got an opportunity to have a really good look at her.

Mitsuri’s face heated as (Y/n) laughed at something she said and she silently praised the forces at hand that allowed her to make it to her in time. It felt good, so very rewarding, to know such a beautiful soul’s time was not cut short by a cruel end. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Something on your mind, Kanroji-san?” (Y/n) asked, breaking Mitsuri from her thoughts with a start.

“Oh! I, um, I was just thinking about how good your food is! You know, the village down below was having a festival yesterday. I bet you could sell a lot of what you make really quickly if you set up a stall there.” Mitsuri exclaimed before diving back in.

(Y/n)’s face soured a bit at the thought, though she sighed wistfully and a sad smile crossed her lips.

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She said before taking another sip from her chipped cup.

“Why don’t you go down to the village, (L/n)-san?” Mitsuri asked, her pastel-green eyes gazed at (Y/n)’s downcast face.

(Y/n) stayed silent for a few moments, debating with herself if it was worth delving into her strife with a girl she had only just met the night before and probably wouldn’t see again. At least, she definitely wouldn’t see her again if she were to explain her situation.

“It’s not something I’d really care to discuss. Sorry.” (Y/n) curtly replied.

“No, I’m sorry,” Mitsuri frowned, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. It was an innocent question.” (Y/n) assured, giving Mitsuri’s knee a friendly pat before withdrawing once more.

They continued to talk about anything until the sun disappeared and the stars lit up the night sky and the lanterns were lit to illuminate the hut.

Mitsuri needed to go. The Hashira was reluctant but she wasn’t going to leave (Y/n) completely on her own just yet. She told the mountain dweller she’d come back to check on her in three days time, giggling at the girl’s surprise at the declaration. Mitsuri reasoned that (Y/n) would still need help while she recovered and although she was busy with her duties, she couldn’t in good conscious leave (Y/n) completely on her own. Especially when the girl had a tendency to skip out of much needed rest.

Mitsuri filled her rucksack to her heart’s with (Y/n)’s blessing and set off into the night. She hoped to see improvements in (Y/n)’s health when she returned in a few days.

***

The next visit went well. Mitsuri still had to scold (Y/n) for moving about, but she still, albeit a bit guiltily, heartily ate the meals (Y/n) would prepare for her upon her arrival.

Even after (Y/n) had completely healed, Mitsuri didn’t stop visiting. (Y/n) would always laugh when Mitsuri would show up unannounced, joking that feeding Mitsuri was like feeding a stray cat, she’d always come back for more. (Y/n) was happy for the company though. Very happy.

Mitsuri would also bring little things to make (Y/n)’s shack more bearable, starting with an extra set of dishes so they could properly enjoy a meal together. Before long, they considered themselves close enough to be real friends.

One night Mitsuri came by so late, she had awoken (Y/n) when she knocked on the door. (Y/n) let her in and Mitsuri nearly toppled them both over in her exhaustion.

“Hi,” Mitsuri whispered both shyly and with great exhaustion, “sorry for coming by so late. It’s just been a really long night and I think I’m about to crash any minute now. You were the closest to where I was so...”

“You know better than to think you ever need have an excuse to stop by.” (Y/n) lightly scolded. “Come lay down, are you hungry?” She asked, laying the Hashira down on the new futon that Mitsuri had brought for (Y/n) a couple visits prior.

“I could never say no to anything you make.” Mitsuri smiled, causing a prickly heat to swirl over (Y/n)’s cheeks.

(Y/n) heated up her leftovers and presented them to Mitsuri who ate them with the same vigor she would have if it was fresh.

“So good,” she sighed happily, “really, if this is what you can make in this little hut, I would die of happiness to see what you could do in a proper kitchen.”

“You flatter me, Mitsuri.” (Y/n) smiled shyly. It still gave her butterflies to speak to the demon slayer so familiarly, but it was a good feeling.

“I’m serious, (Y/n)!” Mitsuri swore, “I still maintain that I think you would do very well in the village.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips, which Mitsuri noticed straight away and mirrored before fidgeting with the now empty bowl in her hands.

“Are you ready to talk about that yet? It’s alright if you aren’t.” She hesitantly asked.

(Y/n) would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn’t nervous at the prospect of telling Mitsuri her history with the village, but she found herself wanting to share that part of her story with the sweet woman. Mitsuri had never done anything to hurt her, but that’s what made the aspect of sharing so much more frightening. What if Mitsuri became disgusted with her? Accused her of befriending her with alternative motives? But when (Y/n) met her eyes those doubts quieted and she took a deep shutters breath before blowing it all back out in one harsh breath.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to listen? It might be better if you sleep for the night first.”

Mitsuri seemed more alert already, sitting up fully in the bed and giving (Y/n) her full, undivided attention. “No, I can listen! I want to be able to understand you better and support you in anyway I can! Tell me whatever you are comfortable sharing.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) took another breath, taking a moment to decide how to proceed.

“I was born and raised in that valley, actually. My family owns an inn that doubles as a restaurant to boot.”

“That explains a lot.” Mitsuri commented with a small smile, patting at her full stomach. That earned a chuckle and a nod from (Y/n) before she continued.

“Yeah, my mom started teaching me almost as soon as I could stand on my own. She was strict, but with food that good, she was entitled to that attitude. My father took care of the inn side of things and when he wasn’t doing that, he was drinking his weight in saké.” (Y/n) took note of Mitsuri’s concern and patted her hand while flashing her a reassuring half smile.

“It wasn’t ideal, but that was just life. Incredibly, the business didn’t suffer and he never treated us badly so we saw no need to address it. I didn’t know of any other way of life so I was content where I was. Until...”

“Until what, (Y/n)?” Mitsuri cocked her head to the side.

“Until my parents arranged a marriage for me to be wed to the blacksmith’s son. The union would have brought a large sum of money to my family. The whole village seemed to know about it before I did.” (Y/n) chuckled humorlessly and shook her head while Mitsuri listened, holding herself back from jumping in to ask questions.

“They would talk over me about what I’d wear, who would be invited, even as far as when I should bare a child. I felt like everything I thought I knew was crumbling around me. I hadn’t even talked to the blacksmith’s son before. Even now I don’t recall his name. All I knew was that the idea of marrying him terrified me.”

“Did you tell your parents this?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but blurt, her eyebrows had upturned and creased her forehead.

“Yes,” (Y/n)’s eyes shadowed over as she peered down at her lap, “I admit, the middle of town wasn’t the best place to air my reservations, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They would tell me it was just cold feet or that I was overreacting. Then I had finally had it, and two days before the wedding, I screamed at my mother that I didn’t want to be married to some boy I had never talked to and made a big scene.

She had said then, since I was making such a fuss, that I must have been handing myself out to some other boy while her back was turned and it just made me so mad. I told her there was no other boy, that I didn’t want one.” (Y/n) sighed and pressed her head back against the wall.

“I told her that the only people that I had ever thought of marrying were either the grocer’s eldest daughter or the seamstress’ apprentice who had helped me at my fitting the day prior and then my mother slapped me in front of the whole village.”

Mitsuri gasped, covering her mouth. She was no stranger to the disappointment of a parent, but her parents had never laid a hand on her for any of her failed engagements.

“She was disgusted with me and word traveled fast. The blacksmith called off the arrangement, not wanting his son to have anything to do with my... perversions I think he called them. The grocer refused to sell his produce to my family and kept his daughters inside.

My father, once greatly respected, was humiliated by me and shunned by the whole village. He was furious and drunk which made for a very bad combination as you may imagine. I was severely... disciplined and locked away.

Later that night, I could hear him and my mother discussing selling me to a brothel to be trained as a courtesan. Needless to say, once I believed they were asleep I tore through the paper wall of the room I was trapped in and packed up what I could carry before I escaped into the mountains. I’ve been surviving here ever since.”

As (Y/n) finished her story, Mitsuri sniffed loudly and hiccuped, startling (Y/n) from her memories to try to comfort the demon slayer as she cried for her. Mitsuri pulled (Y/n) into her chest with such ferocity that it cracked the poor girl’s spine.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve such treatment!” The Hashira blubbered. “It was awful of me to ever suggest you go back to that terrible place devoid of love and compassion.”

(Y/n) struggled to breath and patted Mitsuri’s back. “Don’t be hard on yourself, you didn’t know. It’s okay.”

Getting all of that out there, having someone to listen and not judge her for her tale, it made (Y/n) feel so much lighter. Mitsuri kept her close and rocked their bodies side to side and how was (Y/n) not going to cry when she hadn’t been treated so tenderly since she was little. Before long, they were both sobbing messes in the corner of a dingy shack in the middle of the mountains.

By the time their bout had subsided into the occasional sniffle or the loud, gross honk of mucus being sucked back up someone’s nose, the girls had migrated to spooning on the futon with one of Mitsuri’s arms wrapped securely over (Y/n)’s side while the the other alternated between lightly scratching at the nape of (Y/n)’s neck and between her shoulder blades. The fit on the futon was tight, but neither seemed to mind.

“You know,” (Y/n) sighed, “the night you saved me I was out because there is a cliff that you can see the whole village from. I knew the festival lights would be up and I really wanted to feel the warmth I used to feel at festival season. Figures I’d be attacked by a demon before I even got there.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” Mitsuri said, her voice coming out a tad nasally because of her stuffy nose.

“I didn’t mean for that to make you sad. I was just going to say I was glad for that night for nothing else other than I got to meet you. Thank you for sticking around, Mitsuri.”

“Now you’re being so sweet I’m gonna cry again!” Mitsuri sniffled, weakly batting at (Y/n) and making her laugh as she apologized.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Mitsuri whispered softly once they calmed down again. Then they finally went to sleep as the sun was rising.

***

“I just— mm! I don’t want her living in that rundown shack anymore. I never did! But now, I think about it all the time and I just can't stand it!” Mitsuri complained to Shinobu as the Insect Pillar tried to concentrate on the medicines she was measuring out.

“I see.” Shinobu answered simply, making a note before giving Mitsuri her full attention, “Well, if she’s as good of a cook as you keep telling me, I’m sure Aoi would be happy for another pair of hands in the kitchens.”

“What?” Mitsuri blinked.

“You know me, Mitsuri. I have a history of taking in young girls who have nowhere to go. I assume that’s why you have been telling me all of this.” Shinobu smiled mischievously, “besides, you make her sound so cute, how could I say no?”

That got a rise out of the Love Hashira.

“You—! You already have a girlfriend!” Mitsuri sputtered her face as pink as her hair at the possibility of Shinobu trying to woo (Y/n). Worse yet, the very real possibility that it would work! Mitsuri knew just how charming Shinobu could be! But thankfully, Shinobu laughed and diffused the state Mitsuri had worked herself into.

“I was only teasing, but she really can live here. I have plenty of room. I just figured you would want to keep her closer. I didn’t realize your estate was operating at full capacity.”

“Wait, say that again.” Mitsuri said, the wheels in her head turning as she tried to work backwards herself.

“(L/n)-san can live here?” Shinobu tried.

“No, after that.”

“I didn’t realize your own estate was running at full capacity. I thought you would want (L/n)-san to live with you.” Shinobu reiterated.

“Ah!” Mitsuri shrieked, making Shinobu wince ever so slightly. Then Mitsuri roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her around a little bit, “You, Kochou Shinobu, are a genius! I can’t believe I hadn’t realized sooner! Thanks for the talk, bye!”

“Take care!” Shinobu saw Mitsuri off, fixing her tousled fringe as she watched the blur of pink, green and white run out of sight around the corner. Deciding she was due for a break, she wandered down the opposite end of the hall to find out what her girlfriend was up to at the moment.

***

By now, Mitsuri knew the mountain like she knew the back for her hand. The delicious scent of sizzling vegetables and meats never hurt either of course. She didn’t even bother to knock before letting herself in.

“I had a feeling you’d come by today.” (Y/n) smiled as she checked over her shoulder, “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m glad it proved true because I definitely made too much food.”

“(Y/n), live with me.” Mitsuri blurted before shyly hiding her face in her hands. How could she ask that so suddenly? Never mind ask, she definitely didn’t even phrase it as a question!

“Huh?” Was all (Y/n) could get out before she forgot how her voice worked.

“Would, would you maybe, possibly consider maybe living with me?” Mitsuri tried again, her voice raised almost to the point of cracking with every word.

“...I wouldn’t want to impose.” (Y/n) nervously replied after a few moments, busying herself by stirring a pot that was in no need of attention.

“You wouldn’t be!” Mitsuri said with more conviction. “I really want you to come with me. I know you are proud of what you have managed to do for yourself, it’s better than anything I could ever make, but the more time passes, I can’t help but hate how you still live in this rundown, rickety, shack that I can clear in four strides!” Mitsuri demonstrated her point by walking from one wall to the other before turning back to (Y/n) with pleading eyes.

“Please, come live with me. I love you and you deserve more than this.”

“La, la, lalala, lov, love... love me?” (Y/n) quickly turned back to her cooking as the fire cracked so loud it made her jump. Why was she acting like this? Mitsuri loved a lot of people, she obviously meant a friendly, platonic kind of love and now she had just made it even more awkward!

But then (Y/n) jolted again when Mitsuri’s strong arms wrapped around her middle and her chin rested against her shoulder. The Hashira hummed an affirmative as she slowly began to rock them side to side. Between the heat of the low fire and the heat of Mitsuri’s front pressed against her back, (Y/n) was sure she was going to pass out.

“Please (Y/n), live with me?” Mitsuri asked softly. She kissed (Y/n)’s jaw as she moved.

“?!??!!” (Y/n) short circuited, lost in Mitsuri’s softness. Mitsuri merely giggled and rested another to (Y/n)’s cheek, then her ear, her temple, until—

“Oh dear!” Mitsuri gasped as (Y/n) fell limp in her arms. “(Y/n), are you alright? Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something? You shouldn’t be up!”

“I, I’m not sick,” (Y/n) mumbled, smoke rolling off of her like a steam boat, “It’s just a lot of touching that I’m not really used to yet.”

“Oh! Should I stop?”

“Gods no.” (Y/n) sighed and gripped onto Mitsuri’s haori so she couldn’t back away.

Mitsuri beamed brightly before resting a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead and rubbed her back. “Come with me?” She asked again.

“I’d follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked.” (Y/n)’s eyes slipped shut as she enjoyed Mitsuri’s scattered kisses.

“Great! I can’t wait for you to meet all my friends! Iguro-san and Kabumaru will love you, Kyoujirou-san too! He’ll love your cooking. Just watch out for Shinobu though, she’s flirty.”

“Okay, I’ll stay vigilant.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Good girl,” Mitsuri nodded, “now let’s pack up all that you hold dear. We should be able to make it to my estate by dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” (Y/n) nodded excitedly in return. She took the little pail of water from the floor and doused the low flame, “maybe you’d like lunch first though? I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

“Yes! Lunch first and then the beginning of the rest of our lives!” Mitsuri amended, skipping over to the meal (Y/n) had prepared.

As they are together (Y/n) couldn’t help but grin. Mitsuri was right, food really did taste better when sharing it with people you love. The kisses and nuzzles throughout the meal didn’t hurt either.

[thewildwaffle]

Humans are Weird - Birthdays

Another prompt from a lovely user on ao3

When humans throw a party, they don’t mess around. Or well, they do, that’s like half the point of their parties most of the time. What they don’t mess around with is the planning, preparation, and all-out general excitement and energy that goes into their parties. Scarsels, they'd only gotten halfway through the setup and decorating for Human Dana’s party and it seemed like it would be almost as much fun as the party itself! The special occasion this time was to commemorate the anniversary of Human Dana’s birth. When Peterrias was first told about the party plans, he'd been a bit blown away by just how much of everything there was. His people celebrated the anniversary of their hatching day, sure, but it was usually more of a happy acknowledgment of the day itself and of the life lived to that point rather than a formal festivity. Excited to be a part of such an important Earth culture custom, he had volunteered to help get things set up. There was a lot more that went into a human birthday party than he realized. At first, he'd gone with Human Jackson to help make the refreshments and treats that would be available to guests. He'd spent a little bit of time cutting up fresh vegetables that were edible for everyone on the crew to eat and arrange them on a colorful platter. That didn’t take long to do, but by the time he had it done, all the food preparation tasks that involved working with “safe” ingredients had already been taken. Not wanting to be in the way of preparations there, Peterias had wandered back to the main rec hall where the party decorations were at that point well underway. The humans had requisitioned party supplies the last time they’d stopped in a port with a half-decent market. Earth wares, as popular as they’ve become, were pretty easy to find, even very specific items like balloons, streamers, and a large pack of funny-looking conical hats.

Garubi sefra and human Jieun were setting up the streamers now. They twisted the thin strips of colorful paper into beautiful, swirling, drapes that swept from one side of the room to the other. He paused to take in the sight for a moment. There was something familiar about it all, but he couldn’t figure out why. Anyway, it was a lovely scene. Humans really did go all out. Or maybe this was just a good outlet for them to vent any pent-up creativity and partying they’d been holding in for the past few partecs aboard the ship. He suspected a combination of both. “Is there anything I can do to help here,” he approached the decorators. Human Jieun was having to climb up and down a step ladder to reach high enough to place the streamers. Peterias was one of the few crewmates aboard that stood taller than humans. That with his long arms and great reach, this seemed like the perfect job for him. With a little explanation, a few hijinks that went on while figuring out how to not get the tape to stick to him, he had the entire hall “decked out” as Jieun declared. There was still about half a roll of the decorative paper leftover. He watched it as he bounced it in his hand, smiling as it dawned on him why it looked so familiar to him. It looked just like a popular candy he enjoyed when he was a young hatchling. Wouldn’t it just be like humans to use pretty sweets as decorations? He had to admit, it was kind of a fun idea to multitask like that. Making sure no one was watching, he snuck a tentative nibble at the paper. It was absolutely disgusting. Definitely not a sweet ribbon! Oh, by the stars, it was so bitter! “Did you just try eating the crepe paper?” Jieun clapped a hand on Peterias’ shoulder as he came up from behind. “I’d guess from your face that it wasn’t very good!” “Pleah! Pleh… I… uh, you… you saw that?” He figured Jieun’s laughter was enough affirmation. “To be fair,” Garubi came to Peterias’ aide, “when I first saw the streamers, I thought they looked like large rolls of sweet ribbon as well.” Jieun’s smile remained as large as ever. “Yeah, but you didn’t try eating it!” Garubi took the remainder of the streamer roll from Peterias and went to put it away. “Not when you were looking,” Peterias heard the sefra mutter quietly before he got too far. Even though the room was already looking very festive, humans do not mess around when it comes to throwing parties. He helped Jieun and a few others set up some games and activities for the party. Once again, many hands might light work and the only thing left to do, so Jieun said, was blow up a few more balloons. “Thanks for helping set up though, I really do appreciate it. Dana’s going to love this! She has no idea we’ve got this planned, I can’t wait to see the look on her face!” “Glad to be included in such an important celebration of life,” Peterias closed his eyes and nodded to return for Jieun’s smile. “I am also very excited about the party. If I may ask, do you know how many years Dana is marking today?” “Uh, well, she’s turning thirty-seven in Earth years. I’d have to do the math to convert that to galactic standardized. I know doing that would make it a fraction of some sort.” Peterias tilted his head trying to recall what he knew about Earth. Their day cycles fell into an average length among inhabited homeworlds. The way they divided their days was a little funny but close enough that many humans had no problem converting to galactic standardized times. Years though, years seemed a little long to him, though he couldn’t remember the conversion rate right at the moment. Still, even if they weren’t too far off of GS time, thirty-seven was quite the number! He hadn’t realized Dana was a senior citizen! “That’s amazing,” Peterias’ voice was excited but respectful. “Do you think she’ll stay on the crew much longer then?” “Uh, yeah, I mean I don’t know what she’s planning, but I’d think so. I mean, why wouldn’t she?” “Well,” Peterias wasn’t completely sure how best to say this without sounding offensive or rude. He’d heard humans could be touchy about their ages later on in life. “Won’t she… won’t she want to retire soon?” Half of Jieun’s face scrunched up to make a funny expression. “Retire? Why would she want to do that?” “Um, well, you know… as most species age, they find this line of work to start becoming… uh, well a bit too demanding on… uh… elderly bodies?” Jieun stared at him without saying anything that Peterias started worrying that he had broken some human taboo about talking about getting old. “Dude. Dana’s turning thirty-seven, not eighty-seven. And even if she was, I still don’t think she’d retire. Have you seen her on duty? That lady loves blasting asteroids.” Jieun chuckled as if recalling a memory as he grabbed a rubber balloon and began forcing air into it through his mouth. As Peterias watched the blue shape grow in size, something Jieun said finally clicked. “Wait, eighty-seven? Do humans live that long?!” Jieun removed the balloon from his lips and tied the end so the air wouldn’t escape. “Well, I mean, with proper diet and exercise, a bit of good luck and good genes, yeah. I mean nowadays, it’s not too crazy to see people living and even being fairly active into their hundreds.” “What?!” Jieun had to be joking. Humans loved playing practical jokes. He kept waiting for his crewmate’s face to break into a wide grin and laugh at his attempt to “pull his leg” as the human saying went. As the tiks went by though, Jieun didn’t back down from his bold statement and instead started blowing up another balloon. “Oh,” Peterias shook his head. “Oh how silly of me. I forgot about the year ratio. Earth must circumnavigate it’s star fairly quickly. There for a bit, I thought you were saying humans could live for over 100 galactic standard years.” Jieun opened his mouth and let the half-filled balloon propel itself around the room wildly. “Uh, yeah, we can. Easily. I think the ratio is like, uh just a little over two-thirds of an Earth year for every galactic standardized year. Something like that? If we’re talking SG years, 130 is around the average life expectancy. 180’s getting up there. I think the oldest living human right now is pushing 195 SG years or something like that.” Shivers ran down Peterias’ whole body. He felt the proto-feathers along his spine rise up. He felt like he was frozen in place as his brain used 100% of its capacity to try to process what he’d just been told. There was no way. He’d have known about this before, right? Of all the rumors that flew around about humans, this would have been one of them, right? He kept waiting for a punchline, for Jieun’s nonchalant facade to drop and for him to start laughing at the hilarious joke he’d been trying to get Peterias to believe. But it didn’t happen. He wasn’t joking. Instead, Jieun held out his hand. “Let me see, I guess that would make Dana....” His fingers went up and down as he calculated, “Oh, a little over sixty I guess. In SG, that is.” He then went to retrieve the balloon he’d let escape before and proceeded to blow it up again, tying it off this time. Peterias just stood there, still frozen. He watched the human continue to put the final touches of decorations around the room. How old was Jieun? He saw human Jackson enter the room, being helped by several other crewmates as they carried in platters of prepared party snacks. How old was he? How old were any of the other human crewmates aboard the ship? How much had they seen and how much life had they lived even before they stepped aboard the ship? He was finally pulled out of his frozen state as everyone scrambled to hiding spots. Realizing he was still standing in the middle of the room, Garubi came up behind him and led him to a spot where he could crouch behind a chair. “Come on, they said part of the celebration is to jump out and surprise the birthday celebrant when they arrive at their party.” Peterias allowed themselves to be pulled along and even made sure to tuck their tail in closely so as to hide better behind the chair. It was futile, he was too large, but thinking on that right now seemed beyond his capabilities. Dana was indeed surprised when she arrived. She screamed, out of shock at first, then in delight. There was a lot of laughter, music, and talking, and a surprising amount of very bad, off-key singing to a very repetitive song. It felt almost like visiting a harvest festival back home, so happy and celebratory! Except unlike the festivals, this was for one person. Before, it might have seemed a bit excessive, even by human standards. Now he realized that with this celebration of life, there was a lot of life to celebrate. The planning and preparation that had gone into the party was well worth the effort. Peterias hadn’t had as much fun in some time. It wasn’t any one particular game they played or amusing story that was told that made it so much fun. It was more just, how happy everyone was. The humans, especially Dana, just seemed to radiate a warm happy energy that was particularly infectious. Peterias smiled as he watched Jackson get animated as he recounted an adventure he’d had as a youth on Earth. It was, of course, a story about him doing something dangerous and how he got out of it, and he had several delighted crewmates hanging onto every word. Peterias, chuckled as a thought came to him while watching the scene. Humans live such long lives. He’d had no idea. He supposed that some, after hearing Jackson’s story and knowing what ridiculous antics humans got into on the regular, might postulate that humans live so long because death itself is hesitant to claim them. As he looked around the room though, he caught eyes with human Dana who smiled that strange warm, and slightly scary way that humans do. She held up her hands together to form a shape that he’d been told was a symbol of love and mouthed the words “thank you” to him. Peterias nodded and smiled back. His mind started wandering again. Somewhere in his brain, the new information of human’s life spans was being put together with other tales and warnings he’d ever heard about them like puzzle pieces. That’s why everyone’s always worried about offending humans. They have such long lives that they could hold grudges for what would be lifetimes for other races. That’s why they’re so good at multitasking or will often come onto crews with multiple advanced skills. They have plenty of time to hone their talents. That’s why they can be so forgetful at times. They have a lot of life stored in their memories. There was a large collection of gasps and laughter from the crowd around Jackson as he finished up his story. Soon, Dana took over as the next storyteller about one of her own fool-hardy enterprises she’d had once. It wasn’t quite as much of an adventurous tale as Jackson’s had been, but it was a good story and she told it well. Peterias smiled as he listened in. He was glad humans lived so long, for a lot of reasons. Maybe those who half-joked when they said that death was afraid to claim humans were right. They certainly were a handful in the realm of life, they’d probably continue to be a handful in the realm beyond. In any case, whatever the reason may be, he was glad he’d have his friends around for a long time.

