#but like having them on hand as pdf's could have held me over for a bit longer

[seth-the-giggle-fish]

I've been doing a lot of paperwork and back end business stuff for my etsy shop while trying to avoid doing homework for my business degree

brain why are you like this???

[lawqual1ty]

Burn out... (FEM! Trafalgar Law x FEM! Reader)

Pov: College can sure take a toll on anyone, especially when exams come around the corner. Your roommate however tries her best to be your biggest supporter even though she's quite dense on how to do so...

I wrote this on a whim while trying to get my stress levels down a bit due to my exams so... Expect a lot of errors--

Warning: Curse words, Lesbians, burn out and stress symptoms (reader), mild flashbacks (Law), College scenario, fluuuuff I need female Law to comfort me okay??, A bit of Ooc Law? I'm not sure. Law calls you a raccoon--

College is the most magical chapter of your life, they said... Enjoy every part of it while it lasts, they said...

Those words resounded in your brain like some sort of non-breakable chant as you read and re-read the PDF the teacher had sent you over to study... It was long and filled with intricate words that you struggled to understand... It made your whole entire system feel dizzy as you stared at the screen of your tiny laptop, almost dumbfounded.

"I'm hungry..." You muttered in annoyance.

"Ugh God dammit!" You let out a loud groan as you roughly held onto your hair, luckily you were sitting on your bed of your tiny rented room so your fall backwards was rather safe, your hair fell backwards as you groaned in annoyance... Did you really have to wait until the last minute to study...? Did you really have to be so persistent on getting a better grade than last time...? Why did everyone define this as the best phase of your life...? If this was the best part you didn't even want to begin to imagine what the rest of your life would be like. You were tired, too sleepy to process another equation but too stressed to take at least a single wink of sleep, not that you could either way since, well... Tomorrow morning you would have to go to class all over again and sleeping would only make time pass faster. You bury your face into your hands, lifting your glasses up a bit, a soft groan escaping your lips before silence surrounded your room...

Before you knew it you had stood up from your bed and walked out of your room and over to the kitchen.

The small house you lived in was rather cozy; your room was located in the basement which gave you a clear access to the kitchen, you only had to climb up a pair of stairs and you were greeted by a small living room to your right and the kitchen to your left, it was perfect for long nights such as these in which you only needed to serve yourself a small cup of coffee and some pancakes (since they had been your basic night diet for the past week or two...), especially considering the fact that since you were so close you wouldn't have to wake up either of your roommates.

Their rooms were upstairs, far away from you and your annoyed at the world and your decisions ass. You rented a room with two other girls; One you had only passed by a couple of instances since she mostly hung out with her friends and even sometimes went to sleep over to their house, if you were to describe her you would say she was like a hurricane of sunlight in some way... She was cheerful and energetic and always had that characteristic strawhat that made her stand out just with a single glance, you had only interacted with her a few times but when you did you couldn't help but smile dropping an occasional laugh or two. She was cheerful and you could appreciate that occasionally. You turned to look up at where her room was only to realize her light was turned off... A soft sigh escaped your lips, a wave of relief washing over you as you realized that she won't be stealing any of your food this time around.

You looked around once more, your eyes falling into your other roommates room... Oh yes, you couldn't forget about the other one, although, she was even more rare to see than the prior. You had definitely interacted with her more but it was still on certain occasions, heck you could even count them with your fingers and it would fit. She was the first one to get here, even before you, and her tired gaze and demeanor made you realize immediately that she was not someone you wanted to get in the way of... She was cold, sharp and analytical; although there were occasions in which that all came crashing down and you have managed to witness that more than once much to your luck...

As you stared up into her turned on light you wondered what would go down if she came down to the kitchen with you inside it... Would she argue with you about how much longer she's been up than you? Or will she just ask why are you still awake and head off once you made her a mug of your characteristically strong coffee? You let out a soft amused huff before shaking those thoughts away, only she knew if she would come down... It all depended on how drowned out in studying she was: it wasn't up to you.

Since she was a medicine student it was rather obvious she had the most stress out of the three, you being a criminology student was in the middle, you had ran into her in your occasional ransacks into the kitchen looking for something to keep you awake and functional as you tried to Speedrun all your investigation papers, since your work groups had rarely managed to do shit right in the first place. Occasionally, you would chat about meaningless things; starting out with a quick "hey..." And following it up with a "why are you still awake...?" Making the conversations evolve from that point onward. She introduced herself as Trafalgar Law but told you you could just call her Law if you'd like to which you agreed since well... you found it a tad bit rude to call someone by their full name, even if you had just met 'em. You would catch glimpses of her softer side, noticing just why she had decided to study medicine in the first place, she was a sweet gal' underneath that cold exterior; that however didn't take off her snarky remarks nor her anger when she talked about some incompetent classmate in her class, to which you usually reluctantly agreed sometimes due to your own experiences. Your relationship with Law was... Unique to say the least, although you two got along you would sometimes get into banter out of who cleaned up or your grades even though you were completely different majors, it resulted in some rather tense yet fun moments between you two, although, mostly there were more calm moments than heated ones.

You walked into the kitchen and opened your cupboard to take out your coffee. You took a few spoonfuls and placed them into the filter of the coffee machine, the soft scent of the coffee grind already helping you to wake up a bit. You hummed softly as you walked up to the sink to get some water into the machine.

Unbeknownst to you, on the upper side of the house a black haired girl let out a tired yawn as her gaze was fixed on her computer. The accumulated sleepiness of several days with a wink of rest was finally catching up to her as she tried to read the document on the screen of her laptop. She squinted her eyes, her vision getting blurry due to how sleep deprived she was; frustration made her let out a groan as she leaned back on her chair, her hands ran through her hair making it even more of a mess than what it was already... She couldn't concentrate at all.

"four cups should do..." You muttered to yourself as you poured the needed water into the machine, clearly oblivious to your surroundings.

Her brows perked up as she realized she wasn't the only one awake. It was around 12:12 pm when she headed out of her room and noticed the kitchen light on together with the light to your room in the basement reflecting onto the small living room, You were also awake, the faintest scent of coffee coming from the kitchen confirming her suspicions. Unbeknownst to her, a small smile crept its way to her lips as she headed down the stairs... Almost as if the sweet scent of your coffee mixed with your characteristic humming pulled her into the kitchen, a magnetism only you had on her.

"Fuck..." She cursed under her breath, both out of respect for you and your other roommate and out of tiredness, she didn't have the strength to even yell out but if she slept she definitely wasn't going to pass, why did she decide to study this again...? She looked up at the ceiling, the slightest glimpse of her family coming back to her... Her lips parted slightly before smiling gently to herself.

"I better wake up..." She muttered under her breath as she slowly got up from her chair and onto the main hallway.

You were so focused on your duty at hand that you didn't realize a tall dark haired girl was leaning against the door frame, staring at you... Pondering on how long exactly it would take you to realize she was there. Sooner rather than later you quickly turned around and almost yelled out when you saw her, she had to hold back a laugh at how scared you seemed just by her unexpected presence alone.

"HOLY-- LAW!" A soft snort could be heard from her.

"Hey..." Her half husky yet sweet voice greeted you in a very nonchalant way, almost as if she didn't regret how she had scared you even one bit. A pout could be visible in your pursed lips.

"A warning would have been nice..." You mumbled under your breath as you turned around to turn on the coffee machine, the familiar sound of a beep showing you it was already on and ready to make the coffee you two very much needed. She let out a low chuckle, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at you.

"Even if I had warned you, you were too focused on your own shit to actually take it seriously..." Her playful words only made you pout as you turned around to face her.

"Shut up!" You exclaimed almost in a yelp which was rather amusing to Law "Warn me still! Or did you want to scare me that badly...?"

Your question only made her shrug, fueling your frustration up a notch... Although you couldn't quite exactly stay mad at her for long, you were too tired for that. A soft sigh escaped your lips, you leaned against the counter a reaction that caught Law's attention immediately; Sure, you could usually be a bit grumpy when you didn't sleep well but for you to go on and sigh... It was rather odd. If you looked close enough, you would notice the slightest glimpse of worry in her eyes, she didn't show it openly due to her little understanding of how far she could go with her emotions when it came about you, she just stared at you... Her body gently leaning forward a bit towards you as if she was pulled yet again by your presence.

"Rough night...?" Was all she could muster the courage to ask, a soft groan escaped your lips as you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

"Rough night..." You responded gently, not really wanting to act annoyed at her, after all, it wasn't her fault that you were in a foul mood... You were the one who forgot to study days before the exam and just now was catching up... Not her! So why would you burst in front of her?

As you were mentally struggling to keep yourself at bay Law stared at you with a hint of concern in her face, although you two had rarely interacted she knew something was off... Sure, she could blame it all on the lack of sleep, college could be a bitch and she totally understands that since well... She's in the same situation as you, but your uncharacteristic annoyance and groans were more than just having a bad sleep schedule. Law was so torn on what to do... How is she supposed to help you...? You had always been a great aid, unbeknownst to you, whenever you two had interacted during these long and stressful nights you had always managed to make her believe that things weren't as rough as she had believed so in the first place, it was like your mere existence was all that she needed to keep going... Almost as if you gave her the little spark she needed to keep going strong during this long and arduous journey that is studying medicine; But now that you needed her to aid you she froze... She had no clue on what to do or what to say to help, she had never been good with comforting even herself so how was she supposed to do it for you? It was frustrating...

The coffee machine pouring the four cups of coffee you had served was the only sound that surrounded the two of you, the mere dripping adding a soft sound of ambiance as both your minds filled the rest with loud thoughts.