[ramzawrites]

Wherever the world takes us Part 1 - A SBI!Reader insert

GN

Pairings: none Characters included: Philza, Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Cpt Puffy, Schlatt, Captain Sparklez, (mentioned) Fundy Warnings: small mention of death Series: Yes, planned slow updates but this happens in a slight AU world of the official lore of the dsmp and follows along the plot only this time the reader gets included as the middle hybrid child of the SBI Part 2

Summary: A small introduction to the SBI family dynamic including the reader! Today is Techno’s big day at the local festival! He get’s to participate in a fighting tournament but until that happens there is still a ton of time to somehow still get into trouble, isn’t there?

Word count: 4380

Shapeshifters aren’t as rare as many people think. In fact many carry that gene but not everyone ends up showing the properties of one. If you have the active gene you may show first changes during your early childhood which then stretches out until your late teens where the changes will stop resulting in the persons usual animal like form. These changes can range from a whole body covered in fur to having goat like eyes or just horns on their head.

As far as scientists know there isn’t a real reason as to what the final form will be since Shapeshifters who are directly related to one another can have complete and drastically different forms to each other. Though an old myth has been going around for as long as people know that the form a Shapeshifter takes is a result of their subconscious, something that mirrors their true self. Sadly due to this belief many Non-Shifters hold stereotypes and prejudice towards them.

Philza was a Shapeshifter himself. As a kid two stubs slowly appeared at his back and settled in over the years as beautiful huge black wings that he could use for takeoff and a bit for flying but mostly functioned better for gliding around. He used these wings to later travel around the world, learning everything about it and training himself.

At some point he did settle down again and ended up fathering four children alone of whom two showed Shapeshifter properties as well.

There were the twins Technoblade and Wilbur. Technoblade showed from an early age on a deeper interest in fighting. Always asking to learn more than the self-defense techniques their father was teaching them, so Philza took the time to teach him everything he knew. Gifting him later on a proper iron sword which Techno then used to train almost daily with. Philza later had to put mending on that sword since it was chipped and scratched in a short time over heavy use. He is also one of the two children of Philza who ended up being a Shapeshifter. They first noticed when two of his teeth in his lower jaw tended to peek out of his mouth. Over the years these two teeth turned into full blown tusks, flappy pink ears would appear on his head, his hair slowly turned into a soft pink, as well as bristle like fur begun growing on his arms. It were the characteristics of a pig as they soon realized.

Wilbur the younger of the twins by two minutes was more interested in music and books. Philza gifted him a guitar the same time he gave Techno his first sword. From that point on it was a rare thing if you didn’t see Wilbur’s guitar around him. Either on his person or laying close by him. Over time he got really proficient with the instrument and begun writing amazing songs as well as singing them himself.

The middle child Y/N was the more mellow of the whole bunch though this didn’t mean much in the context of the whole family. While they happily took part in whatever trouble their siblings got up to they were at the end the first person that would try to help solve these troubles as well and took care of any wounds. To that end they soon learned how to grow their own herbs to make medicine. This was something Philza taught them. Both would spent a ton of time in the garden, so much so, that the garden was dubbed Y/N’s and Dad’s garden. Techno would sometimes help out as well but that was a more rare occurrence. Y/N was the second kid with the active Shapeshifter gene. Just like their father, two stubs appeared at their back that too would turn into huge black wings. Y/N still remembered how perplexed but proud Philza was when he understood what was happening. They didn’t know what they expected from their father but this reaction wasn’t it. But they weren’t mad about it.

The youngest of the family was Tommy and he was the number one reason why the kids got into trouble in the first place. He would wake up, make weird plans and rope the others into it as well. Wilbur was the first he would usually try to recruit to which Techno then would reluctantly join knowing that if the two are together they will need help later on. Getting Y/N on board was pretty easy as well. It was either a thing of them knowing they will one hundred percent get hurt so best to join in now or they were feeling particularly chaotic that day and wouldn’t even hesitate to join.

Back when they all lived together in their old cottage home their daily lives would always start in the same way.

Philza would be the first awake. He would wake the children up and continue downstairs to work on breakfast for everyone.

There was no real order to who would be the first downstairs for food but it was always Y/N who would be the last to join the group. Moving in front of their designated chair only to stretch before properly sitting down.

“Ew! Gross! Your wing touched my food!” Wilbur exclaimed angrily, pulling the plate with his food closer to himself and farther away from his sibling.

Y/N rolled their eyes “I’m not poisonous, Wilbur.”

“Still gross.” He muttered more to himself as he reluctantly took a bite from his toast.

Phil eyed the two but looked back down to his food and coffee “Your wings are getting pretty big. I’m sure it won’t take long until you can do more than just gliding about.”

“So, that means you can teach them to fly soon?” Tommy was the one to ask surprisingly. Sure, that was on Y/N’s mind as well so they didn’t mind Tommy saying what they thought but they still felt like it was a bad sign and a call for trouble though they couldn’t think how nor did they care enough to find out.

Philza raised one of his eyebrows, obviously taking note of that fact as well. It was something you learned to look out for once you spend enough time with Tommy. “I’m not sure how soon but I think so, yeah.”

“Cool.” Was all Tommy remarked. He then proceeded to stare at his food so his family would get their suspicion off of him. Acting as if he didn’t just figuratively plant a huge red flag on the table with the words “I have a plan!”.

Y/N on the other hand couldn’t help to smile. They were excited for the eventual day when Philza could finally teach them how to fly. For the longest time now they have only learned to use their wings to glide and got really good at changing directions while doing so. Taking care of their wings was already a pain so they wanted to get at least something good out of having them in the first place and being able to properly fly is a huge plus since getting into positions where you could actually  glide around was a difficult and a bothersome thing.

Philza sighed choosing to ignore Tommy and instead turned to look at Wilbur and Y/N “What is your plan today? Want to join me and Techno when we go into town for the tournament?”

After a few seconds of confused expressions between the two Wilbur suddenly shouted “Oh! Techno’s tournament! Of course! I wanna see him beat up other people for a change!”

Techno snorted “Really feeling the support here right now, bro.”

“I’m guessing you both are coming too?” Philza was now addressing the other two of his kids.

Both were fast and eager to agree. Wilbur was right. Usually Techno tried sparring with his siblings though using the word sparring was maybe an overstatement. He would mercilessly beat them up and complain they didn’t last long enough. At rare times where all of them were bored enough they would play a game of >Who can last the longest against Techno<. Y/N really wasn’t too big a fan of this game since they ended up being the only one who would address the wounds later including their own since they didn’t trust the others to properly apply a band aid.

From this point on the breakfast was more alive than before. Tommy and Wilbur would constantly ask questions to Techno about who he will be fighting or how everything will work. To which he all just gave a very non-committal “I dunno”.

After they all cleaned up the breakfast table, they got ready and grabbed everything they needed.

The town wasn’t super far away but it was a long enough walk that it would be inconvenient to get back for things you might have forgotten.

Techno grabbed his sword while Wilbur made sure to take his beloved guitar with him. Y/N made sure to grab all kinds of medicine and bandages with them. They knew Techno will get treated at the tournament should he get hurt but they felt better if they brought some stuff with them as well. Tommy on the other hand made sure to grab all kinds of things including a few pages of paper, pens, string and more. Philza wanted to just write it down to Tommy probably meeting up with Tubbo in town and doing harmless crafts but the chances were slim.

As they made their way to the tournament and Philza was preaching to them to not cause any trouble since there would be a lot of people there today, Y/N soon noticed how Techno would nervously play around with the hilt of his worn out sword.

They affectionately put their arm around their older brother for a short side hug, including putting their wing around him “You’ll do fine. I know it. Don’t worry too much and just imagine you are beating one of us up.”

Technoblade had to roll his eyes at that “I’ll try to take that advice to heart.”

As they arrived in town the kids looked around in awe. Everywhere were stalls set up selling food or little decorative things or toys. People where weaving in and out between stalls, loudly talking with each other. Laughter and yells filled the air.

In the middle of the town square there was a huge box marked on the ground. This is where the fights would happen. As far as Techno explained the rules were simple. Get your opponent on their back, get them out of the box or beat them unconscious. Tommy was absolutely loving the idea of Techno beating all of his opponents unconscious and said he wouldn’t take any other result as acceptable.

“Alright kiddos. Techno and I have to talk with the organizer. You three can go and have some fun but you have to promise me a few things. Whatever you guys do stay together! Don’t talk to strangers and as soon as the fights start you come over. I will find you then, okay? I will only let you guys go if you agree to this.”

“I can still try to find Tubbo, right?” Tommy asked.

“Of course but only if you all stay together.” He was looking at Wilbur when he said the last part. This meant Wilbur was the boss for today. Well until they met up again with their dad.

Wilbur put his hands on each shoulder of his younger siblings “We will! Don’t worry dad!”

Philza gave them a last nod before walking off. Before Techno followed him he looked at the three “Don’t… cause too much trouble. At least for me so nothing happens to the tournament.” With that Technoblade turned around and followed Philza closely.

“Well, what should we start with?” Y/N asked their brothers.

Tommy threw his arms in the air “Tubbo!”

Wilbur laughed “Alright. We’ll try to find your Tubbo. I’m sure he and his siblings should be around here as well.”

Tubbo was Tommy’s best friend and honestly he hangs around their home so much they almost consider him a family member as well. He had an older sister Puffy and an older brother Schlatt though. They were a curious case. All three of them carried the active Shapeshifter gene and all three begun growing horns, their ears turned into that of goats and they all had the horizontal iris’.

Y/N liked to spend time with Puffy. Just like Y/N Puffy too acted more like a caretaker to her siblings which the two soon bonded over while Schlatt and Wilbur soon hit it off as well. It was actually quite amusing to see them interacting since Wilbur was known for loving art and freedom. Schlatt on the other hand tried to see how he can scam the most people in the most effective manner in the shortest amount of time. Trying to turn in a profit at every turn. You wouldn’t immediately think they would end up being such good friends.

The three were raised by their father as well who everyone just referred to as Captain Sparklez though his real name was Jordan. He coincidentally also helped with setting up this little festival for the town.

Tommy suddenly took a deep breath in as he cupped his hands around his mouth “Tubbo!”

Wilbur furrowed his brows “Tommy, there are a ton of people around here! There is no way he heard you.”

“Tommy! Over here!” a different voice called out, away from all the stalls and people.

Wilbur and Y/N looked surprised while Tommy almost proudly smirked at them. The bond Tommy and Tubbo had was something else.

Together the three ran through the crowd to finally meet up with Tubbo and apparently his siblings. As a greeting Tubbo softly headbutted Tommy while Puffy did the same to Y/N. Schlatt never did this with Wilbur. Said he might have goat like characteristics but he is still more human than goat hence why he didn’t do this whole headbutting thing. It has been a whole ordeal with Wilbur once where he demanded to get a headbutt from Schlatt as well for a greeting. After enough prodding and being a general nuisance Schlatt decided to straight up headbutt him as hard as possible almost knocking him out and gave him a good bruise on his forehead. Wilbur never asked for another headbutt greeting since then.

Y/N gave Puffy an additional hug, making sure to wrap their wings around her as well “I’m glad to see you Puffy!”

“So am I! I heard Techno is taking part in the tournament, isn’t he?”

Schlatt was for some reason cackling at that “Oh I bet he will win, won’t he? This would be the best time for some betting!”

Tommy, Y/N and Wilbur all nodded saying things like “Of course he will win. My brother is the best”

Soon the group begun to fall into their usual banter. Tommy and Tubbo were doing something next to them, only sometimes getting back into the conversation. Schlatt and Wilbur on the other hand were talking about how they could start bets and maybe earn some money because surely Techno will win. Y/N and Puffy listened in only to interject at times to root them back down. Both made sure they wouldn’t end up doing anything too stupid, though they too were in on it and ready to help out.

In the end the whole group was sitting on the ground and writing their plan down on the paper Tommy brought with him as suddenly a loud voice boomed over the crowd announcing that the fighting tournament will soon begin.

Tubbo looked absolutely horrified “No! I didn’t have a chance to check out the candy yet!”

Schaltt sighed and gave Tubbo a reassuring pat on his back “Don’t worry kiddo they will still be here after the tournament.”

With that the group begun walking to the marked place for the fighting. All the while Schlatt was grumbling that this was way too early and he couldn’t act on his betting plans.

“There are a lot of people.” Y/N noted as they came closer to their goal.

Indeed there were a surprising amount of people standing around the place. If it was difficult to get through the crowd before, now it seemed almost impossible. It was almost comical how the crowd seemingly turned into a wall of steel as the announcer begun his speech in order to greet all the people watching.

“Ugh, I can barely see anything.” Wilbur whined as he moved on his toes. Wilbur was the tallest of the group so when he had problems seeing anything Y/N instinctively already gave up. Maybe one day it would be the other way around seeing as they all were still growing but for now this was the reality of the situation.

Tommy was frantically jumping into the air trying to see anything that happened. He didn’t say it but he wanted to make sure to not miss out on any second of Techno’s fights. He was his older brother after all.

“Hey, Schlatt?” Tubbo almost whispered as he tugged at his older brother’s shirt.

Schlatt barely made any proper attempt to look over the crowd probably still busy thinking about his lost business opportunity. He tilted his head down to look at Tubbo “Hm?”

Suddenly Tubbo’s unsure expression turned into a serious one. While Wilbur, Tommy and Y/N were confused about this, Puffy begun to snicker.

“Aw, come on!” Schlatt drawled out but as soon as Tubbo got his pouting face out it was over for him.

He rolled his eyes and knelt down. With the help of Puffy, Tubbo was soon sitting on Schlatt’s shoulders, overlooking the crowd.

For some reason Tommy looked absolutely betrayed “This is unfair!”

“And why is that?” was all that Tubbo asked smugly. He was grabbing onto Schlatt’s horns which lead to him involuntarily yanking around his head whenever Tubbo himself moved around. Annoyed Schlatt gave his younger brother a playful slap on his arm as a sign to knock it off.

Tommy crossed his arms “Hey, Wilby! Wait no, I’m not a child anymore.”

Before Wilbur could even do his obligatory cooing whenever Tommy used his nickname or before Y/N could remind him that he was indeed still a child and younger than Tubbo he turned towards them instead.

“Y/N! You carry me and fly up that is way cooler than sitting on someone’s shoulders like some two year old.”

This took Y/N quite by surprise “What?”

“Dad said you are ready to fly and you spent like most of your free time already gliding or flying about so like basically the same thing right?”

“No! This is completely different! Besides I’m pretty sure my wings right now are barely able to carry my own weight! To that I have no idea how to take off from ground!”

Tommy’s bottom lip begun to quiver. Both Wilbur and Y/N knew it was fake but it was still a weakness for the two.

Y/N tried grabbing Wilbur’s sleeve for support but he was already looking at them with sad eyes himself “I mean Tommy just wants to see his big brother win, which is understandable right? At least worth a try?”

It was Y/N’s time to look betrayed but their expression soon got exchange by that one of defeat “One… One try. If that doesn’t work out I will give up.”

So the group walked back away from the crowd to have more space, Tubbo still happily sitting on Schlatt’s shoulders. He looked annoyed but Puffy knew that he was just as happy as she was that Tubbo had obviously a good time.

Y/N would spent a few minutes just trying to take off the ground on their own saying that they would first need to be a bit in the air before being able to grab Tommy. Wilbur was just watching with an amused smile on his face. Oh he was almost certain how this will end in disaster but he was just too curious to see how exactly.

After multiple running starts Y/N managed to get a few feet off into the air, flying directly towards Tommy so they could pick him up. They more or less bodychecked into their younger brother but still managed to pick him up and for a short moment it looked like the two were indeed a few feet above the height of the crowd.

Tommy was screaming partially out of fear but partially out of excitement. Y/N was so concentrated on flying and holding onto Tommy they didn’t even try to look out for Techno on the ground. They stayed semi stable in the air for good two seconds before both suddenly noticed they were losing altitude rapidly.

Now both were screaming as Y/N desperately tried to glide towards the hay bails that the town put up as decoration but with the added weight of Tommy they still plummeted towards the ground pretty fast.

The next thing Y/N remembers was that they were surrounded by hay and that their whole body was feeling heavy and sore. Tommy was groaning as he tried his best to get out of the hay and off their sibling while Y/N first made sure to calmly fold their wings back against their back as they slowly got out of the hay as well.

Suddenly two strong hands grabbed the still disoriented Y/N and helped them properly back to their feet only to be met by an angry looking Philza.

“What on Ender were you thinking?”

“Oh hey dad!” Y/N croaked out as they avoided any eye contact with him. Instead they were busy plucking hay out of their wings. Due to the fall there was a lot of hay trapped between feathers, there were also a few bent feathers that felt uncomfortable at best.

Tommy was sheepishly standing next to them also avoiding eye contact.

“I told you to get to the tournament and wait for me! I told you guys I would make sure to find you so why did you do whatever the hell you just did?” Philza rambled off.

“Yeah guys why did you two do that?” Wilbur was now approaching his family as well, including their other three friends who followed suit.

Y/N let go of their wing as they turned towards their older brother with an angry frown “You encouraged us! Don’t act like you are the only innocent person here! Aren’t you as our big brother supposed to stop us or something when we are stupid?”

Philza sighed “Okay, we deal with this later but at least tell me why?”

“We wanted to see Techno but we couldn’t get past the crowd!” Tommy answered.

“My fights will only start in like half an hour dude. Didn’t you guys listen to the announcements?”

To their surprise Technoblade appeared from behind Philza. He looked bored but still had a somewhat smug smile on his face. Who wouldn’t feel a tiny big smug when your younger siblings gets into trouble with dad for something that was absolutely their fault and you were luckily this time no part of it.

“You three are in trouble! We will go back so Techno won’t be too late for when it’s his turn but once we are back home it’s three weeks of chores for all of you.”

This earned him a murmur of “Okay, dad.” And “But we didn’t do anything bad!”

After that the day ended up pretty normally. They had their trouble for the day so they continued on with following Philza back to the tournament place. He made sure that all the kids had the best places in front so they could watch as Techno absolutely destroyed the other kids.

Jordan joined them as well. Philza didn’t spend any time waiting on telling him how Y/N and Tommy crashed into one of his decorations. He wasn’t angry but did chew out his own kids a little bit for not even attempting to stop them.

For some reason this was the day Y/N always fondly thought back on. They got into their typical trouble that day but also spend a ton of time with their family and friends back in their hometown. Enjoying seeing Techno beat others up and of course winning the tournament to which then Phil and Jordan bought the kids a ton of candy from the stalls.

Yes, they loved their family so dearly and would do anything for them.

So when a letter arrived from Wilbur that informed them that a few days ago a friend betrayed him which led to him losing his first life of three as well for Tommy, Tubbo and their nephew Fundy it felt like their heart got ripped out of their chest.

Y/N was still living at their old childhood home with Philza but both were only rarely at home. The two traveled around the world independently from each other using the old cottage as a place to rest in between. Wilbur probably addressed the letter knowing that this was the most reliable way to contact his family.

Reaching Technoblade who was training out of country was almost impossible at this point in time.

Y/N got out a piece of paper and wrote a letter for their father.

“Dad, I’m going to visit Wil and Tommy. Love, Y/N”

This was all that needed to be said.

They put the letter including the letter from Wilbur visibly on the table so Philza would see it as soon as he got back home. They did this sometimes in order to talk to Philza as well as the other way around so both were always looking out for messages on the table once they got back home.

Y/N grabbed their old netherite sword they got way back from Techno as a gift and begun thinking about what to take with them for the flight towards L’Manberg. If they fly it would only take a few days to reach the place but they also couldn’t carry a lot of things with them.

“Hell of a reason to visit your family after a long time, huh.”

[pride-moth]

You got everything that I want

Ao3 Link

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him. 

He had loved Stella at some point, in his own weird way. Yes, it was an arranged marriage, but he had been willing to make it work like so many royal couples had made it work before them. He admired her beauty, her strength, her force of personality. He wanted to love her and so he did. He loved her as his wife, his princess, the mother to their daughter. He really… He had tried, at one point.

But after years and years of trying and compromising and acquiescing to your partner’s every wish without ever feeling them try in turn. Getting up every night to care for the child that both of you put into the world but that only one of you really cares to pay any meaningful attention to… It gets tiring and slowly, surely, all the love you once had for your partner slips through your fingers until there’s nothing left. Nothing but regret and screaming and pain.

He loves Octavia so, so fiercely. He would do anything for her, and yet he can hardly seem to be able to make her smile. And that’s the greatest pain. When you want nothing more than to see your child happy and you would do anything to make it happen, but it’s not in your hands anymore. Octavia is still a teenager but she’s growing up, wanting to do her own thing, starting to live her own life and Stolas feels like the only thing that he could do to make her happy would be to stop fighting with Stella, and that is just not within his powers. Stella will always find something to blame him for and he will always find something new to do wrong. 

When Blitzo enters the picture, he and Stella already haven’t been sleeping in the same bed longer than he cares to remember. It’s a night of weakness, that first one, one where all he wants is to not live his own life anymore and Blitzo, that handsome little imp, catches him off guard, pokes right into his vulnerabilities and Stolas can’t help but take him home, sneak him in and let himself be taken apart in a way he has never experienced.  

It’s a magical night, not romantic, but raw and rough and brutal in the best way. Blitzo makes him hurt exactly how he likes to hurt, gives him the kind of pleasure he could never quite convince Stella into giving him. They don’t even know each other at that point, but there is the kind blind understanding between them that Stolas always wanted to happen between him and Stella, but it never did.

Stolas is almost grateful when he realizes Blitzo has taken his grimoire with him. It’s an easy reason to stay in contact, an easy excuse to call him, set meetings, work out an exchange and get more of what Blitzo gave him that first night. 

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas. 

He enjoys Blitzo’s company in general. He’s funny, quick-witted, intelligent and he handles him with an ease that in any other situation would be seen as lèse-majesté for an imp. And maybe that’s what appeals to Stolas about spending time with Blitzo. That he can be himself, doesn’t have to adhere to the vague behavioral standards of royal life. He can be vulgar around him, and a blubbering mess sometimes, Blitzo doesn’t mind him being angry or frustrated or stupid, he can just… Be. 

So, sometimes he’ll find an excuse to spend time with Blitzo outside of the bedroom. To just be. Because it doesn’t affect their normal arrangement and it’s better than spending time alone in that grand, beautiful, empty palace with a wife who wants his head chopped off and a daughter who makes him responsible for it. Maybe he is responsible for it, he thinks, but that doesn’t change anything, does it?

When he takes Octavia to Loo Loo Land, he wants Blitzo there as his bodyguard, not because he necessarily needs protection, but just because… He wants him there. Around. As company. Because Blitzo is good like that. And he likes watching him fully in his element because Blitzo handles his rifle with the same deft touch and confidence as he handles Stolas and that’s beautiful in a way. 

When Octavia tells them to get a room, it throws him off a little because he didn’t mean to get carried away like that. He truly wanted it to be a father-daughter day, Blitzo and his employees and incidental part of the equation, but he can’t really take his eyes off Blitzo when he’s being all professional and handsome and, God, maybe this was a bad idea to begin with. 

That day ends with him finding Octavia crying and she asks if he wants to run off with Blitzo and that’s… Well, he can’t fault her for getting the wrong idea. Obviously she doesn’t know that it’s just sex between them. She’s just met a man who Stolas is very clearly flirting with constantly, so obviously that would look romantic. But he would never run off with him, it’s not like that. There’s no love between them, only a deal, good sex and good company. 

There’s a little thought spinning around in his head after the whole Loo Loo Land incident that he doesn’t dare act upon for a good while, but it persists. All he needed to do to convince Blitzo to come with him was offer him money. So, maybe, just maybe, if he found himself desiring his company outside of their arrangement, he could just… 

“I’m not a hooker,” Blitzo says sharply when he tries it one day during a phone call. 

“But I usually pay you by letting you use the book,” Stolas tries, not entirely sure why he tries breaking through the metaphorical door that has just been quite clearly slammed shut right in front of face. 

“That’s different! That’s-” Blitzo lets out a frustrated sigh at the end of the line. “Just don’t try that.” 

“But-” 

“Shut it, Stolas, I said no. Just because you’re a Prince or whatever doesn’t mean you can get everything you want by waving some money around.” 

It stings a little, that comment. He didn’t mean to… He didn’t attempt to… Maybe he did. Blitzo said no, so that’s that. No reason to get hung up about it. So, he won’t see him before the full moon. That’s okay. No pain, not about Blitzo. And if he needs to exert some force to make a smile appear on his face, that’s just because he can hear Stella throwing utensils in the kitchen again. 

“No trouble at all, I didn’t mean to offend, my dear Blitzy. See you next full moon,” he says then in his usual blib tone. 

Blitzo hangs up on him after mumbling something about offending his asshole. 

Sometime after that, Blitzo starts sharing cigarettes with him. It’s a little thing that he doesn’t think much of the first time it happens. Blitzo just kind of offers it to him one time, wordlessly and Stolas takes it and that’s that. It’s a little gesture of familiarity that neither of them comment on, but they keep doing it from then on. He starts buying the good expensive cigarettes and keeping them in the nightstand just for that little ritual.

Stolas would never admit to himself that he has a little cruel streak. “Friendly” is his default mode of presentation even if that sometimes gets him weird looks, it being hell and all. But he still grew up here, he still knows how the game is played and he still knows how to hit people where it hurts. 

So, when Stella keeps yelling at him not just about how he cheated on her, though that certainly seems to be some part of her grievance with him, not about how he’s brought the false harmony of their home into jeopardy, not about how their daughter feels about the whole thing, but about how it looks bad that he’s having sex with an imp, how that’s undignified. 

“Should I have used one of your fancy dinner party friends instead?!” he yells back at her one day and she just throws another saucer at him.

“At least that would have been a proper magazine scandal instead of the semi-public embarrassment I got!” 

And that’s where he can’t handle it anymore. He leaves her alone in the kitchen to scream at the walls because frankly, what left is there to say? She wants a magazine scandal, huh? Sure. She can have a magazine scandal. 

Stolas feels nervous when he has to ask Blitzo to come over early, but to his surprise, it’s no problem at all. 

“Is that in addition to our regularly scheduled fucking or a substitute?” is the only question he asks and when Stolas answers, “Substitute” he’s happy with it. 

It’s one of their best nights yet, Blitzo ties him up so good he can’t move an inch and he fucks him and he teases him with a passion that feels entirely new. Blitzo usually isn’t one to tease, he likes getting to the point, but tonight is different, tonight he takes his time and Stolas is pudding in his fingers. 

There’s warmth afterwards, just everywhere. His entire body feels warm and muted and content. And for just a moment, there is pain. And normally he can just wish it away, replace it with excitement for the next time they meet, but this time, he feels the distinct pain of not being able to experience this kind of pleasure whenever he wants. He wants to feel exactly like this, warm and exhausted and content, all the time. But he can’t.

It takes real force this time, but he shoves the thought away. He can focus on getting Stella the big scandal she so craves, and he can kill two birds with one stone here. Not literally.

He invites Blitzo to the Harvest Moon Festival. That’s easy enough, get them out together, have him and Blitzo be in one place together in public. That’s both step one of his barely thought out plan and also another way to spend time with Blitzo which is something he needs desperately. Anything to get him out of this palace, out of the endless screaming matches with his wife. 

And then, he makes it his personal goal to be as obnoxious as possible. Blitzo calls him obnoxious all the time, that’s nothing new, but he can do one better, make sure everyone knows what they’re doing, knows exactly that the great Prince of Hell is consorting with an imp. He wants Stella to look at media coverage of the Harvest Moon Festival and be absolutely furious about it. She wanted this. 

And it’s genuinely exciting, too, watching Blitzo compete in the Games, dominating the competition except for that weird snake man who he eventually shares a title with. Truth is, Stolas doesn’t really need to try very hard to cheer Blitzo on, part of him wants to just shout from the mountaintops how cool and powerful and handsome he is and how well he’s doing. 

To his disappointment, he can’t catch Blitzo after the festival. He’s suddenly gone after the trophy ceremony and is nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day. He leaves him a suggestive voicemail, saying he would love to see Blitzo as soon as possible, but if Blitzo doesn’t feel like it, he’s simply looking forward to the next full moon. 

He learns only via Stella’s highly unsubtle phone calls at the dinner table that there was an attempt on life that day. He doesn’t know for sure, Blitzo hasn’t told him, but he suspects that his little imp probably had something to do with it not succeeding and that’s just delicious, isn’t it? That the reason for Stella’s wrath would be the one to thwart her plans? He smiles at himself.  

It’s a week later that Blitzo appears on his balcony without a warning one night, sweating and nervous and completely unlike himself. Stolas practically jumps up from his bed and rushes over to him, pulling him into a hug almost automatically. To his surprise, Blitzo allows it. 

“What’s going on, Blitzy?” he asks softly. 

Blitzo takes a shaky breath and Stolas notices several bruises on his arms. “I just… I needed to… You’re okay.” It comes out shaky and incoherent but Stolas only hugs him tighter. “You’re kind of squeezing me to death,” Blitzo croaks then and lets out a small groan that makes him sound a bit more like himself. 

Stolas lets a bit looser. “Come in, tell me what happened, I’ll call for some tea,” he says as he leads Blitzo inside. 

Blitzo chuckles joylessly. “It’s insane how different shit is for you, you know that? You can just ask for tea and someone will bring it to you. Anything you lift your own finger for, you do of your own volition. Nobody makes you do anything. Unimaginable.” 

Stolas doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s true, kind of self-evidently so. He hasn’t even taken up the house phone yet and a servant is already knocking at the door to offer tea. He takes with a curt “thank you” and hands Blitzo his cup. Slowly they sit down on the bed, arms resting against each other comfortably. 

“You know they’re just like me, right? The servants you order around here all day?” Blitzo’s voice sounds hollow, distant. It’s disconcerting to say the least. 

“Well, I suppose you’re all imps, but you… you’re special.” 

“What if I don’t want to be? What if I want to be just like everyone else and just be… left alone with all the bullshit that comes with being ‘special’? What if I don’t want other assassins to come and try to talk me out of my job and how I do it, what if I don’t want to be the ‘only good one’ for people who’d just trample all over me if they hadn’t randomly decided that I was special, what if…” 

“Blitzy, what’s going on? Do you not want to come here anymore? We can… We can stop if you want to. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to, I can just leave you the book and you give it back when I need it and-” 

“Goddammit, Stolas, that’s not it, I just… Striker just came to my office and he just doesn’t leave me alone and we fought and he… Stolas, he won’t stop before he has your head and I can’t… I can’t guarantee that I can always be there to stop him.” Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, he just keeps staring directly into his tea cup. 

“Oh, Blitzy, it’ll all work itself out, everything will be okay,” Stolas says softly, tenderly caressing Blitzo’s back, but his hand quickly slapped away. 

“Are you actually serious right now?!” Blitzo looks at him now, angry, yes, but also very obviously hurt. “This guy is after you. And he’s good. I’ve stopped him once, I’ll do it again, but what if he comes here while I’m in the living world? What if I’m caught in some argument with Moxxie?”

“You don’t have to look after me, Blitzy, I’ll be okay, I promise.” Stolas takes a deep breath then, unsure of his next words. “Plus, if I wasn’t here anymore, you could just take my grimoire and run, isn’t that what you want?” 

Blitzo just stares at him, one, two, three seconds. “It sure would be easier,” he says then, pensively, “But I- Well. It’s just that… You know how it is, I don’t want to be responsible for the whole power vacuum that would come with your death and it’s not my style… I don’t know, I just don’t want you dead.” 

Stolas can’t help but smile at him. “Oh, Blitzy, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

And finally Bitzo laughs again. Stolas so loves seeing him laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve also told you that you’re my pretty little bitch and you have a nice dick and beautiful tight little asshole and you’re probably the only really good sub I’ve ever had.” 

Stolas pulls him into his arms, letting Blitzo lean against him and rests his chin on one of his horns. “I’m not going to die, Blitzy, not as long as you’re here. I would never forgive myself if I left you alone. I promise you, I… I can look after myself.” 

Blitzo sighs. He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but ultimately stays silent. 

They just sit there for minutes, silently embracing and Stolas doesn’t know what to do with that. It hurts. It hurts to hold Blitzo like that, to see him vulnerable and worried for him. It feels good to be with him, to have him be here. It’s warm and familiar and it feels natural, but it’s so, so painful. 

“Blitzy?” Stolas breaks the silence finally. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” 

Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, but he nods. “I know where this is going,” he says, half-ironically but there’s no bite to it tonight. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Stolas whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

“Please, you’ve been head over heels in love with me since we first met,” Blitzo retorts but there’s no bite to it. It’s less a brag or a dig than a simple observation. 

“I didn’t mean to, I just… I don’t want it to be like this, we have a good thing here and I don’t… I don’t want to make it all complicated and painful.” 

Blitzo sighs again, but it’s a soft little sound, punctuated with a little laugh. “Stolas, you’re Goetic royalty doing completely shameless BDSM shit with an imp, it’s already complicated and painful.” 

“No, I mean-” he looks at one of the paintings of him and Stella and Octavia, Blitzo follows his gaze, “I don’t want it to hurt like this again. Love always… It always hurts.” 

 Blitzo shrugs. “I don’t think it does. Fights and drifting apart and break ups hurt. Love itself can be fun. It’s just… hard sometimes.” 

Stolas supposes that’s true. But still, is it really worth starting something when you know the end is inevitably going to be painful? And how would that even work, between them? Sure, teasing the press with an affair is one thing, but he can’t make it official. That would go beyond the realms of gossip and annoying his wife. That could potentially jeopardize his entire position and- 

“Christ, you’re overthinking like crazy right now, I can practically hear you,” Blitzo breaks his train of thought. “Nothing has to change here. We have sex, we hang out sometimes, we do movie nights, I know your daughter, we’re already in more of a relationship than you and your wife.” 

And that strikes Stolas like lightning. “You-? You feel the same?” he asks in utter disbelief. 

“You stupid fucking bird, of course I do: You think I would have passed up and opportunity to get the book without fucking you otherwise?” 

“I mean, yes, you could have just saved my life as a friend, I suppose.”

Blitzo shakes his head and grins at him. “I usually don’t fuck my friends. Nine times out of ten, I would like to, sure, but I still usually don’t. And, I sure as fuck didn’t want that either, but here we are and I literally gunned it from Imp City to here just to make sure you were still alive after I beat up Striker again and I… I think this,” he gestures between them, “is good. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever tolerated anyone that long, so… Count yourself lucky.”

Stolas smiles, as wide as he can and then he kisses him, tenderly, softly, chastely, like they never do and that seals it in a way. And for the first time in centuries, he doesn’t think about the pain that love can bring, he just thinks that holding Blitzo in his arms and kissing him feels good and he wants to keep feeling that good, so all the pain along the way, all the shit they might get into for it, might be worth it, in the end. So he pulls Blitzo a bit closer and deepens their kiss, losing himself completely in the warmth between them. 

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 11- Qualifiers

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Masterlist Kofi

The moment right before the start of the sports festival is shockingly nerve-wracking. Each step through the tunnels, closer to the main field of the arena, fills you with more dread and excitement and anticipation. You keep your head raised high, wearing your UA gym uniform proudly as the roaring of the crowd starts to meet your ears. With Bakugo on your right and Kirishima on your left, you almost feel invincible. This is your chance, your opportunity, to show everyone what you’re capable of and show all of Japan that you refuse to be defined by your father’s tainted legacy. Present Mic’s voice booms over the speakers, his grinning face plastered across the monitors as you finally step out onto the field, astroturf crunching beneath your feet as he sings the praises of hero course class 3A. The crowd’s enthusiastic cheering is addictive. You make a point to soak it in while you can. Right now each and every one of them see you as a hero. While some of the students lamented not being able to wear their costumes for the event, you were secretly glad for it. The uniform made you a generic UA student; for now, unburdened by the past.

“This never gets old,” Kirishima grins next to you as you all step into the central area and the other classes begin to filter out into the coliseum as well. A few of them grumble, giving the hero classes jaded looks, but even their ire cannot dampen the overall atmosphere. You instinctively find yourself seeking out a familiar pair of heterochromatic eyes, eventually finding them next to Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka. You can’t help the way your heart trips over itself when you lock eyes with Shoto. Memories of the night before and of waking up in his arms float to the forefront of your mind and you scowl before shaking your head to physically dispel the image from your mind. You turn away from him, missing the hurt that flashes across his eyes. He redirects his attention back to Principal Nezu, chief umpire as usual for the third years. “Now Shoto Todoroki will give the class pledge,” Nezu announces before ceding the floor.

The school had made the executive decision not to let Bakugo give the pledge after that first year. Midoriya had nearly passed out when it was his turn second year (as much as he has grown, public speaking still isn’t quite his forte). This made Todoroki the obvious choice for this year’s class pledge. As he approaches the mic he can’t help but think of Bakugo’s first speech. He remembers Midoriya telling him later the apparent narcissistic declaration that Bakugo had made to be number one had actually been to box himself into a corner to make sure he followed through. The more he thinks on it the more Shoto relates to that desire. His eyes scan the crowd until he spots his father amongst the rest. He makes sure to make direct eye contact, his eyes boring into his father’s as he leans down to speak into the mic. “I pledge... that we will create a new legacy of our own and destroy legacies of old,” he says confidently. He thinks he sees a flash of hurt and disappointment in Endeavor’s eyes even from the great distance between them. He turns to stride down the stairs of the stage and he can’t help but seek you out amongst the crowd of fellow students, hoping you got the message.

You tense a bit as your heart skips another beat. That boy is going to give you heart palpitations. Bakugo nudges you harshly in the side, causing you to jerk your head to scowl at him. “You good, nerd?” he asks, concern softening his usual bite a fraction. “I’m great. Ready to start kicking ass,” you reply, pushing down all your Shoto-related feelings for examination later. “Good,” is all Bakugo replies before his attention returns to Nezu. You can’t help but smile a little at Bakugo’s concern. He’s a surprisingly good friend and you’re grateful Kirishima introduced the two of you. When the direct elimination round comes around you’ll be merciless, but you have full confidence the two of you will make it through the qualifiers and you know the two of you and Kirishima will make for a great team for whatever the second round will be. “Don’t forget loser. I better see you on the fucking podium,” you remind him with a smirk. “You ain’t gotta worry about me idiot. Worry about yourself,” he replies although there’s no heat behind the words and he’s smirking just as much as you.

As the first game is announced you resolve yourself to staying middle of the pack for now. You don’t want to draw too much attention and let everyone discover your identity too quickly. You’re keenly aware that the second round is almost always a team event and without knowing how many people will be on a team, you can’t rely on Bakugo and Kirishima. Furthermore, any team you’re on would only become a target. Bakugo would kill you if he knew you have no intentions of trying your all in the qualifying round of course but you have to be strategic. No one pays much attention to the lower ranks from round 1, it’ll be easier to slip under the radar. Then, in round 2, you’ll kick it up a notch to prove your worth. At that point winning will become the only important matter. Creating a new legacy while destroying the old, as Shoto put it.

So that’s exactly what you do. The first game is a so called “Tower of Terror” that had been constructed in the preceding weeks. The task is simple enough in theory: scale the tower, cross from there to the ramp connected to the stadium, and return to the field. Only rule is that falling off the tower entirely is an immediate elimination. The amount of people being promoted out of the qualifying round is, as usual, a secret but you do the math to get a good idea of how many would optimally be removed and think you have a good estimate to ensure you’ll remain relatively anonymous. Your strategy pays off and you finish in the 30s out of the approximately 50 who qualify. As you finish your slide down the ramp, glowing faintly as you heal the minor injuries you’ve collected, a fuming Bakugo is storming up to you and you roll your eyes.

“The fuck you doing half and half?” he demands as you dust yourself off. “None of your goddamn business Pomeranian,” you fire back. “What happened to trying to be the best huh? Didn’t think you were one for dirty tricks,” he accuses. You feel your temper starting to genuinely flare at that comment. “I’m not pulling dirty tricks I’m trying to survive asshole. Not all of us can afford to be showy right out the gate,” you seethe. “I didn’t take you for a coward.” “I didn’t take you for an idiot.” “Say that shit again and I’ll blast you out the fucking stadium.” “I’d like to see you fucking try.” Both of you grip hold of the front of each other’s shirts, your right hand raised as your quirk makes shadows pool in it and one of his hands raised already popping off explosions. Before either of you can draw more attention to yourselves or actually act on your anger, you’re frozen in place. Literally. “All that work you did to keep your identity under wraps will be for nothing if Present Mic or Nezu comment about you and Bakugo fighting between games. Especially if they decide to disqualify you over it,” Shoto says as he approaches the both of you before melting the ice keeping you and Bakugo from pummeling each other. “I don’t recall fucking asking you,” you spit back, whirring to face your former friend. “I’m only trying to help,” Shoto responds placatingly but it’s too late to quell your anger. “Well fucking stop trying to,” you tell him before storming off. You need to focus on the next event anyway and not stupid Shoto with his stupid face and his stupid need to stick his nose in your fucking business.