You kept pondering and pondering on the things you've studied so far, remembering everything you could, getting frustrated by the second as you forgot some stuff... Your brain was filled with dark strings of thoughts, some threaded into your mind with knowledge and understanding of debates and investigation yet others just stepped into the edges of your patience with a negative poison that made your head hurt... It was getting overwhelming and you didn't even know how to stop it from getting as intense as it was... Your heart felt heavy and your mind became dull, a migraine threatening to start and ruin your study night... Just like before, you were so caught up in your own world that you didn't realize the movement that had happened just next to you.

You had fully expected for Law to have already left, after all the only thing she would have stayed for was a cup of your coffee... Or that's what you thought. Your mess of a mind was suddenly blank, all the dark threads of thought seemingly coming to a halt as you felt a pair of hands stop them... The unfamiliar warmth that covered you sent a shiver down your spine; What had happened...? You slowly glanced over your shoulder only to find a mass of black hair over the crook of your neck... Law was hugging you.

Your whole body froze; she had never been the type to give hugs heck, even the slightest glimpse of affection coming from her was like a rare achievement, so for her to now be hugging you was... Odd; Even Law herself was surprised, she wasn't one to be this open yet when she saw how your eyes had slowly drained out of that spark she loved, her mind went blank and her body moved on her own, Half out of her whim and half out of what she had learned from you aiding her.

A few minutes went by in this position, her rather strong arms holding onto you while you looked at the coffee machine, the sound of coffee dripping onto the container now feeling somewhat comforting... Your heart and mind were a mess, the latter now filled with thoughts about Law and Law only, almost as if her presence alone made your whole mind agree on what should be threading it. Before long, you raised your hands and gently placed them on top of her tattooed arms, making her flinch slightly. She fully believed you would make her pull away but you didn't, you chuckled slightly as you rubbed your thumb through her soft skin.

"Thank you..." You muttered gently, a soft hum was heard from Law as she held you tighter against her.

"No need..." She mumbled against the nape of your neck. "I just... Thought you might need one of these..."

A soft snort escaped your lips. "'One of these'...? Are hugs so alien to you you don't even know what they're called...?" Your teasing words made her blush a bright red, not that you could see.

"S-shut up, That's not--"

"Nah Nah, you said one of these!" You giggled before clearing your throat and speaking in a bit more of a formal tone just to mess with her. "Allow me to introduce you: Law, hugs; hugs, Law"

Your playful tone made her roll her eyes; sure, you were being annoying but it was better than that gloomy version of yours she saw a few minutes ago, so she would let it pass... For now.

"Oh well nice to meet you I guess..." You laughed at her sudden approval of your teasing words.

Your laugh... It was beautiful, Law's mind became a mushy mess as she chuckled along with you. Sure, she had heard plenty of people laugh but for some reason the way you laughed with such genuine joy was... Something that always made her melt.

"You little raccoon..." She mumbled against the back of your head, making you giggle. It wasn't long before Law's instincts took place... She stared at the back of your head, your soft hair greeting her almost as if asking her to act as she had desired to for so long... A deep breath was all that she needed to get the courage to do so. Your eyes widened as you heard a faint smack sound coming from the back of your head, the gentle tickle of your hair mixed with Law's lips snapping you out to reality... Your pulse jumped up to your cheeks, tinting them a light pink as the realization of what had happened sank in... Your lips parted slightly.

"Did you... Kiss me...?" You didn't even understand why you asked... The answer was so obvious it made Law feel flustered about the fact that you were asking in the first place. A low chuckle was heard from her.

"What do you think little raccoon...?" Her words made your heart leap, she had kissed you... While holding tightly against her. Your silence made her a tad bit uneasy as she couldn't look at how brightly you were blushing confirming that you had indeed liked that small showcase of affection.

"You okay...?"

You perked up. "Y-yeah I'm fine!"

Your yelp caught her off guard, it was all the affirmation she needed... You liked it. She laughed, clearly amused by your reaction. She let out a soft sigh before hugging you against her body.

"Rough night then...?" She asked once more, the resounding of the same question from earlier making your heart flutter, the silent affirmation of that change lingering in the air like a mute prayer... Your lips curved up in a soft smile. You don't know where you got the courage but you laced your fingers with hers, the words 'DEATH' greeting you for an instant before they were quickly hidden by your lips, turning them a slight rosy pink as your companion felt a surge of warmth go through her entire body.

The coffee machine suddenly beeped, signaling the end of its coffee making process but neither of you cared for coffee anymore... You were too drowned out in the pleasure of being next to each other that you didn't listen, all you could hear was your heartbeat as you spoke in a soft whisper...

"Not anymore..."

[tacticalhimbo]

PALE STATIC EXCHANGE... 2! Posting this a bit early, but I'm very excited to have been able to dip my toes into @palestaticexchange this time around! It's very cool to see how alive the Disco Elysium fandom is.

That said, this piece is for @glitch-critter , who asked for "stuff relating to HDB's experience/psyche, especially with regards to electrochemistry/addiction".

WORDS: 2.3K

I really liked the prompts provided, and I thought it would be cool to kind of explore how relapse and recovery can manifest in forms different than the baseline addiction. As such, it would seem Harry has found himself over-correcting himself in regard to his work...

I hope you do enjoy it <3

Also, let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Coastal winds were much tamer as they rolled through the densely packed buildings of Central Jamrock, only just able to sustain themselves as they lapped around the perimeter of Precinct 41. Harry wouldn't be here, if not for Kim. It was he who'd defended him to Vicquemare. He who'd attested to the idea that Harry could get better, with a little guidance and a lot of patience. He who'd truly believed in him, despite everything they faced. Creeping along his senses was the smell of blood shed by belief and held together by vengeance. Remnants of a decades' long war, and its lasting effects on the human psyche—both those that were in tact, and those that were already fragmented—as the world evolved around them. The stillness of the air was dry, just as was the mouth of the disco detective who'd found himself falling into familiar habit. Eat, sleep, work, party—

[LOGIC] No, not anymore. You've given that up now.

[VOLITION] You are a changed man. Or so you would like to have others believe.

Harry is a changed man, or so he would like others to believe. He would like to believe it.

Yet the familiar dryness that consumed Harry did not feel changed. Nor did the aching that settled into his musculature, drawing the thickened fibers back like that of a bowstring, arming them—arming him—to snap at a moment's notice. His stomach felt a familiar sickness. One that had consumed him during the infancy stages of the Martinaise investigation. A horrific hangover, but this one was different. It was dry. He was dry. And that irritated him. Thick brows knitted as his psyche wandered to the idea, briefly leaning into the comforting embrace of familiarity of outrage. It was easier, after all, to be mad at the circumstance than to navigate it. But… It didn't feel right. No, he wasn't angry about it. Perhaps a part of him was. But Harry? Him? He was uncertain. Afraid. Every time he wet his lips in consideration, he knew he would not be able to stop himself. Not when—

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] It's a miracle you even lasted this long. It's like something has snapped in you—a nerve ending. You've lost yourself, Harry. Truly, lost yourself. And god knows how long it will take you to come back this time.

The subtle emphasis makes his skin crawl as his head shakes, hands pausing to linger under the chilled water pouring forth into the sink basin. He sighed, looking to the dingy mirror before him.

Through the speckles of old debris and matted dust, and past the droplets of dew that form with the arterial spray of the sink's faucet (a sign that the mechanism, much like the rest of the restroom, is in need of repair; it has been for as long as one can remember), the visage that greets Harry is… healthier. It invokes a sense of pride not too dissimilar to when he'd first whispered his name—the one he had chosen, not the one he was given—and truly seen himself for the first time. Like the waves, it swelled briefly before crashing down. Fell upon the invariable signs of his past habits. Like looking through the bottom of a liquor-filled glass, it was hazy; a deluge of desperation and need encapsulated by bloatedness and swollenness. Sat neatly among the discolored planes. Pallid skin darkened and reddened as the blood vessels beneath the skin remained agape, prepared for consumption.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Telangiectasia. Small blood vessels sat near the skin's surface. It is natural for them to sit so high, but normally they remain unseen until there is an increase in blood flow.

[INLAND EMPIRE] Recall how one's features become rosy when hearts begin to flutter, or how the sun's warmth seems to sit upon the apples of one's cheeks like a comforting blanket.

[DRAMA] There is an art to this.

[LOGIC] There is not. This is a different sort of happenstance. The events that have led to your flushed appearance are not a simple point of life, nor something to be proud of.

But it is, a simple point of life. Accentuation of Harry's simple existence. It is not something he can change, especially as that nausea begins to grow in his gut. His mouth feels full of cotton; his body so writhe with tension that he begins to tremble and grow dizzy. His nose feels like a small balloon in the middle of his face. His tongue feels swollen and snail-like, floundering about amidst tainted teeth as trembling hands cusp beneath the faucet and draw splashes of water toward his lips.

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] Drink, but it will not replace what you need. No, this is nothing, brother. The best cure for a disease like this is indulgence. Morphine, cigarettes, rum… You need them again. You will not survive without them. This? This is—

[COMPOSURE] Embarrassing.

[AUTHORITY] Weak. How do you expect anybody to take you seriously? Nobody would listen to someone so pathetic.

The taunts were met with the sound of the door slamming; a minute signal in the grand scheme of things. It went unnoticed by those in the wing's hallway. To them, it was business as usual. If not Harry, then Satellite-Officer Vicquemare. If not Vicquemare, then Captain Pryce.

[RHETORIC] The police aren't there to mess up; the police are there to preserve the mess.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Says the professor of Ecole Normale de Revachol. Someone has been reading in his spare time.

[LOGIC] Or simply observing with a clear mind.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] This is a dangerous line of thinking to be falling down. Your past airing of grievances with the RCM has earned you several stern talkings to. In his office, Captain Pryce grimaces at the clutched papers in his aging hands.

[RHETORIC] It was addiction that saved you. Easier to blame the abstract than to examine the system.

A shiver. Harry wasn't the only one struggling. He knew that, even before his days of total sobriety. This sort of culture was normalized; expected of its officers. Many of his habits he fell into through the hands of his coworkers, even if they were not his introduction to the idea. Of course, things were different now. After his outburst, and the disaster in Martinaise, the RCM began cracking down on the use of substances among its officers. Many, like Harry, suddenly found themselves thrust into the true responsibility of duty. Conscious and aware to the severity of their workloads. Many quit. Many more fell into old habits and were systemically demoted until the work no longer supported their needs. And those, like Harry, leaned into the work. Buried themselves in mountains of paperwork chasing that adrenaline-fueled high by doing something—anything—to feel alive.

Yet they never did. Harry never did.

Time blurred past and he was, effectively, the same old corpse he always was. A puppet of the RCM's agenda. The failed Dick Mullen. The swaying body strung from the rafters, dancing along to the fluttering shimmer of the disco ball.

Then, there is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. An inordinate amount of time passes, not even measurable by the distant, rhythmic technological beeps.

[PERCEPTION] Hospital monitors? No. Alarms. An alarm.

[LOGIC] It must be morning. We should get up.

[VOLITION] We shouldn't. We can't. It's much too difficult.

The soft rustling of sheets.

[PAIN THRESHOLD] Easy…

Muscles ache and the silence is inevitably broken by a low groan. Sunlight filters in through dusted curtains, particles coming to fill the air as a heavy hand finds itself upon the alarm clock beside him. Equally heavy feet find the floor, though remain unable to hold the body above them. In a quick sequence, Harry finds himself on the floor, slumped and slouched in an all too familiar position. The aches stop, albeit briefly. Like a fly to the ointment, his conscience sticks to it. Chases it as the limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering awakens itself once more. He is on his feet again, cotton cloth sliding across the floor as his body wills itself to the bathroom.

A mirror hangs above a bent, not broken, sink. Languid hands find themselves upon the faucet, though are gentler in the way they manipulate it. Hot water sprays from the stem and steam covers the mirror. Harry cannot see himself, just the outline of a man.

[CONCEPTUALIZATION] There is an irony in seeing the image. It was not always like this.

[VOLITION] Those days are long gone, now.

Cloth falls from the man's frame, though it remains obscured by the apparatus before him. He slowly reaches his hand toward the surface of the mirror…

[INLAND EMPIRE] You're certain you wish to do this? You may not like what you see there.

[HARRY] I don't care.

A deft motion. The condensation on the reflective surface gives under the palm that wipes it, leaving in its path a clear view to the tired visage that stares back. To the naked, pallid flesh that rolls from a slumped frame. Hair highlights various pathways, traveling down between taped and tucked mounds and rolling along the rumbling stomach, and continuing through the fog and beyond the sink's barrier. It traverses the adhesive edges of Harry's binding (he's still thankful he has learned this alternative; not only does it keep his natural form, but it allows him to wear his shirts open with pride) and over his shoulders. Down thick arms to the bruised knuckles that hold the porcelain lip of the sink. It flutters out, then reappears upon his rounded jaw, mutton chops growing thickened around his lips. He's due for a shave, but a part of him enjoys this rugged look. It's… different. He's different.

He's happy.

[COMPOSURE] You're exhausted.

[SAVOIR FAIRE] You've dropped the toothbrush. Again. Your hands feel foreign to your own body.

His eyes follow dirt-stained grout lines down to the floor, only to find that sad little toothbrush dried beside the trash bin. He's exhausted. Creaking and groaning, Harry bends to discard the brush; opts to simply swish some mouthwash and try not to think of the burning sensation that draws his nose to scrunch and his eyes to water. He does it twice. Perhaps to mask the fact he has not properly brushed and will have to save that act for after his shift. Perhaps because he feels he deserves the ache; it invigorates him. Begins to bring him back to life and pull him from the vice grip weariness holds on him.

But it isn't enough.

Not as he washes himself in the shower, nearly tripping over the tub's lip as he climbs out afterward. Nor as he finds himself slumped against the wardrobe door, idly flipping through his clothing options and looking for his RCM jacket.

[PERCEPTION] It… should be here. Why isn't it here? Don't tell me we've lost it again.

[LOGIC] Nonsense. We brought it home. It is here, just not put away.

It's not enough as he waits for the toast to pop from its apparatus, where the sudden click and ding nearly makes him crawl out of his skin. Coffee spills on his shirt, bringing him back to the wardrobe once more, digging around for a new shirt and tie. Back to the kitchen. New coffee in his cup. Butter and jam on cooling bread. Crumbs dust his facial hair, only unsettled from their rest when he reaches to scratch a persistent itch. It is then when the realization clicks.

He's exhausted. He is unmoving. Those early morning aches have not been shaken, and have in fact only worsened with his moving through the morning routine. His mind has been quieter; nearly absent. He can barely recall what he's done and what he hasn't, with the only clues being the visible changes in his appearance that signify—at the very least—that he's done the basics and cleaned himself. But that's just it. If he can't even recall this, how in the world could he find himself responsible for the safety of others. How could he find himself amidst the greater world around him, with dozens of eyes on him—some pleading, some scrutinizing?

He'd done it before, under worse circumstances… but he wasn't that kind of animal anymore. He didn't want to be that kind of animal anymore.

Which is why, with a swaying physique and a hoarseness in his voice, he found himself on the phone with whichever unfortunate soul would find themselves on the other end of the line. Unfortunate, not for taking in his call-in, but for having to present it to Vicquemare and Pryce.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Early morning ire. Slender knuckles knock on the door to ask permission to enter; it is granted. From his throne, Pryce sneers at the individual before him. His brow twitches, his posture stiffens.

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] What the hell do you mean he called out?

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] A pregnant pause. The avoidance of eye contact.

[UNKNOWN] He just did… Said something about feeling under the weather.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] The response was faint. Nearly whispered as the other end of the reigning duo entered with a stack of papers.

[JEAN VICQUEMARE] Who called out?

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] Your star pupil.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Jean's posture slackens and he sneers. It's evident the sarcastic jab was more than enough to clue him in. Yet there is a subtleness in his eyes that almost suggests concern. He sets the papers on Pryce's desk then walks out without another word.

Shoulders slump and a ragged sigh escapes as Harry undoes his tie and discards it, absentmindedly tossing it to the coffee table. His shirt follows as he sinks into the comfortable contour of the couch. Tired eyes slip shut, coaxing the surrounding musculature to relax and begin a rippling effect. He melts, and for once he can feel the day passing.

And for once, he does not care. He deserves this rest, and nothing can convince him otherwise.

[paigesdontfly]

Chapter 1 Snippet!

Alright everyone, I'm gonna jump on the fanfic boat, cause why the hell not?

If this starts getting attention, feel free to start messaging me prompts and I'll do my best with them (I enjoy flexing my brain with different ideas anyway!

Most of my chapters are going to be way too long for the character limit so I'll post snippets, and if anyone wants to read what I have written (... which is a literal book), I'll share the PDF!

Please keep in mind that the main character is my OC, interacting with characters from the incredible Hazbin universe that Vivziepop has given us. I will still maintain my rights to my ideas

Chapter 1 Snippet:

“Whiskey, please. On the rocks,” I yelled over the lively and soulful tune emanating from the piano in the far corner. The bartender nodded, poured my drink for me, and let me be. I come here often enough that he knows I prefer not to be bothered. No, I like to people watch. I turned my back to the bar as more sinners began arriving, and watched as the night of debauchery began. The more the drinks flowed, the livelier the crowd became, dancing in ways that definitely showed the changes through the decades, from the Charleston to Swing. Those more intoxicated than others tripped on their own feet, or the feet of others, sloshed their drinks, a few punches thrown here or there. I smiled, knowing it was going to be an interesting night if things kept up. I did revel in the chaos that came from nights like these— and they did happen so often here in Hell.

I had just ordered my third whiskey when a demon slid in next to me to order a drink, bumping into my shoulder in his haste to do so. I inhaled my irritation through my nose, then out slowly. Incidents such as these did tend to happen often, and in the cases of intoxicated individuals, I let it go more often than not. Once receiving his drink, however, he glanced at me once, then did a double take.

“Heya sweetheart, how are you doing on this fine evening?” I sighed, refraining from rolling my eyes, turned to the bar, and sipped my whiskey. “Care to dance?” The demon asked, and grabbed my arm to pull me to the dance floor. I suddenly whirled on him, showing him my fiercest snarl. I couldn’t very well incinerate him on the spot. Not here in front of so many onlookers, but that particular look was enough to stop most in their tracks.

“I’d like for you to remove your arm before I do it for you.” The demon was taken aback, but his arm remained where it was, and his face actually steeled. “How d—” just as I was about to remove his arm from his socket, the piano playing had suddenly stopped, and a shape suddenly appeared behind the demon before he could even finish his sentence. “I do believe the lady asked you to remove your hand.” An oddly jovial voice, distorted with a radio frequency sounded behind him.