The second event is...

Rough.

To say the least.

You and Bakugo were still too pissed at each other to make a proper team so you’d ended up with Yaoyorozu, Denki, and Sero. You admired their quirks and objectively they were strong, but it wasn’t exactly a perfectly complementary combination of skills. Each member of the team was given a target they were required to protect, almost exactly like the provisional licensing exam held during your first year, except with one major twist. Every member of your team was linked together by a short leash attached to their wrists. Last four teams standing would advance to the finals. Without his costume or support items to help direct his lightning Denki’s quirk was difficult to utilize without risking stunning the entire team. Sero’s quirk was more useful but the placement of the leash made it difficult for him to use it without tugging around the hands of the teammates on either side of him. You and Yaoyorozu, the only two whose quirks weren’t actively impeded, struggled to compensate for the other two and coordinate your actions. In the end, the four of you had barely qualified, leaving you frustrated.

So much for crafting a new legacy.

As Present Mic gleefully announces that the teams of Midoriya, Bakugo, Monoma, and Yaoyorozu will be moving on, a picture of all those advancing flashing on the monitors, you can’t help but sink deeper and deeper into regret and frustration. The others head to the cafeteria as the lunch break is announced but you storm off in the opposite direction in hopes of getting an opportunity to cool off and clear your head before the break ends and the next game begins. The universe, however, seems to have other plans because instead you crash into another, much larger body. As you look up your apology shrivels up and dies on your tongue as you find yourself staring into the eyes of the only man who inspires similar ire in you as your father does.

Enji Todoroki aka Endeavor aka the (second) largest tool in the entirety of Japan.

“Where are you sneaking off to?” he asks, making no attempt to mask his suspicion of you. “None of your fucking business,” you retort. You move to step around him but he quickly steps back in front of you. “The cafeteria is the opposite direction,” Endeavor informs you. “Gee thanks, I had no idea even though I literally go to this fucking school,” you reply, each word dripping with sarcasm. “Then what could possibly have you traveling this direction instead?” “Like I said. None of your fucking business.” “Your suspicious behavior is my business. I made a mistake with a (y/l/n) before, I won’t make one again,” Endeavor swears and you reel back almost as if struck. “I am not my father,” you spit out. Your quirk activates unbidden in response to your anger, black shadows curling out of your clenched right hand and forearm. “Sure looks like it to me,” Endeavor scoffs, looking pointedly at the shadowy tendrils rising out of the right side of your body. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice asks from behind you and you wish the earth would swallow you up. Shoto steps around and in front of you, taking up an almost protective stance between you and his father. “Shoto step aside and-“ “No,” Shoto insists, staring down his father in challenge. He and Endeavor’s gazes stay locked in a silent argument, neither willing to back down, so you take the opportunity while they’re both distracted to slip away. You make it to about halfway down the hallway when a hand catches your shoulder. You whirl around knocking it away to find Shoto there looking genuinely stunned at your hostility. “Jesus christ will you fuck off!” you snap at him and maybe it isn’t fair but you’re frustrated and angry and you fought with one of your best friends and you’ve barely squeaked through each round so far and the last thing you are mentally or emotionally prepared to do is confront your increasingly complex thoughts on Shoto fucking Todoroki whose father just all but accused you of attempting to sabotage the competition.

“Hey I just wanted to check on you,” he says and for some reason, the show of compassion only pisses you off even more. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” you demand. “Please (y/n) I-“ he tries to say, clearly confused by your rage. You know most of your anger is actually directed inwards and not at him but you don’t care. “I get that you are trying to grow as a person or whatever and pity me because you were a complete and utter dickhead a decade ago but I don’t want your fucking pity friendship so leave me the fuck alone Icyhot,” you spit with all the venom you can muster before promptly spinning around and continuing your path down the hallway, leaving a stunned Shoto behind.

No one needs to know that you’ve already started crying before you’ve even turned the corner away from him.

A/N: Oh you thought the good feelings from last chapter would last? Nah, have some angst 🙃

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @mindofess @todoplusultra @oliviasslut

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 13: I Would Know Him of High-Flying Birds is up! The boys’ reunion in Skyros, from Achilles’ POV :)

Read here or on AO3! Read from the beginning

The white fabric of Achilles’ dress snapped around his ankles, and the petals on the flowers of the garland around his neck rustled as the wind blew over the plains and jagged hills of Skyros. It whipped up the dust of the long and narrow track field that had been prepared in Poseidon's honour, sending it flying in swirls above the ground.

The celebrations had been going on for most of the day, with prayers and sacrifices to the god. The priests were now burning leaves in the lit braziers by the temple, and blessing each runner that would take part in the race. Young boys, no older than Achilles himself, their dark skin gleaming with oil, their hair oiled and bound; they all knelt before the priests now, waiting to be blessed with the god’s favour.

Achilles envied them. It wasn’t too long ago that he, too, was competing in festivals like these. The thrill of his victories had always been exhilarating, even when anticipated. Yet now he was watching from the sidelines, standing amongst the maidens, concealed under layer upon layer of fabric. Other men, lesser than he, had a chance at competing, at showing their worth, while he was safely hidden from view.

The acid thought did nothing to improve his mood, and the day was still young.

The sun hung bright and hot in the middle of the sky, while the priests still said their prayers. Sweat had started to bead on Achilles’ forehead, despite the chill breeze that was blowing. The maidens were supposed to dance in honour of Poseidon after the trials were over, but Achilles had already had enough. As soon as the race started, and the sound of the runners’ feet tapping the hard packed ground mingled with the music from the lyre and the cymbals, he slipped away, unnoticed.

The shade underneath the thicket of pine trees surrounding the stadium was thick and cool, and the cliff beyond that was empty and quiet, overlooking the Aegean that glittered blue and gold in the distance. He pulled the scarf from his hair with a sigh, and let the breeze comb through his hair. It brought with it the scent of saltwater, of fir and pine, of wet sand. It was a scent Achilles had come to know well, in the months he had stayed in Skyros.

It was almost months now. While he had been on the island, the moon had already waned and waxed once, and was slowly moving through the next cycle. Close to two months that he had spent there, without Patroclus.  

The days flowed by in a never ending stream, the one blending into the next until he couldn’t tell them apart. His daily activities felt like chores to him. The walls of the palace were a prison, his women’s clothes the ropes that tied him there. His appetite was all but gone, and it was becoming harder and harder to find the will to join the girls each morning, knowing that Deidameia would be among them.  

He was wasting away.

The realisation left a sour taste in his mouth, a bitterness that was steadily boiling within him, seeping into his bones. The war chiefs of the Greeks would all have gathered in Mycenae now. Perhaps they had already set off for Troy with their armies, while he was there, dressed in women’s clothes and pretending like he had no worries other than spinning wool and practicing his dancing. They would all talk about him, wonder where he was. They would talk amongst themselves, about the one that was born to be the greatest warrior, the one destined for battle and glory unmatched by any hero who had ever lived, yet when glory had called, he was absent.

Achilles had come to terms with that. He had. He had accepted it, because to go there would mean taking Patroclus with him, placing him in danger, having him fight in a war he did not care for. It just wasn’t time yet; Patroclus wasn’t ready, and neither was he. There will still be wars to be fought, his mother kept telling him, and Achilles believed her. He would have a chance to claim his birthright, when the time was right. Both for him, and Patroclus. And for now, they would both be safe, away from it all, together.  

And yet.

They were not together. Months had passed, and Patroclus still hadn’t come.

The thought was poison, eating away at his insides. His mother had promised, she had given him her word that she would tell Patroclus where he was. Yet the days kept flowing by, and Patroclus hadn’t arrived. His mother would have kept her end of the bargain, he was sure, but for all of Achilles’ wishing and hoping and waiting, no ship had reached the small bay below the palace.

What if something had happened to him on his journey? What if he’d been hurt, or worse, while trying to reach him?

Achilles’ hands tightened were they rested on his forearms, stomach twisting with unease. Patroclus would come. Achilles was sure of it. He was well, and he would come, and they would be together once more. No other possibility could exist within Achilles’ mind, there was no place for anything else. Patroclus would come because… because he had to.

It was a childish notion, yet Achilles felt no shame for thinking it. They were meant to be together. After Patroclus came, nothing would ever come between them, ever again. Achilles would make sure of it this time.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him tense. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Pyrrha,” Deidameia said quietly. Almost timidly. She had been that way around him ever since… that night. Achilles did not want to think of it as more than ‘that night’. It was enough to remember it had happened at all.

His fingers balled into fists, and he forced himself to relax them. “You don’t have to call me that here,” he replied. “There is no one around to hear.”

She came to stand beside him, her footsteps muffled by the dry grass beneath her feet. She looked out into the sea, and the languidly moving shadows from the canopy of leaves overhead carved harsh lines across her features, hiding her expression from him.

Achilles looked away, blocking her from his vision.

“It never hurts to be cautious," she said. "Does it?”

Achilles made no reply. Deidameia took in a breath, then slowly let it out. At times, it seemed to Achilles like she held back her words when he was around. Her behaviour around him had changed. She was no longer pouting and stomping her feet when something displeased her, nor did she laugh and jest with him, or ask to braid his hair. She would sit quietly beside him and listen when he played the lyre, but her dark eyes had a forlorn look in them now, like he was far away from her even though he was right there. When they spoke, their conversations were short and tense, hanging in midtones.

Deidameia had changed, that was sure. But then again, so had he. It was a new and unfamiliar thing for him, this uneasiness that spread within him whenever she was near. He would look at her hands, and remember how small they had looked when illuminated by the shifting light of the candle in his room, how cold they had felt when they had been on him. She would practice her dancing, and he couldn't help but remember how she had looked when she had slipped free of her nightgown and lain beside him on his bed. She was small and thin like a child beneath the layers of fabric of her dress, fragile like a doll. Achilles had been scared to touch her, at first. She had insisted he hadn’t hurt her, though he was quite certain he had. He had seen how her brow had furrowed, how her teeth had left marks on her lips when she’d bitten down on them, how she had held her breath. She could not have liked it.

But then again, neither had he.

“You’re so quiet these days, Pyrrha,” Deidameia said shyly beside him. She was fidgeting with the flowers on her garland, picking at the velvet petals.

“So are you.”

She glanced up at him, surprised. She averted her gaze when their eyes met, her cheeks growing a flushed pink. “Yes, but…” She worried her lip, “You hardly speak to me anymore.”

“Only fools speak when they have nothing to say.”

Achilles hadn’t meant for his words to smart, but Deidameia winced as if he’d cut her with a whetted blade. She turned away from him, her small hands balling into fists at her sides. “I am your wife,” she said with a trembling voice. “Who will you speak to, if not to me?”

You are not my wife, Achilles almost said, yet knew the words to be untrue. He had agreed to be her husband, however little he had relished the notion. It was a bargain poorly struck; yet it had been struck. To not honour it would bring shame upon him, upon his name.

He let out a soft sigh as he uncrossed his arms and turned to face her, as was proper. “What would you like to speak of, Princess Deidameia?”

Hope kindled in her tear-filled eyes, and her crimson lips parted in a sharp intake of breath. “Anything,” she said, her cheeks flushing even more, “anything you would like. Prince Achilles.” She curtsied before him, bowing her head. The sun caught on the glossy black waves of her hair.

He stood straight before her, clasping his hands behind his back. It was not easy, finding a topic of conversation that would interest them both. But then his gaze fell upon the cyclamens and violets of the garland that hung about her neck, and he remembered how Patroclus and he had gathered them in Pelion, hung them and dried them and worked them into dusts and pastes under Chiron’s instruction. Patroclus and he always used to talk about plants and their uses, would make a game of coming up with as many as they could whenever they went walking beyond the olive grove, past the stream, through the winding paths of the forest. The sycamore trees would be turning red and gold now with the ripening autumn, their fallen foliage covering the forest floor in a thick carpet of leaves.

A pang of longing drove through him at the memories. How long would it be, until he could see Mount Pelion again? Until he could walk those same mountain paths, gather herbs and swim in the stream, sleep under the glittering rose quartz crystals of their cave with Patroclus by his side again?

Deidameia blinked up at him, expectant. Achilles drew a slow breath.

“Have you any knowledge of herbs?” he asked.

~

The sweet notes of the lyre drifted into the quiet morning, a timbre that vibrated through the half-empty dancer’s hall. It was followed by Deidameia’s laugh, sharp and fleeting like quicksilver.

“Do it again, Pyrrha!” She was sitting beside him, her dark eyes alight with excitement as she watched his fingers move along the strings. Her own lyre was in her lap, forgotten. “One more time. I wish to see it again.”

Achilles plucked the same notes, slower this time, then waited for Deidameia to follow his example. She had decided earlier that week that she wished to learn how to play the lyre as well as he did, and she had barely left his side since then. She had quickly reverted back to her old, highly excitable and tempestuous self shortly after their talk at Poseidon’s festival, yet her behaviour was still changed. The other maidens seemed to have sensed it; Deidameia hardly had any interest in spending time with anyone but him, and they all took care to keep out of her way- and the sharp edge of her tongue.

“Look at your hands, how beautifully they move,” she crooned, watching his fingers with a sort of hunger. “Phoebus Apollo himself must have blessed you, Pyrrha, when you were born.”

Achilles did not reply. He simply focused on the act of playing, letting the music thrum through him, brushing all thoughts aside. It always had this effect on him, the trilling sound of the lyre; it would ease away any tiredness or ache, it would imbue his mind with calm and serenity. There was no room for outside distractions when he played; that other people enjoyed it mattered not. The lyre that was now cradled in his hands was a well-made one, of carved walnut wood, smoothed and polished to a high shine, yet the sound was almost hollow, almost dull. The sounds that came from Patroclus' lyre were deep and clear; this lyre, however well-made, could never hope to compare.

“You try it now,” he told Deidameia when the piece was over. “As I showed you.”

Deidameia blinked, as if waking up. Her gaze was dreamy and distracted while she watched him play, yet now she straightened in her seat. She tossed her head back, sending the dark curls that hung down her back swinging.

“Like this?” she asked. Her fingers, when she placed them over the strings, were the wrong shape, despite Achilles only having shown her how to properly position them moments before. Her eyes flicked up to his own, dark eyes regarding him carefully through her eyelashes.

“No,” Achilles said, his voice only slightly tinged with exasperation, “that is not how I showed you.” He set his own lyre to the side and sat close beside her, guiding her hand. It was not so complicated a hand position, yet Deidameia seemed to be particularly slow in picking up his instruction. Patroclus had learnt it perfectly in less than a day. “This. This is how you do it.”

Deidameia’s arm brushed his own, so close were they sitting, and Achilles thought he felt her shivering, though the window behind them was shut and the coals were hot and glowing in the brazier. She plucked the strings one by one, holding her breath. The sound was harsh and strained, but at least the chords were somewhat correct this time.

“How about this?” she asked softly. “Is that better?”

“Yes, slightly. You need to practice more.”

She beamed at him, the colour in her cheeks rising to a bright cherry pink. “Oh, I will. I’ll practice day and night, until I do it perfectly. Then we can play together, and everyone will be so envious of our song.” Her head tilted towards him ever so slightly, a sweet floral scent wafting from her curls when she tossed them back. “You are the best instructor I could hope for, Pyrrha.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Achilles simply stared at her for a moment in puzzlement. “Thank you,” he finally said as he returned to his seat. “If you say so.”

Deidameia seemed faintly disappointed at the distance that Achilles put between them. Yet before she could say anything, once of her maids appeared at the door. Deidameia’s quick, dark eyes fell on her, and the girl cowered at the annoyance that flashed in them at having interrupted the lyre lesson.

“Forgive me, my lady,” the girl said, curtsying, “but a visitor has arrived. He wished to speak with your father, but he is indisposed, so—”

“A visitor?” Achilles’ heart fluttered with hope at the words. The palace of Skyros hardly ever got any visitors, so it was unusual enough an occasion to make all the maidens in the hall abandon their embroidery and their skeins of spun wool to stare at the maid. Achilles stood up.

“Who is this visitor?” he demanded of the girl, who gaped at him. “What is his name?”

“It is surely nothing, Pyrrha!” Deidameia said hastily, abandoning her lyre and springing to her feet. “Nothing to concern yourself with.” She shot a fiery glare to the maidens, who averted their gazes and returned to their work. “One of my father’s friends that has come to visit, I am sure. Or perhaps a prince or king who wishes for his daughter to join my dancers. We do get those quite often, remember?” She set her small hand on his arm, in a gesture that Achilles vaguely registered was supposed to be soothing. He glanced down at her, and she gave him a small smile, which was only a little tense. “I’ll go see who it is. You girls should not alarm yourselves. I’ll be back shortly.”

While Deidameia was away, Achilles sat on hot coals. His hands on the lyre were stiff, his knee jerking underneath the fabric of his skirt. Could it be? Could it be that Patroclus was finally there? His stomach twisted with anticipation, a swarm of bees buzzing in his chest.

He would see him again. He would hear his voice again. He would touch, kiss, hold him again. The thought was enough to make his head swim.

Achilles anxiously searched Deidameia’s face when she returned to the dancer’s hall. Her air was different than before she had left; the skin on her forehead was just a little tight, her lips pursed, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dress where she stood. She noticed his gaze on her, and gave him a smile that little belied her thoughts.

“A very special guest has arrived,” she announced to all the maidens in the hall. “A scrumptious feast is being prepared for him. Of course, no feast would be complete without Deidameia’s women. We shall perform our finest choreia for him.”

While the maidens were casting off their embroideries and finishing coiling their skeins of wool, Achilles approached Deidameia to quietly ask her, “Who is this guest?”

She looked up at him, and he thought he saw a shadow darken her features. It was gone in an instant as her lips widened in a sweet smile and she said, “Oh, you wouldn’t know him.”

~

The maidens practiced their dance all morning, and most of the afternoon under Deidameia’s watchful eye. She was uncharacteristically thorough in her instruction that day, and more than once did she snap at one of the girls, even Pagona and Phrasikleia who were among the most adept, for not performing the steps correctly. She also refused to practice the paired dances with any one other than Achilles, though he had somewhat come to expect this.

“Of all my women,” Deidameia announced while the girls were putting on their finest dresses with the most lavish embroidery, their most colourful scarves, gilded bracelets and anklets rattling as they moved, “Pyrrha is the most graceful, the most fleet-footed. None of you could hope to match her.” She flashed him a bright smile as she took his hand, then stepped into the torch-lit corridors beyond the dancer’s hall.

The smell of cooking meat, spiced bread and the rich scent of wine being mixed with water in the wide brass bowls reached them as they made their way towards the throne room. As the princess, Deidameia was leading the procession, with the rest following behind her. Her dark, glossy hair was expertly curled and delicately perfumed; her red lips had been tinted scarlet with crushed rose petals; rows upon rows of golden bracelets and rings caught the torchlight as she walked ahead. Just before entering the throne room, she stopped, turning to face them.

“Do not enter unless I call for you,” she ordered, and left them in the half dark of the corridor.

From the gap in the door, Achilles peered at the crowded room. Rows of tables had already been set, laden with food and drink. King Lycomedes was there too, taking his seat at the highest table with Deidameia by his side. Servants were moving about left and right, bringing in yet more bowls of fruit and meat, platters of cheeses and steaming loaves of bread, or mixing wine and pouring it. It had been weeks since such a lavish feast had been prepared.

The question had never left Achilles’ mind. Who was this guest?

“Stranger from Pelion,” Deidameia’s silvery voice cut through the din and the chatter. “Never again will you be able to say that you have not heard of Deidameia’s women.”

A wave of her hand was their cue. Achilles stepped into the hall, carefully lifting the hem of his skirts as he walked. The soft notes of the flute, the lyre and the cymbals accompanied them as each dancer moved to position. Deidameia stepped around the table, coming to take Achilles’ hand. It was cold around his, holding just a little too tightly.

Achilles flowed effortlessly through the practiced movements. His feet tapped the earth in the rhythm of the cymbals, his arms lifted in time with the trill of the lyre; he tossed his head back when the flute reached its high notes, then ducked his eyes when it quietened. The dance Deidameia had chosen was one of the most elaborate, with each movement being mirrored almost precisely by each dancer’s partner. Deidameia smiled encouragingly at him every time their steps met, her eyes flashed every time they parted. She reached out to touch him, her beringed fingers skimming his wrist as they danced.

When the music drew to a close, she came to stand beside him, her hand still reaching for his. They curtsied and bowed their heads in perfect sync, then straightened. Achilles lifted his head.

Somewhere in the silently watching crowd, the sound of a single intake of breath.

Achilles’ heart ceased beating, the world around him coming to sudden halt. He knew that breath. He knew it, better than his own. He would know it in the dark, amidst countless others. He would know it in madness, in death, if the sun never rose and the mists of oblivion swallowed the earth. He would know it.

He would know him.

Achilles’ limbs moved before thought reached them. The crowd parted before him as he stepped, then walked, then ran, closing the distance between them.

“Patroclus,” he whispered, voice thick and strained, catching in his throat. His arms wrapped around familiar, slender shoulders, his nose sank in familiar dark curls, his lungs swelled with that familiar, comforting scent: jasmine blossoms, salt and sea, warm earth still wet with early morning dew.

Home. He smelt like home.

“Patroclus,” he said again, eyes stinging with tears, “Patroclus—”

“Pyrrha!”

The voice reached him as if through a cloud; the name unknown to him now, incomprehensible. There was no room for it, not when he had Patroclus in his arms. He drew back to look upon him, cradled his face in his hands. Honey brown eyes peered back at him in disbelief, gleaming in the light from the fires in the braziers. His brow was tanned and weather beaten, his plush bottom lip chafed from the wind and the salt. Achilles traced the outline of those lips with his thumb, drinking in the sight of him, the feel of him. He caressed the faint dark circles underneath his eyes with the pad of his fingertips, and thought of all the long and fretful nights they had spent apart, reaching for each other in their dreams.

“My mother,” Achilles whispered, searching for the right words. He had to tell him, to explain. “My mother, she—”

“Pyrrha!” Deidameia clutched his arm, pulling him away, at the same time that King Lycomedes asked, “Who is this man, Pyrrha?”

Achilles reluctantly peeled his eyes away from Patroclus to look at the King. The hall was empty now, void of dancers, musicians, servants, the crowd that had gathered. The king must have sent them away.

“No one,” Deidameia shrieked, still tugging at his arm. “He is no one—”

“My husband.” Achilles held Patroclus’ hand tightly, never letting go. “He is my husband. He has come for me, and now I may leave your court.”

Deidameia went silent. Her hold on him went slack, and she looked up at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “You cannot,” she said breathlessly. “You cannot do this to me.”

Achilles regarded her coolly. A distant part of him was surprised at how little her reaction mattered to him. He had agreed to marry her only so that he could see Patroclus again; now that he was there, there was nothing holding him to her anymore. He had honoured his end of the bargain. Nothing that she did now was any of his concern.

“Sir,” King Lycomedes asked Patroclus, his disbelieving expression mirroring his daughter’s. “Is this true?”

Achilles squeezed Patroclus’ fingers.

“Yes,” Patroclus said, and a shiver ran up Achilles’ spine upon hearing him speak. Gods, how he had missed the sound of his voice.

The next few moments washed over Achilles like the icy waters of a violent, rushing river.

You have betrayed me! Apathes!

We are married. You are my husband.

I have lain with him.

I am pregnant.

He stood, frozen and numb, before the onslaught of Deidameia’s wrath, her anguish, her defeat. In the midst of his shock, he felt Patroclus’ fingers slipping from his own, his sandaled feet padding to the door.

“Patroclus!” Achilles ran after him, leaving Deidameia and the old king behind. His mother, who had appeared at the first sign of the commotion, made as if to reach for him, but he swerved past her. He cursed when the hem of his dress caught around his ankles; he jerkingly tugged at the fabric as he followed Patroclus out of the room. “Wait!” he cried, and caught him by the arm.

Patroclus stood perfectly still. He did not turn to look at him when he said, “Let go.”

Achilles started at the emptiness in his voice, the detachment. Patroclus had never spoken like this to him before.

“My mother,” he uttered hastily, “she made me. She led the girl to my room. She—” He scrambled for words, yet the consonants and vowels tangled on his tongue. A sudden coldness crept within him, a strange sort of despair. It startled him, how quick it was to steal his thoughts away, to turn them to dust.

“I did it for you,” he said, helpless. “For us. I had to— I had to see you. She said that if I did as she said, she would tell you where I was.”

Patroclus was still not looking at him; it felt as if he never would. Achilles cupped his cheek, brought his gaze up to his own. He searched his eyes, his face, his expression for any sign of recognition, of forgiveness. “Patroclus.” His heart thumped painfully, clawing at his chest as he searched, and searched. “Please, say something.”

“You did it for nothing.”

Achilles blinked, frozen. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother did not tell me where you were. It was Peleus.”

The breath that had been gliding down his throat caught, dandelion puffs trapped in the thorns of a prickly pear tree. His voice sounded as if coming from far away when he asked, “She did not tell you?”

“No,” Patroclus answered, and the harshness in his tone was so sharp and foreign that Achilles winced. “Did you truly expect she would?”

“Yes,” Achilles whispered, and the sudden emptiness left him breathless. The magnitude of his mother’s betrayal stung. It was deep, bottomless; Achilles could not find where it ended, where it began. Had everything she told him been a lie? Had she lied about keeping him safe, keeping them both safe? Had the last two months been for nothing at all?

It did not matter now. What was done was done, but Patroclus was there. He was right there before him, yet looked at him as if he could not see him. Achilles counted his heartbeats as he gazed at Patroclus, searching his eyes, searching.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice engulfed by the oppressive silence of the corridor. He reached for him once more; his palm cradled the curve of his cheek, fingers brushing the shell of his ear. Every fibre of his being ached for him. He could not stay away. “I did not want it. It was not you. I did not— I did not like it.”

Something in his words seemed to pierce the invisible veil that had settled between them. Patroclus looked at him then, really looked at him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered, and leaned into Achilles’ touch.

They embraced then, like they never had before. They reached for each other as if through a fog; Patroclus’ arms wound around his middle, Achilles’ fingers threaded through dark curls, unruly and dishevelled from countless days of the sea breeze combing through it. Achilles leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss, to feel him, taste him on his tongue. He held him close, drew breath from his lungs, drank him in as if he were sweet summer rain falling on dry, parched earth.

“I missed you,” Achilles said against his lips, breathless, reeling, “I missed you—”

“I missed you, too.” Patroclus clutched him fiercely, his voice steady despite the tears that were coursing down his cheeks. Achilles kissed his damp eyelashes, wiped the tears away with his thumb, his throat burning with the effort of holding his own back.

When Patroclus' tears had ebbed, Achilles edged back to look at him, at the outline of that beloved face. The trembling torchlight cast shifting shadows on his cheekbones, his jaw, the slope of his nose, the hollow of his eyes. Achilles traced them with his fingertips, slowly and deliberately, followed those same pathways he knew like the back of his hand. He did not need that feeble glow to see him; he would know him even without it, the way one knows their heart is beating even if they cannot see it, knows their blood is coursing through their veins even when they cannot touch it.

He would know him blind. He would know him in death. He would know him at the end of the world.

[twonderland]

☆*:.｡. NRC has a maid cafe?! .｡.:*☆

Pt. 2

- after Azul seems to be unable to finish sentences while talking to you, (this lil’ devil is laughing inside from seeing Azul’s red face) he is the next tutor to help you improve your performance. It was easy now that you have already started with Azul

- “Oya...” is the only thing that he says after seeing you in your maid outfit, when you approach him he’s still looking at you with slightly wider eyes, his expression is a bit difficult to read but this is Jade, so his usual smug smirk appears in no time

- “Fair enough, let’s continue this practice little maid” he starts to walk to one of the tables “yes ! Jade-senpai” but as soon as you finish saying that he turns around, leans forward and places a finger on your lips making you silent “it’s Jade-sama, isn’t it now ?” he says with a smug smirk, looking you straight in the eyes

- BLUSH

- you are blushing madly while he proceeds with his tutelage, you thought you could control being near him 👀 in private.... calling him master....

- “WHO AM I KIDDING?!” You think, this is Jade, and if he casually touching you and being your tutor isn’t enough his eyes doesn’t help, he’s calm and collected, every time you move he sees it so meticulously

- Trying to hide the excitement when he congratulates you is nearly impossible “very well little maid” also gives you little head pats. When there’s something of the menu that you aren’t sure how to pronounce it he comes from behind and grabs the menu while you do and intertwines his long fingers with yours, you can feel his body warmth on your back while he’s clearing all doubts right next to your ear with a soft voice

- YOU CANT PROCESS ANYTHING THAT HE'S SAYING GOD DAMN IT

- It’s funny how at the beginning Azul was the one being incapable of speaking and now here you are in the same state

- Everything seems “casual” or even innocent but you notice that there is always a part of him touching you, his hand o your lower back, pats on the head, he guiding your hands, but there is a moment where you almost kiss him ...

- He was next to your face looking at the menu and you turn your face to look at him and , he did the same thing

- Lest just say that the warmth of both of your bodies increased at that moment ...

- “Are ~ koebi-Chan looks like a penguin now !! Hehehe” (Floyd stop) he’s all thrilled when he heard that Jade and Azul were helping you ! That means you can stay in monstro lounge all afternoon !!!

- Don’t get it wrong, even if Floyd is hyperactive and sometimes he can’t focus he’s a really good waiter, he’s fast, and can remember lots of orders at once, so he doesn’t understand why his koebi-Chan is so slow ~

- “Trying to move in this high heels is kind of difficult Floyd” “eeeh ~ is that so~ well, what if I do ... THIS !!!” He’s carrying you now “Koebi-Chan will go faster like this right? ~ HEHEHE” “FLOYD STOP IT IM STILL HOLDING THE TRAY!!!”

- he’s taking this opportunity to be even more touchy and clingy than usual, is just that you look so cute in those clothes !! (If you know what I mean 😏) They are so tiny and they fit you so well ~. He’s still holding you while he takes a seat, in other words, you are on his lap “very good koebi-chan~ so when you approach any customer you will hand them the menu and explain the main dishes ...” “y-yeah but Floyd, I should be standing next to the table so I can practice” his embrace tightens a bit making you nervous “Mmm, what was that koebi-chan?” “....n-never mind”

- Everything went (in some way) cool at the end, but just when Floyd started imagining that you would be attending only male customers he tried to persuade you to not attend the day of the festival

- “There’s no way I’m not attending to the cafe Floyd !!” “Buuuut koebi-chan monstro Lounge is WAY more entertaining !!! Why don’t you stay, and have fun !!”

- You manage to convince him that he can visit as a customer so you can put in practice everything he taught you !

- The day of the festival he scapes from his dorm activity to go and visit you at the cafe ! He says that he’s used to Azul getting mad anyway~

- Also .... there was a tiny blush on his face when you called him “Floyd-sama” “Ahahaha, I’m koebi-Chan’s master! Now I order you to wear this clothes every time you visit monstro lounge!!!” “EH ?!”

- As usual Ocatvinelle has really sly members ...

- He’s helping at the café as a butler, Azul mentioned his skills as a waiter and he was cool about it, it means he can do something that he’s familiar with, right ?

- BUT THIS TIME he has proper butler clothes and bless god he got that outfit ‘cause it fits him so damn good 👏🏻👌👌

- I MEAN haven’t you seen his fit figure ? He also has grace while moving, something that you wouldn't expect from someone of his height but hey .... you are not the only one admiring his appearance, he’s also checking you out 😏

- He was kind of jealous that you had been practicing with other guys like Floyd or Jade, but obviously he’s not gonna say anything about it, he doesn’t even understand those feelings anyway (why would he care where were you ? Or who were you practicing with ?)

- He’s a good and intelligent boy, doesn’t have problem memorizing everything on the menu. The day of the festival arrived and he was eager to see you, he knew that your outfit was cute but ... not this cute. The very moment you spoke to him he’s blushing a little bit and stuttering, ITS JUST THAT , you are so tiny and he having the view he has, he almost can see from upside your cleavage ....

- he’s cursing himself for having this kind of thoughts. But there’s no time for being shy, the customers were here. There was a group of guys that were checking you out ever since they came into the cafe, “stop looking at her like that you stupid dumb asses” he didn’t get involved in the situation a lot until one of them dropped a fork purposely to the floor so when you tried to pick it up they could see under you skirt

- HELL NO

- Just when you were bending down to pick it up Jack was holding your torso from behind so you didn’t went any forward and he leaves a clean fork on the table of the customers

- “Your fork master, please be careful to not drop it again, or something else can end on the floor” he said between teeth with a low and threatening voice

- He took you to a side of the cafe away from the clients, pinned you to the wall so he had all your attention, he was mad he was really mad

- “Listen now, whenever they drop something to the floor or try to touch you you tell me got it ?” He didn’t notice he was holding your waist

- “”Uh ... yeah... ok” you’re blushing, thats when he realizes

- Both of you are a blushing mess and went out attending customers like that, good luck guys ! 😂

[what-big-teeth]

Soothe (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

A quick re-upload of this fic requested by @gothglamonenightstand​ featuring a Black female reader and a male naga. A slight misunderstanding leads to more and a happy ending. Hope you enjoy!

tw: animal attack, animal death

Female Reader (POV) x Male Naga The cottage is everything you dreamed of. 

It’s cozy with two floors, but not overly spacious with a welcoming guest room. Its clean hearth is large enough to warm the whole house during the heavy winters. But for now, during these mid-summer months, you’ll be drawn to the window of the master bedroom, which showcases a spectacular view of the forest just beyond the property’s edge. 

Your new home is a wonder, one that was purchased with little coin per the last owner’s request. This, and the kindness of the elderly Mr. Adley, is why you’re more than happy to accommodate him until his son returns from the village to shepherd the older man to his new home. 

“I’m glad everything’s to your liking, my dear. I was somewhat worried when you first arrived to see what this old shell had to offer.” 

You tuck a thick lock of curly, black hair behind your brown ear with a smile and pour him another cup of soothing chamomile tea, finishing it with a dollop of honey. 

“You had nothing to worry about, sir. This place is lovely and has a charm all its own. It carries the feeling of home all throughout.” 

Mr. Adley chuckles, his wizened, light brown hand lifting his handcrafted cup with a slight tremble. 

“Then may I also suggest the pathway from the back garden into the forest? I used the walk to clear my head and relax when life became overwhelming. I hope it can offer you the same if you need a reprieve from your apprenticeship.” 

You respond with a brief smile then hide your growing frown behind your teacup.

The fact you were chosen as Madam Irene Bastien’s apprentice was a miracle all its own. Known for her reticence as much as her natural genius, people from far and wide sought her out for the chance to glean any knowledge from her. But every time, she rejected all potential students. Word of her refusals spread far and wide to the point that the number of hopeful potentials gathering at her manor dwindled to nothing. 

You had heard the stories about the elusive apothecary and hearing was more than enough.You were comfortable in your little hometown, aiding your mother with selling her wares at the market. But a chance encounter in late spring with a carefully disguised Madam changed your life forever.  

You had merely suggested to her a list of ingredients for a healing tonic and accompanied her around the market, helping her find the items. All without realizing that you helping out a supposed ‘visitor’ was a secret test of sorts. That very night, Madam Bastien revealed her true identity after finding your home and offered you an apprenticeship.  

You’re still not yet sure what she sees in you, a mere beginner apothecary. But your family refused to let such a wonderful opportunity pass by. With their blessing, you gathered your belongings and made the three day move to the outskirts of the country’s capital, promising to never let doubt make you look back. 

“Miss?” 

You startle, your forearm bumping into the half-filled metal kettle beside you. Thankfully, the water inside has cooled to a lukewarm temperature.  

“Sorry,” you say, “I got lost in my thoughts.” 

“That’s alright, dear. A lot has happened today.” 

Thankful for Mr. Adley’s kindness, you actively listen to his stories about how he built the cottage as a gift to his late wife. How his son grew up here as a rambunctious child. How so many friends and visitors from the capital would stop by during the yearly equinox festivals.  

When his son arrives, you happily help him gather Mr. Adley’s belongings and place them beside the wagon to be packed. A few hours later, as you bid the men goodbye with a wave, a sense of warm contentment settles over you. You hope to run into Mr. Adley again one day, to share another cup of tea and to hear more of his stories.  

But for now, there’s unpacking to be done.  

First your clothing, which was packed by your mother in a sturdy trunk. Then, the wooden statuettes carved by your father. The bed linens, pillows, blankets, and your other personal belongings. Once everything is secured in its proper place, you light the hearth and reheat the stew cooked for you by Mr. Adley’s son.  

Your stomach full, you think about the path Mr. Adley mentioned, wanting to at least see it before night fell. But no such luck.  

“Ah well,” you murmur to yourself. “There’s always tomorrow.” 

Your stomach full, you heat up some water drawn from the backyard well and scrub the day’s accumulated dirt from your body. Dressed in a long gown and with a silent yawn, you climb the stairs to retire to your bedroom.  

Tomorrow will be a busy day and you can’t afford any lethargy. Safely tucked in bed, you close your eyes and drift to sleep. 

---------------------------------------------------------

The horse-drawn coach hits a slight bump on the gravel road, rocking you and your filled satchel. You had asked to sit up front beside the driver when he first arrived in the early morning. Mainly to talk and to calm your addled nerves. 

Unfortunately, he declined, stating that he had strict orders from Madam Bastien to keep his distance. His words saddened you somewhat, but you complied, not wanting to threaten his standing with the Madam. 

One drive past the capital’s city gates on the cobblestoned road and into the business district, the coach arrives at the Madam’s workshop. It’s small but sturdy, a much more humble place than the manor she’s known to live in. Once the coach slows to a stop, you gather your satchel and climb out.  

A woman with deep skin the color of a starless, night sky stands before the workshop’s door. Her gaze is stalwart as she watches your approach, her hands tucked behind her back. Once you’re close enough, she gives you a warm smile that stretches the crow’s feet gathered at the corner of her eyes.

“Welcome,” she says. “Have you already had breakfast?” 

The cheerful manner in which she greets you is nothing like how she first met you. You swiftly remember your manners and reply before she can attribute your silence to rudeness. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Then the bread and pastries inside will serve as a later brunch.”  

Madam Bastien turns around, her long, gray beaded braids shifting against her back. She opens the door with a wrinkled hand and glances at you with a sharp, deep brown gaze.  

“Let’s get started,” she says. “We have much to cover.” 

And cover much you did. The pages of your new journal were soon stained with notes detailing a variety of topics. Types of animal fats, herbs, plants. Which salves, tinctures, and ointments work best. Potions for pain, conception, and contraceptive measures. The apothecaries’ system for measurement.  

She then has you mix together a common tincture after you memorize the ingredient list. The first time, the mix isn’t properly done. Not enough potency. How she can tell just by the scent alone is astounding. So you try again. And again. And again, until finally, you get it right.  

By the time brunch rolls around, a number of failed tinctures sit on the table before you and your journal is halfway filled. You’ll have to purchase another before the next lesson.  

“I think a break is needed,” Madam Bastien says. “You must be getting hungry.” 

You’re about to politely refute her claim, but your empty stomach answers in reply, refusing to be ignored. With a chuckle, Madam Bastien stokes a fire in her hearth and uses the heat to warm up the chilled bread and pastries. They go wonderfully well with some tea and herbed butter, as you soon learn. You happily eat your fill, humming at the mesh of flavors coating your tongue. Madam Bastien, however, sits across from you and takes the time to flip through your journal. She nods as she reads along, smiling. 

“I was right,” she says. “You’ll be a wonderful choice for the position of Royal Apothecary once I retire.” 

Your fork clatters against your plate.  

“W-what?” Madam Bastien simply picks up a pastry and spreads a little butter onto the flakey crust.  

“Word got out about my imminent retirement, no doubt thanks to those damned gossips at Court. That’s why so many would-be apprentices swarmed my estate. Of course, I wasn’t going to simply choose some hopeful unknown to take my place as the Royal Family’s apothecary.” 

She sips at her cooling tea before continuing.  

“I decided to find my apprentice after the throngs died down. So the King allowed me to travel to the smaller pockets of the country while keeping the reason behind my absence a secret.” 

“...Which is how you met me.”

She nods.  

“A choice, I must say, I’m glad to have made. You show immense potential with your gift yet remain grounded. Both skills will be needed to survive the Royal Court and everything it entails. But that will be years from now.”  She taps a loose fist against her opposite shoulder with a chuckle. 

“I won’t be going anywhere any time soon. After all, there is still much to teach you. But for now, sate your hunger. Once you’re finished, you can leave for the market then get settled at home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at the same time.” 

You finish your portion, drain your cup of tea, and bid Madam Bastien a good day. The food weighs heavily in your belly and your temples pound as you gather foodstuffs from the large market. You honestly don’t know if you could’ve handled the task without the help of the coach driver. You’re thankful, but know he’s only aiding you due to the Madam’s order. And as before, he keeps to himself on the trip to your cottage. 

Your nerves tense and heighten to a peak once you arrive home. The sensation only grows stronger as you place your items in their proper places. Soon enough, you drop down into a chair at the dining table, your fingers tangling and pulling at your hair almost to the point of pain. 

You can deal with and adapt to a sudden apprenticeship. But the assured role of Royal Apothecary? That is something you nor your family foresaw. What would they say if they could see you now? 

With so many hypotheticals running through your mind, you honestly want to forget Madam Bastien’s words for a short time. Forget that tomorrow is coming and with it, a greater sense of responsibility you never expected. 

Your downcast gaze lifts towards the back door as Mr. Adley’s words resound in your mind. With the sun still visible in the sky, you won’t have to worry about nightfall and what it will bring. Now is a good time as any to see what his handmade path has to offer.  

You press to your feet and slip outside, closing the door softly with a tight grip. Taking a deep breath, you force your fingers to relax and glance down. Flat, gray stones form a simple trail before your feet, leading towards the forest. Blades of grass stick up in the gaps between each rock, a reminder that nature can easily overtake this area if it so chooses. It’s a charming sight, one that makes taking the first step easy.  

Your steady gait slows to a more eased pace as a gathering of clouds blocks the sun’s light. A gentle breeze carrying the raw, earthy scent of the forest brushes against your heated skin. You welcome the sensation with a pleased, quiet sigh and press onward.  

There’s nothing but a sea of rolling grass between your cottage and the outskirts of the forest. It’s easy to see why Mr. Adley suggested this, and you’re highly thankful. It’ll be another thing you’ll talk to him about when you see him again.  As you near the edge of the forest, your heart starts to sink. Turning around means having to face the reality of your apprenticeship; something you’d rather not do until absolutely necessary.  

In a way, your wish is granted. But not through normal means.  

Just a stone’s throw, in a sunlit clearing, a large, dark burly shape presses itself further onto the ground. You hear an odd, splashing sound that is soon followed with violent crunching. As the shape shifts, you’re able to see the scene before you with clarity. A massive, black bear tears its maw into the fresh remains of a stag. One that it, without a doubt, took down itself.  

You take a silent breath and begin to slowly back away. Something brittle snaps underneath your foot. You freeze. So does the bear up ahead.  

Your heart pounds in your chest as it lifts its head, searching for the source of the sound. Its dark eyes bore into yours, grunts emanating from its mouth. With a shrill roar, it barrels towards you, sharp teeth bared. You can’t move, no matter how much you beg your body to act.  

All you can do is shut your eyes and hope for a swift end. But there’s no impact. 

No sound of a beast eager to tear into you; only the soft whisper of a passing breeze. Carefully and slowly, as you mentally take stock of your intact self, your eyes open.  