“You should do so, before you lose it.” My rescuer’s voice fluctuated in frequency, almost a growl. The demon turned with a quite irate expression on his face, until he faced the demon and immediately paled. “I—I—“ the demon stammered. “Yes, you.” The demon’s smile grew wide and menacing, his eyes pinched, as he reached forward, and the small antlers that sat atop his head grew slightly. The air around him darkened and the atmosphere became incredibly threatening. An electric tingle, like static electricity traveled over my skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

Suddenly, I knew exactly which demon had suddenly made a re-appearance after such a long absence. He reached for my aggressor’s hand, and with two fingers, plucked it from my arm and wrenched him away from me, breaking his hand in the process. The demon let out a sharp yelp and held his arm to his chest. “You really should take more care to do as you’re told.” His smile became even more menacing as I felt a shift in the air— I could feel him pull it. A small smirk played on my face; I couldn’t resist it. Interesting. Suddenly, a red cane with a microphone attached to the top and surrounded with a shroud materialized into existence, and he leaned on it, giving the attitude of being relatively relaxed and carefree; it only added to his menacing presence. Interesting indeed.

“S-s-sorry,” the demon managed to get out before turning tail and hauling out of the bar entirely. I leaned against the back of the bar chair, tilting my head backwards to get a look at my supposed ‘rescuer’. Small antlers sat atop his head in-between scarlet ears—which gave a miniscule twitch as he watched the demon retreatingؙ— and matching scarlet hair with black ends. He wore a monocle, a red striped tailcoat, black dress pants with red cuffs, and sophisticated shoes. The air around him suddenly went back to its normal atmosphere, his power pulled back, and his antlers went back to their normal size; his smile relaxed to become more welcoming, but I could tell it wasn’t genuine; this led me to believe it was just his neutral facial expression. He brushed off perceived dust from the shoulder of his jacket, then rounded on me.

Suddenly, I was face to face with the infamous Radio Demon.

[matkinsarts102-02]

V+V Final blog reflection

Although this class did not have many projects this semester, I found it to be a very difficult but rewarding course. My crafting skills were truly challenged, as well as my creativity.

PAPER TOY

For our first project we were assigned to create a paper doll. I had never folded anything like the examples in class, and am use to creating in a 2D workspace, so I felt quite lost. My original idea was to create a small paper cat inside a large folded paper head of garlic, to symbolize my own cat, whose name is Ajo. (Ajo is the Spanish word for garlic). The prototyping for this idea was quite easy. I was able to draw a few ideas that looked foldable. I would print them, cut them, and fold them, but was never able to get the shape I wanted for the garlic head. My most successful attempt was a box-character cat around 1 inch tall and a quadrant petal cut out that folded together to create a structure around the cat. It held together by tabs cut into two petals.

I liked the idea, but didn't think it was very fun. I started over and started focusing on just the cat. I sketched multiple body parts, printed them, and folded. I failed a lot at this stage, but was finally able to get something that resembled what I was after. I made final tweaks and started working on the final result. I digitally rendered my working sketches, added a few touchups, color, and fit the pieces onto two sheets. I printed the cat onto thick paper, which was a struggle to cut and fold. I had to use glue, which interfered with the look of my project. If I had to redo the toy, I would make sure to use thinner paper, be more careful with adhesive application, and not include dotted lines in my final design.

MAGAZINE

I chose to do a magazine about tattoos. I enjoyed my topic from start to finish, but had a hard time getting inspired for content and design. I began with the idea of an 8x8 square magazine with heavy black and white imagery. However, I had a hard time working from this idea, and got "stuck" while trying to think of ways to make the magazine experimental. In the meantime, I traveled to take pictures of a tattoo shop my friend works out. I knew that I wanted to incorporate a lot of photography into my magazine, and figured that taking pictures would put me in a better position to get ideas than continuing with content layout. At the shop, I got a lot of good pictures, and was also able to pick up some tattoo stencils to serve as my found object. I would later scan these stencils and overlay color on photoshop so that they could serve as my end pages. (The ink on the stencils transfers very easily and has a hard time coming off, and I didn't want to risk loosing my final product).

After getting photographs, I worked on illustrations. I started working on a tattoo flash page of multiple designs to go in my magazine. I had wanted to make a usable tattoo sheet, but abandoned this idea pretty quickly. I also did content research and designed a few spreads. Things still were not looking right.

My PC died and never recovered a few days before the magazine's due date. Luckily, I was able to access a PDF file of my magazine to look at as reference, but decided to start anew and untether myself to my existing ideas.

I spoke to a professor who told me my 8x8 looked like "a museum dedicated to tattoos" and I didn't want it to be seen that way. Adopting new font choices, trading all-black backgrounds to white, cutting down on text, and changing the size of my magazine made all of the difference I needed. My photo spreads looked much more impressive, and content pages looked generally cleaner with more breathing room. The size change also gave me the opportunity to work with hand-rendered font which was something I had wanted to create with my process book last spring. I swapped out the flash page with playful illustrations to contrast the quite serious photographs. I think tattooing as an artform is quite diverse in the first place, as pieces can range from silly and playful, to serious and detailed; it's not limited to just one perspective. I found I wanted my magazine to reflect that, so that it is more susceptible to a variety of audiences who have an interest in tattoos.

After getting over the hurdle of printing, I was very pleased with how the magazine turned out. Crafting it was terrible on the first one, but much better on the second. Cutting bottom to left corner and scoring before folding is the way to go.

This is the first project that I have an interest in revisiting. Here is what I would change:

add a statement of intention that shares my interest with the audience.

be more conscious of word spacing, and font size (could go a hair smaller)

utilize photoshop to enhance images for more drama

explore different binding options

be more conscious of gutter size for binding

making the cover a different paper type would be intresting

not leave it out where my cat can take a bite out of the good copy (It was double wrapped in a bag, so I thought it would be fine).

POSTCARDS

I really enjoyed using the RISO machine! It was difficult at first to figure out, but I loved the look of my end result. I got a lot of compliments. I would like to use it in the future for some of my projects.

[maxislvt]

She Drains Me Slowly

Summary: As much as you loved Wanda, you could no longer tolerate being her puppy. The way every vampire in a 20 mile radius gawked and fawned over you like some teacup poodle was beyond humiliating. Even with the promise that no "low level" vampire would put their hands on you, you still found yourself being stroked and cooed at by complete strangers very often. There was only so much you could take before you would snap. You decided to give yourself a break, but your owner had other plans.

Tags: aggressive behaviors, series typical manipulation, mommy kink, nonsexual pet play

A/N: no more than 20 of y'all could've seen this when it first came out. so I'm posting the final part again! Hope y'all enjoy it. I will take drabble/headcanon requests for vampire!wanda :)

Series Masterlist

You had lasted all of three weeks before you were officially done with Wanda's antics. You loved her, you truly did, but she was starting to become suffocating. You couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without her around and her rules were absolutely insane. What was once sexually liberating and tastefully degrading was now dreadful and distasteful to you. You didn’t want to be a doll or a pup or whatever nickname Wanda could come up with to make you fall back into her arms. No more pet names, no more rules, and definitely no more collars. Just time to exist as you were without Wanda constantly looking over your shoulder. As much as you wanted that, you were deathly afraid of how your lover would react. Wanda had become increasingly volatile and possessive. The slightest misstep or the smallest hint of disobedience would land you a punishment. Logically, you decided to just leave the second you got an excuse. Thankfully, it came quickly. You had to get some books for your classes in the upcoming semester. Though you would usually just find a free PDF online or borrow some from the library, you had to get some fresh air and head back into town. You missed your friends. Wanda never officially barred you from calling or texting them, but it wasn’t the same as spending time with them in person and it wasn’t easy to do when she literally stood behind you the entire conversation.

Your plan was simple. You would be a good pet all morning until Wanda left for work. Then, you’d get ready and leave. Maybe you’d talk to some friends after you got the books, but you wouldn’t spend more than a couple hours in town. It was a long walk from where Wanda lived to the edge of town and then an even longer walk from the gate to the library. You wouldn’t have time to do everything you wanted, but something was better than nothing at all.

The start of the day was pretty off. Wanda guided you through your morning like normal, she seemed more dominant than usual, but you thought nothing of it. You and Wanda ate in complete silence. That was the first red flag. Wanda would normally ask you about whatever your latest fixation was or give you the rundown of her schedule for the day. The second was her lack of guidance when you two went to brush your teeth and clean your faces. Wanda was most dominant during that time. She’d put toothpaste on your toothbrush and guide you through the intense facial routine she had set for you. Today, she just guided you to the bathroom and left you to your own devices. You never realize how poor your self-care skills were until she reprimanded you for almost washing your face with moisture and then putting on toner after your sunscreen. The worst of it was Wanda had almost no care for getting you dressed. She haphazardly threw your outfit together and was strangely rough when dressing you. To say your feelings were hurt was an understatement, but Wanda seemed to be nothing but a blood sucking brick wall. You held your tongue and decided it would be better for the both of you to just let her leave.

Wanda leaving was by far the worst “best” thing to happen all morning. She lingered around for hours just stomping and huffing as she washed the dishes, gathered her keys, and put on her shoes. Occasionally, you two would lock eyes and she’d have this weird expectant look on her face. You would turn away out of confusion then she would sigh obnoxiously loud before finding something else to do. Eventually, she stormed out the house in a quiet rage, making sure to slam the door hard enough to shake what felt like the entire house.

Finally, you were alone.

There was an unmistakable, but now unfamiliar burn in your chest. You were abandoned. Alone, frustrated, and nearly naked in what now felt like a stranger's house. You wanted to cry, but decided not to waste time. Your body dragged itself from the couch, through the living room, and finally to your closet. The grandness of where you were had been lost on you until that moment. The distance was nothing when you excitedly ran around it, but now it seemed endless as your feet dragged you across it. Dressing yourself had a weird melancholic freedom to it. You didn’t think too much about what you put on as long as it fit comfortably and actually covered your body, it was good.

You found yourself storming out the house the same way Wanda did. Angry and without care for anything else. You stomped through the house and slammed the door just as she did. It didn’t carry as much weight since she wasn’t there to see your acts of aggression, but it at least made you feel better. You found yourself stomping all the way down the hill and to the gate. It was a difficult feat and you felt ridiculous, but you held your ground. You stopped at the gate to catch your breath. Just as you were about to attempt to yank off the lock and run off, you heard footsteps. Your blood ran cold and you were frozen in place.

“That was a good show, puppy. For a moment, you really had me thinking you were actually trying to escape.”

The mere sound of her voice made your throat tighten up. Her voice had a deceptive sweetness to it that you were all too familiar with. It terrified you. Your grip on the lock tightened. All you had to do was pull it and walk away. You were leaving for a good reason. There was no reason for her to be upset with you, all you had to do was explain yourself. Yet, something was screaming at you that Wanda wouldn’t listen to you. Your body wanted to run. So that’s what you did. Shaking arms steadied themselves and pulled down with strength that surely wasn’t yours. Your legs bent, ready to speed off the second there was enough space in the gate for your body to slip through.

Instead, your body tumbled back from a push that seemingly came out of nowhere. Your head hit the ground in seconds. If it had anything other than grass and dirt, you surely would’ve cracked your skull. Your trembling arms struggled to lift you up off the ground. Your vision was slightly blurred, but it was clearly Wanda in front of you. It was like she magically appeared in front of you. “Wanda, I was just-”

“Just what? Just running away like some untrained mutt?” Her grip on the bars of the gate was strong enough to make the metal bend. “I feed you, bathe you, and keep you happy and you try to leave me,” She shouted before slamming the gate behind her. Wanda walked over to you and grabbed you by the front of your shirt. It was tight enough to restrict your breathing. There wasn’t a word in the English language to describe how angry Wanda was. Your plan to escape wasn’t a secret by any means, but she had given you a chance to be honest with her and you still decided to be sneaky and underhanded. She lifted you up with god-like strength so you were face to face. “There isn’t anything — or anyone — that you need that’s outside that gate. You hear me?” She wasn’t satisfied with the meek nod you had given her in response. “I said, do you hear me,” She repeated with more emphasis. “I have no problem breaking stupid mutts like you. So I suggest you behave yourself.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m so sorry, I promise I won’t act out again, I just needed to get my–” Your rambling was cut off by Wanda tightening her grip on your shirt. Your hands gripped onto her wrist as you were forcibly dragged back up the hill. Wanda had never been so careless with you. Even with the roughest punishment, she was careful to never push your boundaries. Now, you were just a rag doll for her to take her anger out on. “Please, I just wanted to get some books for my classes.” Lying to Wanda was always a dangerous game. She could find out the truth at any given moment and then your fate would be in her hands. It was your fault. That’s what you had convinced yourself. If you had just been honest with her, maybe she’d let you go. Wanda wasn’t cruel unless you forced her hand.

Wanda practically threw you against the floor of her house. She gently closed the door this time before turning towards you. Her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. “Don’t worry about that. You won’t be leaving this house without me any time soon,” She asked through gritted teeth. She slowly stepped forward. For a moment, the corners of her mouth turned upwards. The sight of you trembling and attempting to escape her was addictive. She stepped forward again. Then she took another one. And another one. Then two more after that. And before she knew it, she had you trapped between her and the front of the couch. She slowly bent down so the two of you were face to face. Her hand snaked to the back of your neck and gripped it tightly. “I don’t wanna treat you like a mutt. I want you to be my good puppy and my perfect doll, but I have to punish you when you act out.” Her hand moved to the front of your neck and slowly began to squeeze.

Most people would’ve fought back. Clawed at her hands and tried to kick her off. Yet, you stayed still. You let Wanda’s strong hands wrap around your throat and selfishly steal your breath away. Even when your vision became speckled with black spots. You took your punishment like any good toy would. Any praise or degradation from your owner had fallen on deaf ears as your body lulled into unconsciousness. Death very well could’ve been knocking at your front door, but you were strangely okay with that. If Wanda wanted you dead for your betrayal, so be it.

Wanda finally let go when she was sure you had been knocked out. There was nothing but silence. Had you not been right in front of her, she would have thought she had been sent to the past. Back to when she was cooped up in her mansion with no one to share it with. Her hands cupped your face. It would’ve been sweet if you weren’t passed out by her own doing. It was just possessive now. One hand pushed you forward into her chest and the other stroked your hair. “Oh puppy, you don’t have a clue how much you mean to me.” You were the love of her life. Even if she demoted you all the way down to a mutt and would strip you of any freedoms she had given you once before, she still loved you. It was just a kind of love you would have no choice but to get used to.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When you woke up, you were surprisingly comfortable. Wrapped in fluffy warm sheets and surrounded by the relaxing scent of lavender and french vanilla. Had your legs not been throbbing from bruises or your neck not burned from being choked, you would’ve thought your failed escape plan was just a bad dream. Your hand blindly reached out for the warmth of your owner. You knew she wouldn’t be there, but you held out hope. A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your aching body to sit up right. There was no telling how long you’d be in trouble, but you would rather start your punishment now than hold it off. Walking to Wanda’s room felt. Your body weighed like a ton of bricks and your vision seemingly failed to recover from being knocked out, but you pushed forward regardless. Fortunately, your treacherous journey was cut short. The second you walked past the door to Wanda’s study, everything felt better.

She knew you were standing there, but decided to see what you would do. Maybe you’d start crying and beg her for forgiveness or maybe you’d keep up your little tantrum of independence and demand she apologize to you. Though you had repeatedly shown that you couldn’t be trusted, she wanted to give you the chance to redeem yourself naturally. Her eyes stayed focused on the monitor until you tugged at the sleeve of her suit jacket. "Is something the matter," She asked innocently. She knew exactly what was wrong. You wanted to be coddled and cuddled like you were the most precious thing on Earth, but knew it wasn't the treatment you deserved. " Use your words. I know you're just a mutt, but mommy doesn't understand pointing and pouting."

The use of such an honorific caught you off guard. Wanda had never used one before. She was your owner, but she never called herself that and you weren't obligated to refer to her as such. "I..Can I sit there? On the bed, I mean…Can I sit on the bed, please?" You tensed up underneath the hand that touched your face. It wasn't as warm and adoring as you were used to, but you were overjoyed to be touched again.

Wanda forced you to bend down to her eye level. "You can sit, but I need you to be extra quiet so I can work. Okay?" She normally wouldn't accept just a nod as confirmation, but you were clearly too shaken up for any proper discipline. Her chair rolled back so you could comfortably lay down in the bed underneath her desk. It had gone unused since she rarely worked from home. "This is a bed meant for a puppy and not a mutt, but if you behave I'll let you keep it." Wanda gave you a quick kiss on the lips before she pulled her chair back up and went to work.

Despite the trouble you put yourself in, not much changed. Wanda still checked on you every few minutes and mandatory snack breaks were just as consistent. What used to be cookies with milk were now bowls of fruit paired with water because "only good puppies get sweet snacks" as your owner bluntly. Wanda's break was usually reserved for "playtime" but she decided it was better to clean up what mutt she brought home instead.

Part of you worried that it would be a repeat of earlier. That you'd be carelessly tossed around and left to your own devices again. Fortunately, Wanda could extend her kindness to even the most disobedient mutts. She ran your bath with the same bath and bubbles you had grown to love. Your underwear and the tight fabric around your chest were removed with such care, you almost forgot why you wanted to run away.

Wanda guided you into the bathtub, taking extra care so your disoriented body wouldn't slip. Normally, she would get in with you, but there wasn't enough time for that. There was barely enough time to properly attend to you, but she was more than willingly to keep a few stuck up vampires waiting if it meant taming your disobedient soul. The pristine white suit jacket was carelessly discarded on the floor. She carefully unbuttoned her blouse and rolled up the sleeves. A smile spread across her face at the way you excitedly extended your arm out for her to wash. "You wanna be mommy's puppy again real bad, don't you," She teased as her fingers squished your cheeks.

You giggled at the strange affection. Your heart soared at the softness, but something in the back of your head had convinced you there was no need to talk. It was soft and corrosive. If you just played with the bubbles and let Wanda do whatever wanted, everything would be fine. Wanda would only be mean if you were mean to her. Just be good, that's all you had to do. For a moment, you wondered where the voice was coming from. You looked to Wanda, assuming she could hear it too, but all you got in return was a dotting look. It warmed your heart just enough to forget about the voice. "I'm sorry about this morning…I should have asked first."

Wanda let out a disappointed sigh. "You really should have, I don't want you to run off and get sick like last time." There was a purposeful air of nonchalant to her statement. She glanced up briefly, happy to see the confused expression on your face. "You remember when we were both really mad at each other and you ignored me for a super long time," Wanda said with faux innocence. It was her fault you had been upset, no sane person would say otherwise. "Then you got super sick and I had to sneak in to help you feel better. You got sick because of our connection." She reached into the tub and grabbed your hand. Her thumb carefully rubbed the bit marks she left weeks ago. "If we stay apart too long or get mad at each other, we'll both get sick and I don't want my mutt to get sick. Then they can't become a puppy."