The bear lies on the ground, nothing more than a motionless heap. The green grass underneath its form is slowly dyed a dark color, a deep red that the sun’s rays catch. But the shade is nothing compared to the ink-black braid belonging to the being calmly extracting their long claws from the carcass. Piercing gold eyes meet yours, framed by rich, brown skin and a full nose bearing a long scar. In fact, the majority of the stranger’s bare torso is littered with old injuries, both small and large. The only part of his body that remains untouched is his black, serpentine tail. 

Your legs decide then and there to lose their remaining strength. Your body sinks to the ground, the thick grass taking the brunt of your fall as your lungs cry out for air. You fill them, holding your hands over your throbbing chest.  

“Are you alright?” 

Your gaze darts up. The naga extends a bloodless, clawed hand towards you; the other he keeps behind his back. Pushing aside your nervousness, you take it and he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. But his grip on your hand remains; perhaps to keep steadying you.  

“T-thank you.” Your eyes flit from his claws, which barely touch your skin, to the fallen bear behind him. “I owe you my life.” 

He releases his grip on your hand after a few minutes of silence. No doubt after assuring you can stand on your own two feet without aid. 

“You must be the new owner of the cottage, then?”  

You startle at his words. 

“Yes, but how did…” 

“The Adleys told me about the upcoming changes weeks ago. I just didn’t expect to meet you so soon...maybe not at all.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, not quite aware of where the urge came from. But it acts as a crack in the dam holding back your feelings all the same.  

Without warning, everything spills out from your lips. Meeting Madam Bastien, your apprenticeship, the move to the capital from your only home. Your eyes burn and your chest heaves while you speak, but you can’t stop the release. Not until everything is out in the open, including your near-death experience.  As your sobs quiet, a cool sensation brushes against your wet cheeks. Your rescuer gives you a soft, understanding smile as he gently wipes away your tears with the back of his claw.  

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I must be taking up your time. And I don’t even know your name.” 

“It’s Anil,” he says. “And honestly? I was debating whether to take a nap in my favorite tree or grab a snack from the river. But I have to say this change in routine is more than welcome.” 

His relaxed tone pulls a true laugh from you, which by the look of his own fanged smile, was his goal. 

“Much better,” he murmurs.  

Somehow, that one comment and your emotional release has you feeling much lighter than before. You’re able to take a deep, calming breath and give him your name. All while returning Anil’s smile. He repeats it, as if committing it to memory. But a part of you wonders why he looks so thrilled to know such a simple thing. 

“Thank you again,” you say. “I should head back. I’m expected to meet with Madam Bastien tomorrow morning.” 

Anil nods then clears his throat.  

“If you’re in need of a willing ear, please feel free to return,” he says. “That is, if you’d like to.” 

Your eyes take him in: the way he deftly skims a claw over one of his cheeks while attempting to meet your gaze, but failing to hold it. The sight is endearing and rather sweet.  

“I would, as long as I don’t disturb you.” You purse your lips together and decide to take a chance. “In fact, if you’re available tomorrow…” 

“I am,” he says, in what you think is an excited tone. But you don’t want to assume.  

So you simply smile and bid him a good day, telling him “until tomorrow.” 

Anil repeats your words and you two go your separate ways. 

------------------------------------------------------------

The following day, Madam Bastien proves to be quite the taskmaster. Your new journal is nearly filled like its predecessor, prompting another visit to the market. And another venture to the forest’s edge.  

But this time, you plan to go bearing gifts.  At first, you expect to wait at the previous meeting spot until Anil arrives. Instead, you find a guide of sorts without any signs of yesterday’s bear. Makeshift stakes stick up from the tall grass, the tops marked with a vivid red dye. It doesn’t take long for your curiosity to get the better of you.  

You follow the marked path to a larger clearing where a massive tree towers overhead. Dappled sunlight shines through the gaps of the leaves and on a familiar, dozing naga. Anil is cradled among the thick yet lower branches of the tree. His dark tail is coiled underneath his upper body, providing a makeshift bed of sorts. His features are soft, the serene sight bringing a smile to your face. So you seat yourself at the tree’s base and turn to your attention to your wickered basket.  

You push back the lid and remove the linen keeping the food warm. The delicious, mingling scents make your mouth water. And cause a groan from up above.  Anil shifts, blinking down at you with bleary eyes, a few stray leaves clinging to his mussed hair. You giggle. 

“Good afternoon, Anil. Did you sleep well?” Anil yawns widely, his fangs unsheathing themselves from the action.  

“Very, thank you. By chance, is that venison I smell?” You nod.  

“It’s for you. I purchased it from the market as a surprise. Come have some.” 

You think you see Anil’s body tense for a few moments. 

“Are...are you sure?” he asks with a hesitant tone. 

You huff out a light laugh and smile.  

“Of course I am!” 

Seconds later, he takes you up on your offer and slithers his way down. Soon he’s beside you, happily partaking of the meat, bread, cheese, and fruit you’ve brought along. He finishes his portion with a satisfied sigh, licking his claws with a forked tongue while you tuck your leftovers back into the basket for dinner. 

“I wasn’t sure what to get originally, but I figured venison would be a safe bet. Was I right?”

 Anil glances your way then down to his hands. 

“You were, and then some. It’s actually my favorite.”

 He fidgets, the motion traveling down to his curled tail. It reminds you of how a ripple affects an entire pond.  

You reach out with a tentative hand and touch his shoulder. His deep inhale doesn’t escape your notice. “Is everything alright?” 

“Y-yes! I’m just thinking, that’s all. But that can wait. How was your time at Madam Bastien’s?” 

You tell him how your first foray with creating a decoction from memory went. Better than expected, but with some bumps along the way. You also mention the need for another journal and how you expect to have a miniature library soon.  

Anil listens intently to you, smiling all the while. But it’s the light in his golden eyes that give you pause. They’re warm, almost molten, and full of...fondness? You’re quick to dismiss the thought and prompt him to tell you about his day, which he readily does.  

When Anil asks to see you again, you both agree to the following day. It’s from that point onward that you notice some odd things.  

One day, as you accompany Anil to the river, he stays close by your side. During one instance, he places his clawed hand against the small of your back. You don’t think much of it, especially when you both come across some gnarled roots jutting from the ground. He carefully and gently guides you over the obstacles, but his touch lingers before he pulls away. 

Then, at the river, he catches a large haul of fish. But instead of placing them all into his own personal satchel, he reveals a second bag. He fills it with the majority of his catch and presents it to you with a shy smile on his lips. You accept it with genuine thanks and he looks away, grinning with pleasure.  

After that, Anil keeps close to you in various ways. But more so as he tells you about his family, him leaving the den before his other siblings, and meeting the Adleys. Still, whether it’s to guide you by holding your hand, to show you some of his favorite areas in the forest, or to present you with more food, he’s always near. In fact, your personal stock of meat is nearly overflowing and you’d hate for it to go to waste. 

Early that morning, you smoke the meat (with the wood Anil happily volunteered to chop for you) and bring the bundle to your next meeting with the Madam. She hums with pleasure as she tucks into the food and calls her coachman to receive a portion. 

“This fish is considered a rare delicacy here in the capital,” she says, dabbing at her lips with a thick napkin. “Last I checked, the fishmonger was unsure if he would have any this season. How did you come across it?” 

You sip at your water, unable to hide your smile.  

“A friend of mine gave me a part of his catch.” 

Madam Bastien gives you a look. It reminds you of the knowing way your mother would look at you when a young boy caught your attention.  

“Just a friend? Are you sure of that?” 

You’re about to refute her claim but pause. Your mind recalls just how close Anil has grown towards you over the last few weeks. You’ve also learned more about him and have come to greatly enjoy his company. But there’s...something more.  

“It seems,” Madam Bastien begins, pulling you from your thoughts, “that your friend wishes to impress you. If I may ask, what has he done for you so far?” 

You explain everything. And when she asks how it all began, you mention the picnic you prepared as thanks for saving your life from a raging bear. Confusion colors her face, but when you mention Anil being a naga… 

The Madam nearly chokes on her wine. She swiftly places her napkin against her mouth as she coughs, clearing her throat.  

“I-I’m so sorry,” you say standing up, hands raised and ready to help.  

But she holds up her own hand in reply, making you pause. She gestures for you to sit and you do. 

“Since that is the case,” she says after a deep swallow, “I should explain a bit about the naga and their courting habits…” 

She starts at the beginning, aligning what you and he have done so far with the start of naga courtship behavior. The interested party provides food without prompting, letting the other know their interest in them as a possible mate. As she provides more detail into what may happen—including copulation—a burning heat floods your cheeks. But you find that it isn’t unwelcomed.  

“So then,” she concludes, “That is what you should expect. I just hope that your new paramour won’t distract you from your studies, yes?” 

“Of course not.” You’re stunned to find that you mean every word and that you agree with Anil being more than a friend. “But, if it’s alright with you, may I be excused early today? There are some things I need to take care of.” 

The Madam calls for her coachman, gives you a knowing smile and winks.  

“Good luck, dearest.”

 ------------------------------------------------

You can barely contain yourself as the coach coasts to a stop before your cottage. In fact, you take the initiative and leap out before the coachman is able to open the door for you.  

You quickly circle around back and follow the stone pathway towards the edge of the forest. Your heart swells at the sight nearing closer with each stride.  

Anil holds a bundle of makeshift markers, the tips dyed that familiar shade of red. Before he’s able to spear the next stick into the ground, you shout his name. He pauses, straightening his body and saying your name as you dash towards him.  

He manages to catch you as you leap towards him, your arms winding around his neck and your cheek nestling against his own. He shudders, him own grip tightens around your body, secure and warm. 

“I’m guessing something good happened today?” 

You hum in reply, pulling back so you can see him face to face. Then, you gently press your lips against his. 

Anil tenses, and for a moment, doubt begins to seep in. But it’s quickly swept away as he kisses you back, his fangs pressing against your mouth and the tips of his claws gently teasing the nape of your neck. All while as his other arm holds you close. Your hand taps his back, a reminder of your need to breathe. He tapers off the kiss, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. His golden eyes glitter as they take in your breathless expression. 

“I didn’t...I wasn’t sure...so you are interested in me as I am in you?” 

“I am,” you say, cupping his cheek in your palm. “It just took me some time to realize it.”  

He nuzzles against your warmth, with a large grin.  

“How so?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” you say. “One that may take up most of the day.”

“I want to know,” Anil says. “As long as I can be right next to you.” 

You can’t help but silently agree.  “The cottage is large enough for the both of us, if that’s alright with you?” 

Anil presses his forehead against yours, his eyes drinking you in. 

“More than,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

[notveryglittery]

birthday prince (5)

summary: happy birthday, roman!!! words: 2,900 / ship: dlampts (deceit/logan/virgil/patton/roman/thomas/remy) author’s note: this is part five of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) |  read on ao3

— — —

“Rise and shine, buttercup!”

Roman swatted at the air, as if that would send away the voice trying to wake him. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled, burying his face back into a pillow.

“You said that ten minutes ago, sugar,” drawled another.

If Roman really thought about it, he’d remember that, yes, he was guilty of this charge. That didn’t mean that he would admit to it, of course! Besides, even if he did, today was his day so he should have been able to do whatever he liked.

Oh.

Oh!

Energy shot through him as he jolted up. “It’s my birthday!”

Patton’s laugh was musical, the most beautiful sound Roman could ever ask to start his morning with. “I knew we’d get there eventually.”

“I dunno, I was sure it’d take him at least another half hour,” Remy teased, standing in the doorway.

"Good morning!" Roman exclaimed, swooping in for a kiss from Patton. He happily obliged, taking it also as an opportunity to comb a hand through Roman's tangled hair.

Were it not for Remy clearing his throat a moment later, the two might have lost track of time entirely. They pulled apart, only a little sheepish about it. Patton took Roman's hands in his and gave him a tug, urging him out of bed. Thankfully, now that Roman knew what was being celebrated, he followed easily, lips curled into a grin that seemed it'd never go away.

"What's on the agenda?" He asked eagerly, curious how early it actually was and how long it'd be before his first gift.

"Get yourself dolled up first, hon," Remy told him, tilting his tumbler in the direction of the closet.

"Remy!" Patton hissed, a hint of a scolding reminder in his tone, if Roman was hearing right.

Apparently, this was all it took for Remy to remember whatever Patton was trying to say. They swapped places faster than Roman thought possible, especially with his sleep addled brain not quite keeping up. Remy looped an arm through Roman's and began leading the way to the bathroom.

Patton waved at them as he left, "see you in a bit!"

"You're up to something," Roman accused without hesitation.

"Why I never," Remy said, pouting. "When have I ever been up to anything in my whole life?"

It was, again, thanks to Roman's still half-asleep state that he could level Remy with his best unimpressed look.

"Here I am, just trying to help you look your absolute best, and you're claiming me a criminal. That's just plain unfair."

Roman couldn't deny how wonderful that sounded, actually. Doing his own makeup and hair was a regular occasion, so much so that it almost got boring to do anymore. Remy, without a doubt, could be trusted to make sure Roman's winged eyeliner would be sharp enough to kill a man. Not that Roman would ever admit it, but Remy might have been even a better makeup artist than he was.

"Alright, alright," Roman yielded, "I supposed I'd be lucky to have someone of your talent dress me up today."

Remy looked equally smug and delighted at this. He shooed Roman along to take a shower, ducking back out of the bathroom to, presumably, pick an outfit for Roman for the day. The prince used the hair and body care products that he liked to save for special occasions, singing (of course) various Disney love songs as he did. With what must've been some sort of sixth sense, Remy was on him again as soon as he was wrapped up in a bathrobe and towling his hair dry. He got to work without wasting a moment, making sure that Roman's luxurious locks were fluffy and styled just right. The swoop to his bangs had never been so perfect, if he was being honest! The makeup look was bold, reds and golds and glitter; thankfully, Remy reassured him he'd used all waterproof brands so that Roman could cry all he liked without issue.

They returned back to the bedroom, where Remy had the outfit displayed on a mannequin. It shouldn't have been a shock that he'd picked some of Roman's favorite pieces but he was pleasantly surprised all the same.

"I really do just know you that well, I guess," Remy said, nonchalantly.

Roman, lightning quick, pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a lipstick print. "You do and I love you so much for it!"

While Remy blushed and stammered at the sudden affection, Roman darted ahead and began to get dressed. Remy didn't need to turn away to give Roman his privacy, all things considered, but he did anyway, fiddling with the jewelry on Roman's vanity. It took some deliberating, but he decided finally that, above all else, the rainbow jewel encrusted crown was a must for today's ensemble.

"How do I look?"

"Babe, I don't even need to—" Remy's words died on his tongue as he faced Roman. Sure, there had been no doubt that Roman would look handsome as hell, but the beaming smile and light in his eyes and bouncy excited posture… He looked so happy and radiant and— "Wow."

"Stop," Roman said, giggling.

Remy took the crown and approached. He gave Roman a half-bow, smirking up at him. "May I have the honor, your majesty?"

“Stop!" Roman repeated, squeaking.

"Never," Remy promised, standing and reaching up to nestle the accessory on Roman's head. Each strand of hair still fell perfectly into place. "Now then," he said, taking Roman's arm in his, "shall we begin the festivities?"

Getting downstairs took no time at all, though Remy did dart ahead and down the steps first, so that he could loudly announce Roman proper. Patton and Thomas cheered for him as he descended, which added only more to the warm blush that he had a feeling might be a permanent addition today to his makeup. The pair ooh'd and ahh'd over Roman's look, showering him in compliments and praise. If this was just the beginning, then he sincerely was unsure whether he'd make it out of the celebrations alive.

They gathered at the dining room table, where Virgil and Deceit were laying the finishing touches on breakfast. The spread looked delectable, every one of Roman's favorite foods, and all of it hot and freshly cooked. Logan joined them last, carrying a plate with a single biscuit on it. There was a lit candle, too, and they'd all started singing before Roman could even catch up. He blew the little fire out and made a wish - though they'd nearly all already come true at this point, anyway.

"We're breaking a record today of how many times we can sing happy birthday," Thomas said with a wink, "fair warning."

Breakfast was full of fun and light chatter. They talked about the rest of their plans (at least, the ones they weren't keeping secret) and reminisced on old milestones. Roman felt full and happy, content to just sit and listen to his loved ones talk and joke around him. He was never left out of the conversation, though, always pulled back into a topic or started one anew with. He was listened to, unequivocally, and the attention was pleasant.

Soon, the food was finished, and the group moved to the kitchen. Patton and Deceit worked together on dishes while Logan presented what would be the first of birthday treats. They were muffins with Crofter's jelly in the middle, a flavor that Roman didn't recognize.

"Roman's Razzleberry," Logan explained, looking mixed on his feelings regarding the name. "It took some experimenting, but this combination of raspberry, strawberry, and dragonfruit came out the metaphorical winner."

"It's delicious!" Roman exclaimed, taking another from the tray. "My own jam! Thank you, dearest."

They gathered in the living room next, where the furniture had been rearranged to give them space for various activities. They did start with a movie, to let their meal settle, all huddled together on the couches. Roman was squished between Virgil and Thomas, the former playing absentmindedly with Roman's fingers while Thomas trailed his hand up and down Roman's arm, leaving tingles along the way. He might have dozed off a little, warm and cozy as he was.

The short nap energized him for their next game. Charades was one of his favorites as it gave him an opportunity to really practice his acting skills. What better way to hone one's craft than by not being able to use all the normal necessary components? Playing a part without any speaking lines and having to hope he'd do well enough that his companions could guess… It was a challenge he always looked forward to!

Virgil popped out and back in shortly with snacks for them all, the apparent second birthday treat: popcorn and candies and chips and soda, all easy and quick but not any less appreciated. They split into teams of two, leaving one to be their referee, and then each round, swapping out so that they all could have a turn to play. Roman ended up the winner, to absolutely no one’s surprise, though Deceit did come in a close second.

Lunchtime had rolled around and this time, they took to each making sandwiches for themselves. Patton and Remy surprised them (well, surprised Roman) with the third and fourth birthday treats: heart shaped cookies with exquisite frosting doodles and red velvet cake pops, respectively. They were sweet and delicious and baked perfectly and Roman only resisted eating more than he could count because he knew he had to save room still for whatever Thomas and Deceit had made. After they were finished and the dishes were washed, Patton led the way back upstairs. They stopped in front of his room.

“Would it be okay if we took a trip down Memory Lane?” He asked, holding Roman’s hands. “I was thinking we could visit some birthdays past!”

Roman looked to the others, nearly overwhelmed with how much affection and love he had for them all. “Whatever you have planned, I’m all in.”

“Nap time,” Remy and Virgil chorused.

Deceit rolled his eyes while Logan stifled a laugh.

“Shh,” Thomas hushed, giving them pats on the head. It was an amusing sight, to say the least, as Remy had a couple of inches on him and Virgil’s hunched over form was shorter than them both.

Memory Lane was as warm and fuzzy as Roman remembered it. He didn’t come through here often, usually only when he and Remy needed something for a Dream, but the consistent feeling it carried of being embraced by Mom or Dad was nice. The memories they visited were nice, too: old visions of time spent with friends, trips to amusement parks, parties that ran late into the night. While they all had their moments, Roman couldn’t help but feel that his birthday today was the absolute very best of them all. By the time they exited, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so relaxed. Logan and Virgil, on the other hand, looked like they were a little tired from the adventure. He took to their sides, planting himself between them, and grabbing each of their hands. Their quiet, grateful smiles were enough to give him pleasant shivers down his spine.

“Kitchen’s off limits,” Deceit announced as they all arrived back downstairs. “None may enter.”

“Except me!” Thomas piped up.

“Except you,” Deceit agreed, giving him a not-so-secret smitten smile.

Before Roman could ask why, they’d both disappeared. His attention was quickly stolen by Remy anyway, who was dragging him down onto the couch for his and Virgil’s aforementioned nap time. Patton giggled, making sure that they had enough blankets and pillows to be comfy.

“You sleep well, okay? We’ll wake you up in a little bit!” Patton said, taking Roman’s crown for him so that it wouldn’t get in the way, and setting it carefully on the coffee table.

If Roman wanted to ask Logan and Patton to join their cuddling, he didn’t get a chance to. Remy was carding a hand through his hair, draining him of his energy with each gentle scrape of nails against his scalp. He would have declared Remy a cheater for using his powers like this, but Virgil was falling victim to it as well and having his emo nightmare curled up with him was too pleasant to allow any upset feelings, regardless of how joking or serious they were.

Roman did, in fact, nap well, especially thanks to Remy’s presence.

When he woke, his limbs were only a little stiff, but he was overall very warm and relaxed. Virgil was gone but Remy had his face tucked into the crook of Roman’s neck. His sunglasses had been removed and Roman decided it might be worth dealing with the possible attitude of rousing Remy before he was well and ready if it meant getting to see his pretty eyes.

“Pstt,” he whispered, cupping Remy’s hand in his cheek. “My sweet dreamcatcher, it’s time to wake up.”

Remy grumbled, leaning into Roman’s hold. “Sweetie, I know you aren’t trying to coax me out of slumber right now.”

“Why I never,” he teased, echoing Remy’s earlier faux offended tone.

It took a moment longer, but Roman was blessed with getting to watch Remy blink away the lingering sleep. He thought this might be the best present of them all, seeing the swirling and shimmering shades of brown in Remy’s eyes, never one color at a time. It didn’t last long, what with Remy letting his eyelids slip back closed, but that was because he was leaning in to kiss Roman, and that sort of made it worth it.

“I should’ve known better than to leave you two alone,” Virgil groused suddenly, startling them apart.

“You’re just jealous I got to kiss the most handsome prince in the world before you did,” Remy said cheekily, reaching over to grab his sunglasses from the table and sliding them back on.

Roman couldn’t have prepared even if he wanted to. Virgil moved so quickly, thanks largely in part to those flight reflexes, swooping in and capturing Roman’s lips with his own. The kiss was fierce and passionate and even as Virgil pulled away, Roman followed after him. He sighed, disappointed for it to have ended so quickly. Virgil stuck his tongue out at Remy and then shot away as Remy lunged for him. They chased each other around the living room, laughing and throwing playful insults back and forth. Roman watched fondly from the couch, warm still in their nest of blankets.