Had this happened any earlier in your relationship, you would've shriveled up and demanded she talk to you like an adult. Yet, you found an odd comfort in her belittling tone of speech. "Oh, I didn't know that…I'm sorry," You whispered, suddenly ashamed and embarrassed of your previous behavior. You shifted slightly so Wanda could continue bathing you. "I won't go if it'll make you sick." It was an insane promise to make. You couldn't just not go to college. Though your parents were always supportive of your decisions, they certainly wouldn't be happy to see their money go to waste at the whim of a suitor they had never met. Plus, graduating college had been your dream since you were old enough to think — you couldn't just give up on it now with no regrets.

Wanda laughed at your blind dedication. "Oh, sweetheart, I would never make you drop out. We just have to make some arrangements so I can keep up with you," She cooed before kissing your cheek. "I'll have someone go and do all that boring stuff so you can stay with mommy until you have to go back." Wanda left no room for disagreement, which was fine since you didn't have any. Cleaning you up was a destresser that she couldn't go without. Even if she couldn't dress you up like a doll or even collar you like a puppy, taking care of you was fun.

So long as the two of you were connected, you would be anything she wanted.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Treat Them Right (Peter Parker x Male Reader)

Last second decision cause it’s Valentine’s Day. Also it’s short but that’s not my problem lmao

Requested by: @iliumheightnights​ Can you please write a peter parker x male reader where peter keeps getting distracted thinking of a date and the avengers think it's a girl so they give him all of these tips on how to "treat a lady right" but then his boyfriend shows up. 

Word count: 1195

CW: mentions of reader as female

Any day Peter went to the tower, he was prepared for everything that could possibly go wrong. His table would explode, a supervillain would crash through the window, everything he worked on was deleted from his computer.

The worst one was when anyone he knew came to embarrass him in front of other people.

It was rarely a problem because he had little contact with other people when he was working. If he was going into another lab, he didn't worry so much that anything would go wrong because talking to other people kept him distracted from that worry. But someone embarrassing him in front of an Avenger? He might as well just die on the spot.

A week ago, his boyfriend had mentioned that it was going to be their one year anniversary since their first date. He was zoning out for parts of the day, both stressing over how he ever found someone so amazing and what he'd have to do to avoid disaster.

"Peter! Come here. I want you to meet someone."

He turned away from the scientists currently working on a project to see his mentor.

"Mr. Stark! Uh, I'm just finishing up here," he said.

"No worries. Come in, Bruce. No one's bite is worse than yours, I promise."

There was a quiet muttered complaint, and Peter turned back to the table to work on the hologram.

"Radiation is still dangerous, even as a source of energy. It might give the Hulk his powers, and probably Spider-Man — not that I would know, I've never met him. I mean, I could! Anyway, it doesn't mean it's not still dangerous. So keep that in mind when you're working with this stuff."

He made a vague hand gesture waving at the hologram that he definitely did not learn from Tony. Just as he started to head for the door, he was stopped by a voice.

"Hey, these are my papers! That's great. There's a section over here you might want to take a look at."

Peter then saw Bruce Banner swiping through a pdf that was on one of the holograms. He smiled up at Peter.

"Peter! I can't believe we haven't met yet. You're doing great work here," Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned scientist and former refugee, said to Peter Parker, skinny nerd still in school.

"Uh. Thank... you..." Peter responded, a little starstruck.

Even after meeting Avengers personally, it was still a surprise to see them. The world made them seem untouchable, but Peter knew they weren't. Seeing any of them in person was like a fever dream.

"Kid, this is Bruce. Bruce, Pete. We have somewhere to go," Tony said suddenly.

"Oh, okay. Bye!" Peter managed to say before he was swept out of the room.

When they got in the elevator, Tony finally spoke.

"So, Peter! I heard something very important came up and you are gonna need to have a talking to."

"I'm gonna what?!" Peter squeaked.

Then he was in the sitting room. It was usually the most comfortable place on the tower's "Avengers" floors. Now it was the most terrifying situation he'd ever been in.

Every single Avenger (minus Tony) and friends were sitting in a semicircle around Peter. They all stared at him in silence. His eyes were wide open as he stared right back.

"Am I being inducted into a cult?" he whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You have an anniversary coming up," Natasha said from her standing position as she crossed her arms. "A year is very important, Peter."

"You need to plan this properly," Rhodes said.

"And if she's not happy with what you plan, expect us to be ten times as unhappy," Clint added.

Peter opened his mouth to correct him, but Steve cut him off.

"You know, I might have been born a while ago, but most important things you need to know are going to be from us. If you don't treat her right, she'd be the least of your worries," he said.

He glanced at Bucky, who was cracking his neck. His face said "murder." Peter shrunk in on himself.

"Where's Mr. Stark?" he asked.

"He's in a meeting," Natasha said.

"Okay," he meekly responded.

Thor shuffled in his comfortable seat on the sofa.

"My people treat their romantic partners as their equals. If one is too slow in courting a partner, their relatives will find it suspicious and will seek blood. But I'm sure that's not the case," the god said with a reassuring smile.

It was not reassuring.

"I don't want to inconvenience you or anything, but I don't know why I'm here. I thought I was just supposed to work on something with Tony," Bruce said.

"Banner," Natasha snapped. "Give him some advice and then you can leave."

"Uh, I don't know, flowers? Girls like that, right? Look, I'm busy. It was nice to meet you, Peter. I hope we get to work on something together."

He walked away. Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned scientist, just told Peter that he wanted to work with him. For science stuff.

This was the best and worst day of his life.

"Okay, if you're going to a restaurant or anywhere that requires sitting at a table, you pull the chair out for her. And you make sure you check in, make sure she's comfortable," Sam said from his spot.

"You gotta make her feel like she's the only girl for you. And there's nothing better than personally bringing her somewhere that would mean a lot to the both of you," Bucky said.

"If your partner slaps you in the face, you think hard about what you did wrong," Thor absentmindedly mumbled, playing with some gadget he found on the coffee table.

"From what I've seen with Pepper and Tony, just don't be stupid. Be on time and make sure you do nice things for her," Rhodes said.

"I'd like to inform you that someone is coming up," FRIDAY chirped from the ceiling.

"Who?" Natasha snapped.

They all turned to see the private elevator open to reveal a boy. They readied their weapons, though Thor didn't seem too bothered. He swung the hammer around lazily.

"Uh... am I interrupting something?" you asked.

"Who are you? How did you get up here?" Rhodes demanded.

"I'm... here for Peter. Hey, you aren't, like, inducting him into a cult or anything, right?" you said.

"That's what I said!" Peter exclaimed.

He rushed away from the group into your arms, nearly toppling the both of you over. You held out a single flower, which he huffed and blushed at.

"Avengers, this is my boyfriend," Peter announced.

"That's unexpected," Steve said.

"I was saying 'partner' the whole time," Thor said. "None of you caught on."

"Are you ready, Peter? We've got somewhere to be," you said.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Peter automatically responded.

"Dude, if you do Spongebob in front of me one more time, I will take the flower."

"No!"

The elevator doors closed behind the both of you, leaving the Avengers to discuss the events themselves.

"I'm here," Tony said, entering the room with Pepper and Bruce. "Did I miss anything?"

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

Arigale: Spite in the Spirit Ch. 5 - Betwixt

Since the first five chapters are up on Amazon as a free preview anyways, I may as well bring them on here to remove the middle man and have it up to promo myself. I will not share more since the book is for sale and this is my job, but there is other free content for the series and more on my website at ArigaleFantasy.com. Now, here's the fifth chapter! (Keep in mind this is copy/paste from google docs and not my final pdf since it's taking away all my breaks doing that.) You can find the first chapter here. You can find the second chapter here. You can find the third chapter here. You can find the fourth chapter here. Here is the fifth and final chapter that I will be putting up for preview! Many thanks if you have made it this far! Besides my website which links to stores in the paragraph above, you can also purchase the full book using these links on Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Apple, Indiebound, and Kobo. Enjoy! Feel free to message me with any questions, and yes, you can look at the trigger list in the descriptions before buying! 💜💙💜💙💜

The floorboards creaked in the dining hall; as Chit finally snuck into his placement at the far end of the long dining table. Members of the Dark all sat in a line. No one seemed significantly perturbed by his lateness, but his body held every muscle tensed like he was ready for a punch to be thrown. His wooden tableware didn’t offer the same gleam as that used at the Light table across the hall, yet he tried to crane his head just right to catch a glimpse of what his face might look like this morning. Proper excuses whirled about his thoughts to match it by the time he was approached. There was no way he wouldn’t be reprimanded, both for his missing curfew and his tardiness at breakfast. His shoulders dropped as he watched everyone else around him eat and held his hands together in his lap.

“About time. I made sure to save some for you. You’re never late.” Chinea’s sweet voice reached his ears, and they both burned. He was caught. It could be much worse.

“I-I o-overslept.” He fumbled and burned darker across his cheeks. It sounded lame even to him.

“Overslept? Where? In a field or a tavern?” She chuckled and dished out some porridge to him and, looking over her shoulder first, threw some bacon on top. “You were back in your quarters well past nightfall. The whole of the upper ranks is aware, but it hasn’t been spread to your peers yet. I’m trying to get Master Brenner to go easy on your first offense, but he’s beside himself. I’ve never seen him act like this with the other boys.”