Hands pressed down on his shoulders, massaging the post-nap aches away. Roman looked up, finding Logan above him. Logan smiled, bending slightly to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Troublemakers, the both of them,” he said, only pretending to be disappointed.

“You’re one to talk,” Roman pointed out. “I’ve seen what you and Deceit get up to.”

“Shh,” Logan hurried to interrupt. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Patton called suddenly from the kitchen.

Roman’s stomach growled, surprising him; he wondered how long they’d slept for. Logan came around to the front of the couch and helped Roman up. Virgil and Remy had already darted away to try and steal bits of food.

“Has your birthday been so far satisfactory?” Logan asked, taking a moment to return Roman’s crown to his head. It was a testament to Remy’s hard work that his hair still looked flawless.

“It’s been perfect,” Roman answered enthusiastically.

Dinner consisted, once more, of Roman’s favorite foods. The cupcakes were courtesy of Thomas, another birthday treat, and while he seemed embarrassed about the messy frosting, Roman thought it overwhelmingly endearing; he especially liked the edible glitter and fondant stars. As they were nearing the end of their meal, Deceit procured the final birthday treat: champagne glasses for them all, filled with bubbly cider. There was another happy birthday song as Patton brought the cake out to the dining room. Roman had definitely started crying by now, as it all came together just how much they’d done for him today.

“A toast,” Deceit began, holding up his glass. The others followed. “To our favorite author, poet, artist, actor.”

“To the prince of our dreams,” Remy chimed in.

“And our hearts!” Patton added.

“To the best Creativity I could ask for,” Thomas continued.

“To the greatest hero,” Virgil suggested.

“To a wise and clever leader, one whom we can always trust to take care of us,” Logan rounded out.

Roman wiped frantically at his eyes, uncertain whether his makeup was smudge proof as well, but not caring one bit. “Thank you,” he said, voice wobbly and thick with tears. “I love you guys more than I can say.”

Deceit, from his seat beside him, used his free hand to take one of Roman’s. He pressed a kiss to his knuckles and then held that hand to his cheek. “How unfortunate for your wellbeing,” he threatened sweetly, “because I think that we can say plenty.”

And they did, praising him on anything to everything: from his appearance to his creations, his traits and what made him tick, and the cute faces he made without realizing, and every tiny simple little thing they adored about him. It was, to say the least, the best way to end what had been the best day.

[purplesurveys]

1199

America - What is your favorite place to eat?  I mean...these days I obviously haven’t been eating out at all, but I used to always enjoy dining at either Yabu (for the food) or La Creperie (for the ambience).

Australia - Do you have any quirks when speaking?  I don’t think so; or at least I don’t think I’d be aware of them unless someone points them out to me.

Austria - What kind of person do you wish to be?  What do some (or most) of these questions have to do with the countries? Lmao. Anyway, I just want to be remembered as being kind, I guess. I’m not aiming for anything grand.

Belarus - Is there anyone you love?  I’d do anything for my friends, close or otherwise.

Belgium - What do you think of your siblings? I like my sister; I care about her. I don’t really think much of my brother.

Botswana - Do you like to sing? Why or why not?  Yeah, but I only do it for myself. I never sing in front of others; I don’t think I’m that good.

Bulgaria - Who do you consider close to you?  My two best friends and everyone in my college friend group.

Cameroon - Describe your culture.  Folktales, hundreds of languages, more than just adobo and balut.

Canada - Favorite wintertime activity?  We don’t have winter.

China - What was the best moment of your life?  I don’t think I’ve had it yet; but so far the moments that are in the running for ‘best’ are my Paramore concert in 2018 and the day I found out I passed UP.

Cuba - What sort of grudges do you hold if any?  I haven’t talked to Marielle since the backstabbing incident in 5th grade, and I pretty much don’t talk to my uncle (unless we’re at a family gathering and I have to greet him for show) for all his past failures.

Cyprus - What hands-on activities do you like (drawing, carving, building, etc.)?  Embroidery! which I haven’t done in a long while but I’m definitely still into it.

Denmark - Do you wish for something of your past?  I wish I had more time with my relatives who died from Covid. Even a proper goodbye and a big, long hug from each of them would’ve sufficed.

Egypt - Do you stand up for what you believe in? How?  Sure. I speak up about it, educate others when I can, and raise awareness or reiterate my stance about certain issues by sharing posts on social media.

England - Are you controlling?  Depends on what context you’re talking about, because control can mean many different things. I’m a control freak when it comes to my work tasks and I know that can drive some people mad, especially those who prefer working independently.

Estonia - Do you think people often misunderstand you?  I think I’m pretty easy to read.

Finland - What do you prefer, kindness, sternness, or apathy?  In general, kindness; but I also don’t have any clue to what context these words pertain.

France - How do you show love for those you care for?  I like messaging them about things I see that remind me of them. I will also buy them small gifts from time to time, usually food that I know they like.

Germania - What is the hardest thing you have ever had to do?  Breaking up with Gabie, and accepting the said breakup. Both were equally difficult things to overcome and I’m just happy to be out of that part of my life.

Germany - Do you have a hard time forgiving yourself?  Yes. It takes me a while, if at all.

Ghana - What is our favorite sport?  You mean mine? I like pro wrestling, if that counts.

Greece - Do you let others help you when in need? I do, but I have a hard time asking for help. < Yeah. I will accept help when I finally acknowledge that I need it; but getting to the acknowledgment part can take me a while.

Hungary - Who is the person you trust most?  Either of my best friends.

Hutt River - What is the most memorable dream or nightmare you have had?  Back when I was at a low point I used to have recurring dreams of my girlfriend at the time dying. It sucks for the fact that my most unforgettable dreams are nightmares and for the fact that they all involve her, lol.

Hong Kong - Do you fear death?  Not really. I fear dying in a way that I wouldn’t want to experience, but I don’t fear the actual concept of death.

Iceland - Do you hide your real personality? Why?  I hide some parts from people I don’t know all that well or I’m not that close with; like I obviously wouldn’t have crackhead vibes with my clients at work lol. But outside of that I pretty much act the same way around everyone.

India - How important is family to you?  Quite, but it’s not my be-all and end-all.

Japan - Tell us a secret about yourself.  I don’t really have any. I share everything on this blog, anyway.

Kenya - What is your favorite wild animal?  Elephants.

Korea - What is one thing you accomplished by yourself?  Shooting my shot and landing an internship, and eventually a permanent job, at a company I had no connections with, all while I was heavily depressed and wasn’t really doing anything else to take care of myself. 

Kugelmugel - Is there anyone you have a love-hate relationship with?  My mom and I bicker all the time, but she is my mom.

Latvia - Do you believe you are brave?  I guess so.

Ladonia - What is the internet site you visit most often?  I’d say either Twitter or Facebook.

Liechtenstein - How do people underestimate you most often?  I don’t know if I can answer this; people usually don’t.

Lithuania - Do you desire power?  No. That implies being in the spotlight, which I don’t crave at all.

Macau - What is your favorite festival or celebration?  Christmas, only for the huge amount of food I get to freely eat.

Molossia - Do you consider yourself strong?  Emotionally, yeah. Also what is Molossia?

Monaco - Do you think you are a lucky person?  Not a big believer of luck.

New Zealand - Would you rather be an elf, dwarf, Hobbit, or wizard?  None of these.

North Italy - What is your least favorite part of your personality?  There are some parts to my sensitivity that I don’t really like, like my tendency to overthink remarks that were actually meant to be harmless.

Norway - What was the most disappointing time in your life?  All that time I spent being hung up on Gab and desperately talking to her post-breakup, mostly because of how much I neglected myself then. She was working a night shift then and I remember keeping on waking up at like 1 AM and the first thing on my mind always being to message her and UGH it’s just so embarassing to think about now.

Netherlands - Most generous thing someone has done for you?  That one time Andi half-walked and half-took a trike back to UP at 11 PM after already having gotten home, just to retrieve something I forgot to bring home and was having a breakdown about. It was really embarassing and they bring it up every once in a while to tease me, but we have a good laugh about it now.

Poland - Hardest thing you have gone through?  The breakup and deaths in the family.

Prussia - Would you prefer to live forever or die alone?  Live forever I guess, because I have serious FOMO HAHAHA

Roman Empire - How would you like to be remembered?  Like what I said at the start of this survey, just as someone who had been kind.

Romania - What is something you are very ashamed of?  I don’t think there is anything.

Russia - Have you ever suffered from low self esteem? Do you still?  I used to. Not really anymore. I’m liking myself more these days.

Sealand - Who is your best friend?  Angela and Andi.

Seborga - What is your favorite beverage?  Water or coffee.

Seychelles - How do you handle people being rude to you?  Be mean back, but in a passive-aggressive way.

South Italy - What is your favorite part of your personality?  I like that I’m generous and that I can remember a lot of different small details about everyone.

Spain - What would you tell to the person or people you hurt most if you had a second chance?  That she was right, I ended up being happier without her; and that I hope she can finally sleep well knowing she was right, considering our whole relationship was pretty much built on her wanting to be right about everything.

Sweden - Are you a leader, follower, or independent?  Follower.

Switzerland - Would you consider yourself evil, good, or neutral?  Chaotic neutral.

Thailand - How good is your poker face?  I don’t even understand poker.

Tibet - What do you value most?  Friendships, and my happiness.

Taiwan - What do you think of the people or person who raised you?  Grateful.

Turkey - Would you ever want children?  That would be nice, in a few years.

Uganda - How would you like others to see you?  I answered this question like twice already. It still applies hahaha.

Ukraine - What is one thing that has made you stronger in life?  The difficulties I was able to overcome.

Vietnam - What is something you are proud of about yourself?  ^ Those.

Wy - What kind of art do you like?  Paintings and films.

Zimbabwe - Who is your favorite character from any folklore?  I don’t like folktales.

[legendaryjellyfishfest]

Thoughts on Komi-san Chapter 301

Well this chapter played out exactly how I figured it would, and I’m not surprised by that.  What I am surprised by is just how...deflated? I am by it.  How can I be shocked by something I saw coming a mile away?  And after sitting on it for a bit I realized why.  Spoilers for the recent chapter of Komi-san and eventually for the series Ichigo 100% (you’ll see why at the end).

Komi turned into one of my biggest pet peeves in the rom com genre.  The ‘passive love interest.’  I’m sure there’s a proper trope name, but that’s what I’ll be referring to it as though.  What I mean by ‘passive love interest’ is a character that doesn’t do anything in particular to garner the affections of another character.  They rather sustain the status quo they have than risk advancing the relationship.  There were point where I would have considered her a “semi-active’ love interest for Tadano.  The Valentines and white day chapters from their first year, and her “confession” during the play stand out.  But since that “confession” almost one hundred chapters ago Komi has consistently defaulted to letting Manbagi go first.

This is after so much of the manga has basically told us how “perfect” a couple Tadano and Komi are.  Remember early on with that tour guide giving the two of them the “Just get married already” line.  And so many of their 2nd year class already assume they’re going out, and go out of their way to pair them up like in the Cultural Festival play.  And to be meta about all this, the manga is named after Komi so of course she’s gonna end up winning.  So because it’s obvious she’s gonna win the author can afford to shift focus a bit, and let Manbagi get some development.

This is where it starts to annoy me.  Komi and Manbagi have had like three separate occasions reaffirming that the both of them will be equals in their pursuit of Tadano.  There was that one off “we suck at flirting” arc for the two of them,  but only Manbagi has tried to get Tadano to like her on her own in the mean time.  She tried multiple times to confess, each time giving Komi the heads up, but she held off for one reason or the other.  One of which was Komi panicking over it, leading to another ‘we said we’d be equals’ moment.

The last couple chapters are almost a microcosm of this in too. Komi fails to give Tadano, and only him, any chocolate on Valentines because she knows Manbagi is confessing most likely.  Manbagi musters all her courage to confess, but because she’s being super considerate to her friend she talks Tadano into realizing his feelings for Komi (for what also seems like the third time he’s done so).  Then Tadano goes off to confess to Komi.  I’m sure we’ll get a chapter explaining why Komi didn’t give him chocolate, and it will be exactly what I said.  And she’ll accept Tadano’s confession most likely.  Despite almost being a background character in her own manga when it comes to the romance aspect.

I’ve been reading these kinds of manga for so long now it’s just so frustrating to see Komi not ever be able to give Tadano chocolate on Valentines day (for the second time) after everything they’ve been through.  And I get it Komi is wracked with guilt because she thinks she’s taking advantage of Tadano’s kindness, and Tadano has horrifically low self esteem. But for it all to come at the cost of Manbagi’s own feelings despite her being so much more proactive just deflates me.

And because I don’t want to dwell on something negative I’m gonna take a moment to recommend something that essentially subverts the “passive love interest” conundrum.  Ichigo 100%.  To this day my favorite rom com because of how it ends.  First off I do want to say it’s a dated series in many ways, it ended almost 16 years ago now.  It can be very ecchi, it is a harem series, but as I’m going to expand on there were only ever two real options. Aya Tojo, and Tsukasa Nishino.

Aya is what I would call the passive love interest in this series.  She and the Mc, Junpei, get a long so well.  She’s the titular Ichigo that inspires Junpei to be a film maker in the beginning (it’ll make sense if you read it.).  Most importantly we’re told over and over how perfect they would be as a couple.  At one point there’s a romantic compatibility thing and the two of them are the only 100% match we see.  

Tsukasa on the other hand is the active love interest.  She’s the one Junpei mistakenly confesses to at the start, but through trial and error they find out they have compatibility too.  She breaks up with Junpei because she ends up going to a different high school, and because she too thinks Junpei and Aya would make a better couple.  And she honestly assumes they’re dating when she’s brought back into the story, even though Junpei and Aya never do date.  They even have a similar moment like the “Play Confession” in Komi-san where Tsukasa realizes that Aya is in love with Junpei.

Things culminate after a whole bunch of events where Tsukasa slowly falls for Junpei again, leading to her confessing to him the same exact way he did to her at the start of the manga. Junpei is more than happy to accept because at this point he’s also fallen in love with her for real. And basically the next chapter Aya finally finds the courage to confess, and it’s well and truly heartbreaking because everyone knows she was too late.  And I love this manga because of it. 

Hopefully my ramblings make sense.  I still love Komi-san as a manga, and I look forward to the next chapter.  It’s just after everything with Manbagi I felt like I needed to vent.

[chocolatequeennk]

Let it Snow, 1/5

A winter adventure takes a turn when the Doctor and Rose are snowed in together in a remote cabin in the woods.

Ten x Rose, set just after New Earth

This is for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas. Day 1: Snowed In

AO3 | FF.NET

Chapter 1: Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful

The Doctor cast Rose surreptitious glances as he slowly circled the console, tapping dials as he went. He didn’t see any obvious signs that Lady Cassandra’s possession was still bothering her, but still… He didn’t want to throw them into danger just yet.

Rose hopped up on the jump seat and swung her feet. “Where are we going today?”

“Your choice,” he said. “Where would you like to go? We could go to a concert or watch the moon landing, or there’s a famous market on an asteroid… Anywhere you want, Rose Tyler.”

Rose arched an eyebrow, and he tugged on his ear in response. Of course she knew something was up, but he didn’t have to tell her what it was.

She rolled her eyes, then tilted her head back against the seat back. “Anywhere I want?” she repeated, testing him.

“Absolutely anywhere,” he promised.

“What if I want to tour the most famous pear orchard in the galaxy?”

He flinched, then nodded gamely. “Anywhere,” he promised. Just please don’t choose that.

Rose giggled, almost as if she’d heard that thought. “Nah, I won’t do that to you,” she promised. She tapped her finger against her chin, and a little wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.

Finally, when the Doctor thought he was going to burst from impatience, she grinned. “Could we go someplace with snow?” she requested. “Actual, proper snow—not ash.”

The Doctor rocked back on his heels and pressed his tongue against his teeth. “Snow isn’t much of an adventure,” he mused. “Unless…” He bounced on his toes and grinned at Rose. “How about a full-fledged winter holiday, just like you see in the movies?”

Rose’s answering grin sent a spark of electricity through the Doctor. “You mean, a cabin in the woods where we sit in front of a fireplace and watch snowflakes float lazily from the sky? And having snowball fights and building snowmen and going ice skating?”

“Oh yes!” the Doctor crowed.

“Sounds perfect,” Rose agreed.

She hopped up on the jump seat and watched the Doctor dance around the console, spinning dials and sliding levers into place. This Doctor was still so new, but he was also still so familiar.

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Just you wait—this will be the best winter holiday you’ve ever had, Rose Tyler.”

Rose shivered when he said her name. His new voice just… wrapped around the long o in a way that she felt down to her toes.

She fought back the urge to snog him. “Well that won’t be very hard,” she drawled. “Seeing how I’ve never had a winter holiday.”

The Doctor gasped. “Never? Well then, prepare to have all your fantasies fulfilled.”

It just wasn’t fair of him to say things like that, Rose mused. And especially not when he added that saucy grin and a teasing wink.

He’s an alien, remember, she reminded herself. Maybe he doesn’t even realise what he’s saying.

Still… She remembered a dance in a hospital and a different voice insisting that he was actually a man.

“You should go change,” the Doctor said, breaking into her musings. “And I imagine the TARDIS will have a suitcase waiting for you, too.”

The ship hummed, and Rose patted the nearest strut. Thanks, old girl, she told the ship as she walked back to her room.

Twenty minutes later, they were walking hand in hand through fairy tale streets. “And Librell is one of the best places in the galaxy to experience that Hollywood winter,” the Doctor rambled. “Beautifully stable climate, and a travel industry centred around snow festivals and etc.”

“So where are we going?” Rose asked. She turned a circle, looking at the marketplace in front of her. “I mean, we’re in the middle of a town, and that’s not exactly the image I had in mind.”

The Doctor tutted. “Oh ye of little faith,” he chided. “While you were getting dressed, I reserved the stereotypical snug cottage deep in the woods. But to get us there…” He nodded in the direction of the end of the street.

Rose turned around and gasped. A sled was waiting for them, with a horse hitched and ready to go.

“The full holiday experience,” the Doctor said smugly.

Rose was too amazed to talk as they got into the sled. The Doctor wrapped a blanket around their legs, and then the driver snapped the reins and they took off.

“How far out of town is the cabin?” she asked the Doctor.

“About ten kilometres,” the driver said. Rose looked up at him, a short man wearing a knit cap pulled low over his ears. “It’ll take us a good few hours to get there, so get comfortable.” He passed a jug over his shoulder. “This will keep you warm.”

Rose opened the flagon and inhaled the warm scent of spiced wine. “Oh, lovely,” she sighed. She took a sip and then snuggled down into the blankets to enjoy the ride.

The wind whipped at her face as they drove, and Rose’s cheeks and nose were frosty before the end of the first hour. She drank more of the wine and then tugged her scarf up until only her eyes were uncovered.

After two hours, she started actively looking for their cottage. Finally, she thought she spotted a tendril of smoke lifting up into the sky, and she held her hand up over her eyes to block the glare of the sun.

The road took a wide bend around a hill, and when they came to the other side, Rose saw a small cottage nestled back into the trees. “Is that it?” she asked, standing up halfway to get a better view.

“Yep!” The driver turned off the main road onto the lane. “Our best house. The kitchen is fully stocked, and my partner came out earlier to start a fire.”

Rose spotted the large front windows and hummed. “Perfect for watching the snow fall,” she told the Doctor.

The sled pulled up in front of the door, and she and the Doctor got out. The driver opened the door and handed the key over to the Doctor. “I’ll be back in a week to pick you up. If you run into any emergencies, there’s a phone in the kitchen. My number is taped to the wall next to it.”

The Doctor shouldered his way into the cabin and set their bag down just inside the door. “Thank you!” he told the driver, a wide grin stretched across his face. “I can’t imagine we’ll need to call for anything. We are here for an adventure after all, right Rose?”

Rose laughed. “That’s right,” she agreed. “The full winter experience.”

The driver raised an eyebrow. “All right then,” he said, walking back to the sled. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Rose waved at him, then followed the Doctor into the cabin. He stood in the middle of the small living room and waved at the cosy space. “Well, what do you think?”

Before looking around, she took off her hat, scarf, and gloves and set them on the kitchen table. Then she turned and took in the living room.

The Doctor pointed at the large stone fireplace on the opposite wall. “Imagine the crackling fire, maybe roasting some marshmallows while we watch the snow fall.”

Rose swallowed. That sounded a bit… romantic. Actually. Now that she thought about it, the whole winter holiday idea sounded a bit romantic. And the fact that the only seating in the room was a cosy love seat certainly didn’t make it any less romantic.

Oh bloody hell Rose Tyler, what have you done?

The Doctor was watching her hopefully, and she shoved aside her momentary panic. “It’s exactly what I pictured,” she told him. “And look at that television! I bet we can get By the Light of the Asteroid!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You are obsessed with that soap.”

“Well it was you that introduced me to it, so you only have yourself to blame!” she retorted.

The Doctor made a happy sound in the back of his throat, and it took Rose a moment to realise what she’d just said. It had been him—but it had been the old him, the one in leather.

“Well it was,” she grumbled, giving him a smile.

“Yes, yes it was.” He bounced on his toes and then pointed at the closed door. “Let’s see what we have in here.”

Rose reached the door first and pushed it open. The bedroom was just as cosy as the living room—and just as much meant for two people. She stared at the plush queen bed in the middle of the room.

“What is it?” the Doctor said. She felt him lean through the door and look over her shoulder.

Rose could almost hear him blink as he processed what he was looking at.

“Ah. There’s only one bed. And… I doubt there’s a second bedroom.”

She felt his arm shift and knew he was tugging at his ear. It surprised her to realise she knew so many of his tells already. This new Doctor was quickly becoming just… the Doctor, one she knew and… and cared about just as much as she had her old Doctor.

“There’s not a second bedroom because…”

She turned around and looked at the Doctor.

“Because I told the app I was looking for a house for two.”

Rose had to laugh at the sheepish look on his face. “And it didn’t occur to you that if you said you wanted a holiday house for two, the program would assume you meant a couple?” she guessed.