Chit sunk lower in his seat, but he still made sure to swipe the bacon off the top of his bowl and cram it into his mouth to quell his rumbling stomach. He rubbed his arms as his tail twitched around behind him on the floor. He looked up at Chinea with a heavy expression dragging down his features.

“I should speak to him l-later. Sh-shouldn’t I?” The thought of it made the hair on his neck stand up.

“Yes…” Chinea looked like she’d buckle if that serving bowl she held were any heavier. “He’s ordered me to tell you to see him after breakfast, but I’ll be at my usual post, so you can find me after.”

“R-Right…” He looked down at his food and brought a wavering spoonful to his lips. Chinea sighed and sat on the edge with a hip bump to scoot Chit down the bench to make room.

“So, want to tell me why you were really late last night? It may help me help your case.”

“I-I… I was helping someone. She needed a hand after we met at the tower outside town.” His body relaxed as she scooted closer.

“You were outside? That far?” Chinea held a hand to her chest. “If the Master hears-”

“He already knows.” Chit stuffed another bite into his mouth. “He’s the one who agreed to it, because of the elf that invited me, but that weird mage said Master wasn’t pleased about agreeing to it. That means I’m in double trouble now.”

“Mage? Was that who needed your help?” Chinea was watching his face about an inch away from it with a skeptical look. He swore a bead of sweat crossed her cheek.

“No. Judith did. She u-um… well she needed to bury a friend, but before that, I was just helping her get back home after she used up her strength and couldn’t walk.”

“Bury?” Chinea’s voice rose before noticing as she grew more concerned by the second. “Chit, you know that’s against the-”

“I couldn’t help it. She said he didn’t like f-fire. She wanted to let him rest peacefully, and I couldn’t say n-no to that, so we went out to the old tree. I-I made sure it was far off and obscure.” He pulled at a curl in his vision and set his spoon down with the bowl only half empty.

“I see then.” Chinea rubbed her forehead with one hand as the other tried to support her against the table. “Let’s hope that part stays secret. Don’t tell another soul, you hear me?”

“Y-Yes ma’am… of course.” Chit swallowed hard and pushed his bowl away. He felt sick to his stomach.

“So you were called out to that tower outside town along with some girl named Judith. Whatever for?”

“An um… I don’t know if I should say. The elf wants us both to w-work together on some request. A big request at that.” He slowly eased his posture while his tail wrapped about their ankles.

“The two of you, huh?” Chinea got the hint of a smile forming in her dimples. “Is this Judith cute?” The white speckles appeared on his still darkening cheeks.

“N-Not like that m-matters.” The spoon clattered against the wood as he flicked it from one side to the other.

“You didn’t say no~,” Chinea said in tune as she started to chuckle at him. “Chit. You’ve got one shot still. You’re turning twenty in two weeks, and I know you’re aware that after that you’re…You’ll be initiated and take oaths into the Dark.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time to get to know anyone. I’ve got more training. I probably won’t see her again.” The hall had cleared out but for a few talking at the end of the Light table. Chit rose, and his muscles all screamed at him as they tensed again, but he looked stoic as could be under the thick, cumbersome robes of the church.

The echo of the Master’s staff as it hit the stones in the hall made the few remaining people quietly retreat through the ornate door to the Light side of the church. The Master emerged from the bowed doorway of the Dark, the brooch and gold stripes of his rank slithering with the fabric as it rolled. Staff in hand, leaning on it as a walking stick, he made a limping beeline toward Chit as Chinea stood in front of him. He still towered over her, shoulders and up, a clear target as his posture stooped the closer his Master came. The older man’s face seemed to bear more lines than before as he used the rod to urge Chinea to the side. The force knocked her breath out and she followed with a huff as she straightened her robes.

“My office. You’re even late for your inquiry. What nonsense has wormed its way into your head, boy?” He spat the words out across Chit’s neck as needles pricking up his neck again. Chit nodded as he tried to withdraw his trembling hands into his sleeves, yet Chinea eased her way back beside Chit with a hand concealed between his shoulders.

“Chit was just finishing eating. I’m afraid he hasn’t felt well, and I was offering him some aid with my latest remedy I mixed into his porridge. It must need some work. Too bitter to handle at the proper dosage. Please take it easy on-” The long, ebony staff connected with her waist on the side that wasn’t squeezed up to Chit and made her crash against him. Chit bent down and scooped her into his arms before she could fall. His tail lashed out without thought, and the table behind them was overturned, porridge and all. The wooden tableware clattered to the floor. His dark eyes watched his own bowl roll into Master Breener’s buckled shoe as porridge flecked over the shine.

“I’ve warned you to remember your duties, Chinea. I will not repeat myself again.”

“With all due respect, my Master.” She panted through clenched teeth as she held to Chit’s shoulder to pull herself back up. “Taking care of the sick is one of my duties.”

“From this moment onward, this one is under my sole supervision. Effective immediately.” Chinea balked and clenched her fists at her sides. Tears stung behind her eyes even as they twitched with indignant rage. Chit straightened his robe and hung his head as he walked forward toward the Master.

“Y-You should head back to the L-Light, M-Mistress.”

“Chit.” Chinea exhaled as her shoulders shook. She walked a few steps away, but then turned back at Master Warren with a cold calm. “I was still his caregiver. I raised him. I expect to be able to see him when I wish.”

“As soon as his punishment is decided and fully enacted upon.” The Master turned, and Chit’s tail dragged across the stones on the floor as it bumped along behind them. They walked off in silence, but for the clack of the staff on the floor that resounded to fill the empty space.

The sun was already low in the sky as Judith pushed past a few stumbling men and women exiting the church doors. Their countenances rang of a fine mood as the hour changed to evening. She had never been this close to the building before, and she wondered for a moment if this was the right entrance. She waved down the first person in robes she saw with a gleeful grin. They wore far different designs from Chit’s clothes, with such vibrant colors, it almost hurt her eyes against the glare of the sunset. The woman with autumn hair smiled and waved back at her calmly.

“Can I help you? I haven’t seen you around before. I’m Freena.” She extended a hand, and Judith shook it gladly, along with most of her thin arm as the young woman’s eyes opened wider.

“I’m here to see Chit. Is he around? We have something I want to talk about, and all I know is he lives here somewhere.” Judith chuckled to herself and peeked around the woman to the open doors behind her. The finery within sparkled and the colorful hangings reflected in prisms out the door as her jaw dropped. “He lives HERE?”

“Not quite.” Freena regained her composure until she realized her hand was now covered in dirt, as were the sleeves and hem of Judith’s dress.

“Oh. You know where he is then?” Judith started for the doors, only to be tugged back by her collar.

“Yes, but… right now isn’t a very good time.” The woman’s sweetened voice lost its sugar as her fingers curled about the hem of the fabric.

“Ah.” Judith nodded and stood in place as people passed her into the church carrying fruit, incense, wine, and all manner of offerings.

“You can come back tomorrow if you like.”

“Tomorrow is a while when the outcome of so much is riding on what he decides.” Judith pouted and crossed her arms as she racked her brain for an idea.

“Well, I um, don’t know about all of that. It’s the best I can tell you on the matter. If you wish to come inside a while and leave a prayer or offering, perhaps indulge to ease your worries, all of that I can help with.” Judith didn’t seem to hear her. Freena had a hand on the door handle, ready to close it in front of her before Judith finally snapped to and lifted her head.

“Can I speak to Chinea? She’s here, right?”

“Well, yes, but… You’re asking to speak with the Mistress out of the blue, and we don’t have any prior knowledge of you. Are you even a devout? A new worshipper? A recruit looking to join should be far younger, so I am afraid if you wish to petition that case you are far too late to-”

“You can trust me. Besides, it’ll be fun to meet her. She’s like his mom or something, right?” Judith ducked under Freena’s still outstretched arm and between her body and the heavy door, with a twist she was able to easily free herself from the grip at her neck. She rose on the other side as the woman in bright orange hurried to shut the doors and follow.

“You cannot just waltz around looking for her! Take a seat, please.” Freena had to jog to keep up with Judith flitting around the area and weaving through the heavily dyed drapes enraptured. A piece of mint-colored silk was tugged toward her face. Her whole form inhaled it with a loud gasp.

“It’s so nice in here! Is that perfume?” Judith exclaimed as she spun and wrapped the cloth about herself. The group she passed sat on large tufted pillows on the floor, and they all cringed at the dirty footsteps and cracked mud that dislodged from her and ended up all around them. A plop echoed in the silence as she spun back out of the fabric. A woman a few years older than Judith herself with just as shiny hair slammed her drink down with a piece of brown floating to the top. Outrage spread until the whole section began to stir, yet the ensuing commotion piqued Chinea’s interest. An older woman stood up from the altar with smoke trails wafting off of her from the incense. Judith’s eyes landed on the small, stocky woman, even if she had to look down to hit eye level. Chinea’s robes gleamed gold through a sheer orange fabric, like clouds covering the sun cast in the diminishing light from the many tall windows of the area. Chinea smiled softly and waved Judith over. Freena tossed up her arms and went to clean up the mess and offer the other patrons some more wine with overlapping apologies.

Judith followed the woman in flowing robes to a multitude of rather plush white chairs in the corner of the room, behind an array of the drapes they had to work together to push aside. The woman let her weight sink into one such chair, but it didn’t seem to relax her at all. Her eyes focused somewhere else as she looked past her guest. Judith took her seat across from her, assuming she had to be the boss. Her hands went to straighten her unruly hair, but only scattered dirt among the tangles.

“How may I help you? I heard Freena call out that you were looking for me in particular?” Her voice was a soothing broth that warmed her stomach.