“Well I’ve never been part of a couple,” he retorted.

The way he said it made her breath catch in her throat for a second, but Rose forced herself to relax. He wasn’t saying he was part of a couple now—just that his lack of experience led to this particular thing.

His next words proved it. “Anyway, I don’t really sleep,” he said. “I can just sit in the living room and read all night, while you sleep the day away.”

Rose stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be able to say there’s no night on a time machine when we are actually on a planet,” she reminded him.

The Doctor swallowed a sigh. Rose wasn’t arguing with his offer to sleep on the love seat, and he was honestly a little disappointed. Not that… not that he’d done this on purpose, or even was certain he wanted to share a bed with her. Well, he knew he wanted to share a bed with her, he just wasn’t sure it was wise.

But regardless of desire or wisdom on his part, it would have been nice to see a little bit of interest on her face. He shook his head and quickly carried out the rest of the tour. He was eager to dispel some of the awkwardness, and he knew exactly how to do that.

As soon as they saw the kitchen, dining room, and the loo, he grabbed Rose’s hand and dragged her towards the door. “Come on!” he said.

Rose resisted, just a little. “Let me put my things back on,” she said. She grabbed her hat, gloves, and scarf from the table and quickly pulled them all on. “There, I’m ready. Let’s go have this winter adventure.”

The Doctor beamed at her, then ran out the door. “The first order of business is a snowman contest,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Like, we each build a snowman and the best one wins?” Rose asked.

The Doctor bounced slightly and nodded his head, and Rose started laughing. “And who is going to judge this contest, when we’re the only ones here?”

The Doctor sniffed. “I’ll have you know I can be a very impartial judge when the situation calls for it,” he said.

Rose shook her head, but she bent down and started packing snow together. “Yeah, all right,” she agreed. “It’ll be fun, even if the contest does end in a draw.”

“You know you’re admitting that you would be a biased judge,” the Doctor informed her. He squatted down in the snow facing the opposite direction and started working.

“At least I’m being honest,” she retorted.

He didn’t really have an answer for that, so he focused on his work. This had to be the absolute best snowman ever built, so that even Rose would have to vote for it.

He rolled snow into a single, giant ball. From there, his work little resembled building a snowman. He spent more time carving out snow and packing some onto other spots than he did rolling balls and using sticks to create limbs. Finally, he stepped back and nodded, satisfied with his creation.

“Are you done over here?” Rose asked. “Ooh, you made a snow Boe,” she said, immediately recognising the alien they’d met twice now.

“Yep!”

The Doctor brushed some excess snow off the front of the ‘glass.’ “What did you make?”

Rose bit her lip. “I… well, come see.”

He turned around and walked with her to her snow creation. The gasp, followed by a stunned silence, were all she needed.

“A snow TARDIS?” he said. “We said snowman, though. Or snow person.”

He sounded a little choked up, but when Rose looked at him, his eyes were dry.

She reached out and touched the door. “Well… she is a person, isn’t she? Maybe not quite like you or me, but she’s so real. I love it when she talks to me.”

The Doctor blinked and stared at her. “When she… You can understand her?” he demanded.

Rose nodded. “Yeah… I have ever since…”

She let the sentence dangle, but they both knew how it ended. At least, they both knew part of the story. Rose pursed her lips when she remembered that he still hadn’t told her the full story of what had happened on the Game Station. The last thing she remembered was staring into the TARDIS console and seeing a stream of gold light float around her. Then she woke up on the grating and he was dying.

The Doctor swallowed hard. Rose had not been telepathic before Bad Wolf. He was almost certain of it. Part of him wanted to call up the driver and ask to be taken home immediately so he could run tests on her. If Bad Wolf had changed that part of her, who knew what else had happened.

But this was a holiday, he reminded himself. And really, the TARDIS did talk, so why was it so shocking and distressing that Rose could understand her?

He shook his head. “We’ll come back to that later,” he said, more to himself than to her. “But for now…”

He looked at his giant face made out of snow and then back at Rose’s snow TARDIS. Truthfully, his creation was more intricate. But Rose’s… Rose’s was more meaningful.

“You win.”

oOoOo

The light was already fading when Rose spotted the first snowflake. “Oh, brilliant.” She stuck her tongue out and caught it.

“What’s so brilliant about it?” the Doctor asked. “By which I mean, you’ve been playing in the snow for all day. I’d think the novelty would have worn off by now.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’ve been playing in the snow,” she said, gesturing at the trampled snow. “And there’s not much left to play in, because we’ve either built snowmen or made snowballs or just stomped it down with our boots. This is fresh snow, Doctor.”

He leaned back and looked at the sky. “And lots of it,” he observed. Snow was falling steadily now. “Come on, let’s go inside and watch this through the window. Wasn’t that one of the things you wanted? Sitting next to a fireplace and watching the snow fall?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Ten minutes later, they were sitting cosily on the love seat, cocoa in hand. Not for the first time, Rose cursed the owners of this cabin. Only one bed, only a love seat… Sure it was a tiny cabin, but that didn’t mean that it would always be rented by a couple. Sitting here with her shoulder brushing against the Doctor’s every time either of them moved their arm made it hard to… it just made it hard.

She shifted her cocoa to her left hand so she wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid, like rest it on his knee. The quiet was giving her brain too much time to think and worry, so she cast about for something to talk about.

She found it, resting on the coffee table in front of them. “You have penguin socks,” she said, staring at the bright blue socks with a dancing penguins pattern.

The Doctor wiggled his toes. “Yep! It’s fun to be thematically appropriate.” He looked at her seriously. “You should always match your socks to your day.”

Rose shook her head. “You’re barmy.”

“I am not!” He pointed at her feet. “Look, you’ve got on thick, fuzzy socks. Perfect for lounging around in a cosy cabin during a snow storm.”

“Yeaaaaah…” Rose drawled. “They’re perfect for the weather, not for the theme of the day.”

The Doctor sniffed. “I’d argue that there’s not much of a difference at the moment.”

Rose tilted her head, silently acknowledging his point. The teasing had relieved some of the tension, and they settled back into quiet, watching the big, fluffy snowflakes fall past the window.

The snow didn’t stop all evening. In fact, it just kept coming harder and harder as they made dinner and settled back in the living room to watch reruns of By the Light of the Asteroid.

Rose went to bed earlier than she normally would, a little tired from all the physical exertion earlier in the day. She normally had a hard time falling asleep without the hum of the TARDIS surrounding her, but the stillness of the snowfall seemed to quiet her mind just as well.

A harsh whistling woke her up some time later. She lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to place the sound. Finally, curiosity drove her to get up, leaving behind the soft, cosy covers to investigate.

The air was chillier than it had been, and she pulled on the thick dressing gown she’d brought before leaving her room. The faint glow of firelight told her the Doctor was still awake, though she hadn’t really expected him to sleep on that love seat.

The sound accompanied her into the living room, and she understood it as soon as she joined the Doctor by the window. What had been soft snowfall had turned into a sheet of white swirling around the house.

“Bit of a storm,” he said.

Rose rolled her eyes. “It’s a blizzard, Doctor. A proper blizzard.”

The Doctor tugged on his ear. “Well… I suppose.”

They stared out at the literal white-out conditions for a few more minutes, and then he said, “This changes our perfect winter holiday a bit. We certainly aren’t going out in that.”

Rose snorted. “Definitely not. I don’t fancy getting lost in the snow and dying of hypothermia. That was not part of those holiday movies we talked about.”

To her surprise, the Doctor spun around, a wide smile on his face. “But don’t worry,” he said. “I have a plan for this.”

Despite the smile, Rose saw the uncertainty in his eyes. She slid her arm around his waist and gave him a half-hug. “I know—” A yawn interrupted her sentence. “I know you do,” she said.

The Doctor returned Rose’s half-hug, hoping she felt his gratitude in the gesture. Rose always rolled with the unpredictability of their life, so he’d known she wouldn’t be upset. But the level of trust she gave him would always humble him.

She yawned again, and he chuckled and gently nudged her towards the bedroom. “Go back to bed. I’ll have everything ready in the morning.” He watched her shuffle down the hallway before turning back the window.

A feeling of inevitability swirled around him just as much as the snow swirled around the house. When he’d suggested a winter adventure, he hadn’t anticipated a blizzard. Now instead of enjoying all kinds of outdoor winter fun, he and Rose would be snowed in together.

It’s like something out of a Hallmark movie. The Doctor raked his hand through his hair. The hero and heroine end up at a remote cabin in the woods, and then the snow begins to fall…

He swallowed hard. He remembered what usually came next in those movies. The forced proximity created intimacy which led to… feelings rising to the surface.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t have… feelings. He had given a regeneration for her, and his feelings for her had shaped the man he became.

But he didn’t know… He glanced down the hallway towards the bedroom. He was pretty sure Rose had had feelings for his past self. He hadn’t yet sussed out how she felt about this him. Did she know this new, new Doctor was still the old Doctor who… had feelings?

She had asked him to change back. Every time he thought about making a move, he remembered the painful blow of that rejection and changed course. He wanted some kind of sign that she wanted this him before he made any overtures.

“Still,” he muttered, keeping his voice low to not wake Rose up, “the universe has dropped us into the middle of a soppy romance. Maybe that’s the sign I need.”

And with the storm howling outside, the Doctor sat down and plotted the perfect snowed-in day.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 3.3 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

3. OLD BUDDY

Aoki’s 1000 IQ mind is hinted at here

Also what are the main tags for this fandom???

Translation Notes

1. Pun on Oda’s name. Here the “Shin” is 神 (god) instead of “伸” which is the first kanji in Oda’s first name

2. Okuma’s name 大隈 shares the same pronunciation as 大熊 which means “big bear”

3. The 伸 in Oda’s first name means “lengthen” or “extend”

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“Odaaaa! I’m beggin’ you, play futsal. You can definitely be in the amateur bracket on a pro level.”

“Odacchi! Why aren’t you doing softball? You’re even more reliable than our regular shortstop. Oh, don’t be so modest. I’m not kissing your ass. What’s the point of that?”

“Oda, why volleyball of all things?”

“You don’t have to play volleyball.”

“Oda! No, Oda-Shin!” (1)

The seasons changed, and it was now midway through June. In this rainy season, Oda shook off the group of male scouts who were wearing mud-stained uniforms and jerseys and hot on his heels, and took refuge in the student council room. It sounded good for those who called it a June tradition, but for those who were targeted, it was just a dirty thing.

“I’m comin’ in. Let me hide out a little here.”

Aoki, who seemed too tall for his own good as he tucked himself on a folding chair and stared at documents, looked up. The sign reading “Vice President” stood on one corner of the desks arranged in a square.

“Oh. I can hear it from all the way in here. You’re a popular guy.”

“The member list has already been turned in. I don’t know if they’ve been told by now. Even if they didn’t, I don’t feel like doing anything other than volleyball.”

“Well, no need to be so hard on them. You should be happy that they value you so much.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it…I only dabbled with soccer and baseball in gym. I seriously don’t know why people are giving me so much credit.”

“Is that different from not being aware of your own ability?”

“If it’s volleyball ability, I’m more than aware of it.”

Hearing such a servile and submissive line from himself, he immediately regretted it right after he said it. Aoki was silent for only a moment while looking down at the papers.

“…Did you see who will be participating in volleyball? A whole bunch of stuff came out just now.”

He changed the topic, acting as though he hadn’t heard anything. I’m never a match for how he reads too much into things.

He pulled up the chair that was diagonally across from Aoki, the corner of the desk between them. In addition to him, there were only a pair of underclassmen officers sitting in the corner working on something.

The main event organized by the student council in the first semester, the Seiin Ballgame Festival, was coming in two weeks. The boys’ volleyball team were futilely eliminated from prefecturals at the beginning of the month, and the road to Inter-High and Nationals had just closed. Another one of the three major national championships was the “Spring Inter-High Volleyball” in January. The ballgame tournament during this period was by all rights nothing but a nuisance to their club activities, because they had to restart immediately to prepare for the prefectural qualifiers in September, right after summer vacation.

But for this year, he felt that this cushion was appreciated. He was practicing as usual, but he couldn’t quite switch gears. The handout distributed in class right after the prefecturals was undoubtedly one of the reasons. He had stuffed that handout with the title “Second Future Course Survey” into his locker without filling it in.

“It’s gonna be interesting this year.”

Aoki was handed a clipboard that holding several sheets of paper. It was the list of names for each event in the ballgame tournament.

“The ones with the double circles are pros.”

“Pro” of course didn’t mean pro athletes. It was the internal term for this ballgame tournament that referred to those who belonged to the corresponding sports club for each event. The maximum number of pros was set at three people for each team. The antonym of pro was “amateur”, and those who had experience in middle school or dropped out of their clubs were sometimes called “semi-pro.”

Classes A to F were divided vertically through the grades for a total of six teams. A supreme general would be nominated from the third-years of each team, and they would compete for overall victory with the total points from all the events. Since the captains of the main sports clubs were luckily scattered across the different classes, it was an event that got somewhat heated with the power struggles between the sports clubs.

He viewed the boys’ volleyball participant roster in order, starting from Team A. Team A didn’t have the double circle—for softball and futsal, where there were many qualifying members, there was competition among the members for the pro slots, but sadly for their division, they actually fell short of the number of slots.

“Oh, B’s got a killing.”

Team B also didn’t have any double circles, but when he looked at the remarks column, he saw that there was an awful lot of rugby team members. “So, are these remarks self-reported?” “No, the executive committee collected it, but the tally was a bit late.” “You’re spending a lot of energy on unnecessary things.” “You think so? Information gathering is fun, though.” In the remarks column, in addition to the current club the student belonged to, information such as their club activities in middle school and outstanding results in the school physical fitness test were added. If one were to see this list without knowing Aoki’s character, one might be a bit horrified.

The rugby player called Okuma of Class 2-B had a face and name that matched (he thought it was “大熊” (2), but he guessed those were the actual characters). At the level of a ballgame tournament, just having a big guy in front of the net was effective to some extent. Three rugby players over 180 centimeters in the front row might be a rather formidable opponent.

Next, Team C had three double circles in a row—3-C’s Aoki Misao ◎, 2-C’s Kanno Akito ◎, and 1-C’s Kuroba Yuni ◎.

“…What’s with this bias? Isn’t this all-star team against the rules?”

“It’s no more than three. That’s not against the rules.” Aoki said carefreely. “It’s just a coincidence that there are three people in C class this year. I didn’t manipulate that, so I don’t need you complaining about it.” Isn’t that an implicit admission that he manipulated in the other cases?

“Well, worst case scenario, I might drop out. I also got work on the management side. I’ll leave it to Kanno to cover for Kuroba.”

“Don’t drop out. It’ll be boring without you.”

When Oda said that without missing a beat, Aoki looked at him with slightly widened eyes. That unconcerned attitude of Aoki’s always irritated him for an instant.

“It’ll be interesting…We’ll definitely beat you.”

He declared provocatively. Aoki smirked from the corner of his mouth.

“We’re not going to go easy on you, you know?”

“Of course. If you hold back even just a little bit, then I’m never going to talk to you again.”

“Aw, come on, give me a break.”

Aoki was 193 centimeters, Kanno was 181 centimeters, and Kuroba was 184 centimeters. Oda remembered everyone’s numbers, which were filled out on the entry sheet for the most recent tournament. Aoki, who would undoubtedly be the tallest of all the participants in the boys’ volleyball division, was the center, and Kanno, who had a good balance between offense and defense, was placed on the side. Kuroba was still quite inconsistent and capricious, but as long as he went with the flow, he would display outstanding offensive power.

The ballgame tournament was like an escape for his feelings, and he was more of a passive participant than anything, but…he was getting a bit excited. For a small club with eight members, they could do a four-to-four minigame at most, not being able to do a proper intragroup game. Even if it included amateurs, under the rules of a proper six-person system, they can compete with that lineup. There was no other opportunity like this.

The problem was the strength of his own team, but if they had someone who they could use even just a little…he skimmed past the next two teams, D and E, to finally reach the F team he would be leading. At the top of the list was Oda Shinichiro ◎ of 3-F. About four people were chosen from each grade below, but there were no double circles besides Oda. Compared to Team C, he couldn’t help but feel discouraged.

“…Haijima?”

That name was there.

Haijima Kimichika of 1-F. He of course didn’t have the double circle.

When he looked up from the list, Aoki nodded as if to say you finally noticed that? It seemed that this was the climax of “it’s gonna be interesting.”

“I didn’t think he’d choose volleyball. Wonder what brought that on. He’s been running away from you ever since that thing happened.”

“He’s not running away from me, and wasn’t that thing because of your assault?”

“I told you, it wasn’t assault. I was just telling him to be a little more careful about how he should speak to third-years.”

“With your foot?”

“Well, the foot was unintentional.” What’s the definition of assault where you do that and don’t call it assault?

After the incident in early April of the new school year in which Aoki kicked Haijima’s butt hard, every time they happened to catch sight of each other in school, Haijima was the one who acted casual…From our point of view, it’s blatantly obvious that he’s changing his route and escaping. He was big, so he could be recognized immediately even from a distance, but he wondered if he didn’t know he stood out. If you’re just unconsciously enjoying the benefits of that height, give it to me…He thought. Even here, his desire as a captain to have Haijima on the team and his personal feelings of jealousy mixed with each other.

The first practice day for Team F was next Monday. After one week of team practice, the ballgame tournament would arrive.

“I wonder if he’s gonna come.” What kind of face would he have if he came?

“Well, he might be the type who shamelessly comes with a face that says ‘My friend signed me up for an audition without asking me.’”

“Oi oi, that’s harsh…”

Contrary to his gentle appearance, Aoki had quite a sharp tongue. According to him, he had a principle of not holding back what he wanted to say and not doing what he didn’t want to do. But if you asked Oda, there was a part of him that thought, Is that so? Are you saying everything you wanted to say to me?

“…Hey, you already handed that in, right? The future course thing…”

Even if he thought it was better to think about it later, it got stuck in his head for a long time. There were invisible pebbles strewn about. It felt like those pebbles were plugging up the holes where energy was spouting out from.

Since it was the second future course survey, there was a first one as well, but at that time there was only the choices of literature or science and national or private schools. However, this time there was a column for writing your specific university of choice. For the time being, since this was a university prep school, there was hardly anyone who chose to find a job or go to a vocational school.

There was a pause, as though the sudden topic had caught him off guard, but Aoki’s tone didn’t change when he opened his mouth.

“Oh, not yet. I haven’t decided yet.”

It was a shock to be lied to. You were the one who already handed it in. I asked while knowing it, actually.

However, all he said was, “…I see. Well, you’ve still got time.”

The rumor had also spread to Oda’s class. First choice, the Kyoto University’s faculty of law—Apparently, there was someone who peeked at Aoki’s handout that had been handed into the staff room. Who would have thought it’d be Kyodai? He was shocked that he was that smart. No, I knew that, but still.

It was at that time that he had the belated realization that until that point, he almost never talked to Aoki about anything other than volleyball. We’ve seen each other almost every day for more than two years, so isn’t that pretty weird? In the first place, volleyball was the only thing they had in common. Except volleyball, their interests didn’t intersect at all (to be precise, volleyball was Oda’s only interest). Oda only ever brought up volleyball and never asked Aoki what his interests were, or what he wanted to do in the future.

I mean, Kyodai? Supposing that we won the prefectural representative rights for Spring Inter-High, you couldn’t retire until the main tournament in January. Even if you studied for the entrance exam in your spare time while you’re not doing club activities, will you be able to get into law school at Kyoto University? ——He only thought those things and couldn’t say it aloud. Because, what would he do if Aoki announced that he was going to prioritize entrance exams and retire? He probably couldn’t see him out quietly. He felt like imposing his own convenience and telling that he couldn’t retire because they barely had enough members. No, I’m sure Aoki will prolong his retirement as long as he can and stick with me. But, that only increased his debt to him.

Hey, how do you feel about being stuck with me? If you take away volleyball, then I’m just a boring person.

“Hey, do you…enjoy being with me?”

“What?”

He sounded half-crazy, as expected. He felt like it was an extremely sissy question and wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Ah…what’s wrong, Shin? You’re acting weird.”

“Weird?”

Apparently, it was weird for him to worry about anything other than volleyball. Even he himself thought so. As far as his path after high school was concerned, he could cite a number of intercollegiate powerhouse universities he was interested in as long as it was volleyball-related. But he was at a loss as soon as he stepped away from volleyball. He wondered if he lost in the Spring Inter-High qualifiers and retired, he would finally have to find something else he wanted to do, and though it was impossible to assume that they would fail the qualifiers, the idle thought flashed across his mind. Though he still only wanted to think about volleyball right now, his mind was too distracted to focus on one thing. If anything, the time when he couldn’t only think about volleyball has arrived.

Bzzzz, the seat of the chair beneath Aoki started vibrating. “Mm, ‘scuse me,” Aoki put his hand on his behind. His hand that was as long and thin as his physique operated his phone.

“Geh, a summons text from the president. I gotta go.”

“I’m going back too. Sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.”

“Yeah, but our conversation—”

“No, no, it’s done.”

He didn’t think he was convinced, but Aoki didn’t try to dig in any further, putting his phone away and got up as Oda stood. When they stood in a line, Aoki’s shoulders would be what was in his line of sight. It was somewhat easier when they were looking at each other, but the fact that he had become accustomed to the gap in their lines of sight made him feel mixed feelings in its own way.

Oda was 163 centimeters tall. The difference in height between him and Aoki was exactly twenty centimeters. The gap hadn’t been filled at all since he entered high school. He sometimes hated that his parents really named him Shinichiro. (3)

163 centimeters was barely taller than the average height of a typical girl, and while having a small build meant having a small build, he wasn’t extremely small. In other sports, there were plenty of male athletes in the 160 centimeter range who flourished in international competitions.

But for a volleyball player, and furthermore for an attacker, it was a fatally insufficient height. Even if he could manage it in high school, it would never work beyond university. He hadn’t told anyone yet that he was going to play volleyball until high school, but he was seeing the end in himself.

Why volleyball of all things?

But…there’s only one reason for that, isn’t there?

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