“Yes. You’re Chit’s mom, right?” Judith set her hands back at her sides to feel the softness of where she sat. Chinea’s gaze flew back to focus on Judith in the space of a blink.

“Not quite.” Brown eyes looked the girl over in one quick nod before her smile widened. “I take it your name is Judith then?”

“How did you know?” Her dominant hand reached for her staff leaned against her seat and gripped tight.

“No one would come here talking about Chit, except maybe the girl he just mentioned to me at breakfast this morning.” Chinea leaned on one hand and gave her another once over. Judith looked down following her gaze and shrugged, which caused Chinea to giggle. “He said he helped you with something quite private. Do not fret. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“I finished up and did pretty much all the work in the end, but he did help me get home. I wanted to see how he’s doing and ask if he’s decided on what Maleth said to us.” Chinea stared at her as her skin erupted in goosebumps.

“Maleth… asked you. You’re sure of that name? I believed someone else may have taken up residence. The Light hasn’t corresponded with them since-” Her fingers twirled around the yellow ribbons that hung off her waist cincher until her skin turned colors. There was a moment of perfect clarity in her expression, but also fear that made her back rigid. Judith nodded as she gazed all around the room at the glimmering goblets and trinkets. Her hand reached toward a bauble made of the thinnest colored glass she’d ever seen, but she drew it back to her lap and stayed it under her other hand.

“So, where is Chit? I think the lady at the door said he was busy. I can wait if I need to.” Judith poked a hummingbird wind chime and jumped a little when it started to tinkle. The sound carried on as she quickly put her hands in her lap again to face forward. Chinea shook her head at the girl and went to go fumble in a trunk behind her. Her middle was bent over the wood as she reached deep inside and came back carrying another dress of gold and orange that dangled with multiple layers of varying cloth, the likes of which she had only seen on the wealthier merchants in town. Her hands reached out eagerly to feel the fabric between her fingers. It was so thin it was sheer, but the layers overlapped and made it colorful and light, but still modest enough to wear in town, maybe.

“You should change clothes. We’ll wash yours and get them back to you as soon as we’re able, so for the time, let us care for you in a way befitting a newcomer.”

“Oh. I guess changing would be a good idea.” Judith stared greedily at the dress. Her hands let go of the fabric, only long enough to reach for the back of her dress and hike it up overhead. Chinea guffawed and had to still her laughter with both hands. She had to stretch to help the young girl maneuver the new layers around her body and tie the corsetry in the back. Judith gasped as Chinea pulled the strings so taut she felt her chest try and heave out the top. She tried to stuff herself back down, not being used to her bust sticking out so much.

“You’re a miniature string bean, but you are pretty cute.” The rotund hands left the dress once it was finished and started to shake a few sticks out of Judith’s hair. A comb was pulled off her tidy desk and raked through the tangles with utmost care as sticks clattered to the floor. Judith was boiling over rocking back and forth on her heels as her head was pulled back with a tug. The words bubbled outward.

“Thanks! It’s been ages since I heard that. My dad used to gush all the time over me and my Sis being cute.”

“I called you cute before…” Jacob murmured, and she directed her gaze over to his glow at the edge of Chinea’s desk and smiled at him in reassurance. Her father chucked him on the shoulder before wrapping the same arm around his shoulders. Jacob smiled some at that, and Judith’s smile widened with an added burst of giggles.

Chinea gave her a look from one side, but then shook her head. Her fingers separated her hair like second nature as she reached to a shelf beside Judith’s head for some ribbon. She held the tips of the black silk in her mouth and let them hang as she formed two buns with braids trailing from them. The black silk was interlaced in the braids and made the shine in Judith’s hair stand out all the more in contrast. There was plenty of hair still left down in loose waves that Chinea struggled to get the brush through.

Once the Mistress of the church was satisfied, she took a seat across from Judith. The lines in her face deepened as her gaze still focused on someplace beyond all the silk and shimmering furniture. Judith played with the new braids between her fingers with a grin. The texture was wholly changed, and the ribbon gleamed in even the lowest light.

“So, can I see Chit soon?” Chinea looked down at her hands, and then to the last smolders and puffs of smoke from multiple sticks of incense that expired on the desk. She heaved a heavy sigh and extended one of her hands to Judith, careful of the pile of ashes on the golden stand emblazoned with a symbol of black and gold waves crashing into one another.

“I can’t help you there. I wish I could, more than anything. If you would like to stay here through the night with us, by the afternoon I would hope we can both see him.” Judith stared at the outstretched hand and gave a quick nod.

“If you think that’s best. Who wouldn’t be happy to spend a night here?” She smiled, but she could feel Jacob and her family move in closer to her with concern. “It will be fine, everyone. Chinea seems nice. They all do.”

The older woman stared at Judith with intent as she went about closing down the church for the night and setting up a spot for Judith to sleep in secret next to her own chamber. The hanging curtains separated everything in the spacious room and were repositioned easily to give her a little nest of her own covered in plush pillows and blankets strewn across the ground. Chinea pulled a powder blue curtain aside as Judith was trying to get comfortable. Another pillow was tossed in her direction, that Judith caught and held to her chest.

“This is the first time I’ve slept somewhere this fancy.” Judith yawned, somewhat drained from the solo burial earlier. It was only then that she fully appreciated the pleasant aroma that surrounded her, resulting from the different incenses mixed in citrus and floral scents that saturated the air. The thought crossed that if she took deep enough breaths she may just fill her belly.

“Maybe you can stay again sometime. For now, rest. I have a few more things to attend to before my respite.”

Judith shut her eyes and pulled a violet, velvet cover to her chin. After a minute, she could hear the curtain rustle again as Chinea walked away. A few minutes more passed and one blue eye opened up to look around. All the bustle from earlier had faded, and the energy had turned subdued and silent to an eerie degree. Judith sat up and looked at the low glows of her spirits around her with a whisper that barely crossed her lips.

“Spread out. See if you can find anything going on nearby. I’ll move to give you all more space if I need to, so let me know. I’ll act like I need some water or something if anyone sees.”

“That is a bad plan, Judith. Chinea is obviously upset about something, but she said even she couldn’t do anything about it. She’s the second-highest rank here!” Jacob huffed and settled near her shoulder. “We could wait like we were asked.”

“You know I’m not the patient type; besides I’m worried now. If she’s his mom, then why can’t she even go see him?” Judith pushed her lip out and Jacob groaned before his purple light was the first to leave her sight. Her family followed soon after, and she was left alone with nothing but the flickering candlelight from beyond her enclosure to help her watch for them, or any obstacles.

Meanwhile, Chit’s shoulder skidded across the stone floor of a room he had grown far too used to over the years. He placed his hand over the new wound and winced as he looked up at Master Brenner while he slammed and locked the door. The cold floor soothed his other bruises and bumps, so he lay back and let it be, but the Master continued to stare at him through a few short bars high atop the door.

“You will stay here overnight.” The harsh tone made Chit’s tail curl beside him. He shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the displeasure on top of the audible disdain this man had for him.

“W-What else?” Chit sighed and rubbed at some bleeding marks on his tail.

“You will be here every night henceforth, as well as every day. Unless I declare otherwise.”

That made the breath freeze in his lungs. Chit slowly raised his head to glimpse Master Brenner’s face. The way he watched Chit surveying his wounds was apathetic at best, but his tone and his shoulders held firm with his authority. Chit scrambled to his feet and placed his palms open on the door.

“You can’t m-mean that. I haven’t done a-anything warranting th-that! Where’s the c-council!?” His tail struck the floor as his mind began to race while his sentencing took hold in the clamminess of his skin.

“I will have scrolls delivered to you so you may complete your tasks.” The Master’s voice trailed off as he cracked his staff on the door, and Chit jumped back with a hiss and blistering burns on his hands. He knelt and cooled them on the stones, but his stunned gaze never left the Master until he walked out of frame.

Not long after the corridor fell silent, his first delivery arrived, from the very boy he trained with in the pit. Chit was none too pleased to see him and barely bothered with a greeting as he swung his tail about in a half-hearted wave. A clatter on the floor drew his attention as the scrolls were pushed through the bars above one by one. Chit gathered them in his tail and laid them in the farthest corner of his new accommodations. He barely had to even stretch since the room was so small. If he lay flat, he could nearly touch both walls with his fingers.

“There a-are no c-candles in here. The light from the t-torches in the hall w-won’t do unless he wants m-me blind too.” Chit thwacked the scrolls, and they bent under the force. His spine bent as well, curled up with his head on his knees. Another clack rang out, followed by a hollow thud, but Chit didn’t bother to raise his head again. The boy hit the iron bars with a clang so loud Chit jumped and had to look.

A dagger was pressed against the iron as the sound continued to reverberate in his head. A wide chin set atop the ledge around the bars with heavy lids over the boy’s eyes. There were candles, matches, and a sizeable chunk of bread lying below on Chit’s side of the door. A deep groan drowned out the fading noise as his muscular forearm shoved through the bars. The sleeve of his robes rumpled back and exposed a fresh branding in the exact middle between his palm and the bend of his elbow. The flesh was red and raised in bumps in places with the seal, a familiar circle filled with two contrasting colors for the Light and Dark aspects that melded and opposed each other in a strange dance. Chit pinched at the same symbol he wore around his neck in color, while the brand was only red. The other initiate laughed at Chit’s reaction.

“What’s so f-funny, Geraine?”

“You probably won’t even flinch when you get it. You’re so used to bleeding by now, you know?” He peeked down at the items on the floor. “Going to waste it? Lotta good that will do you.”

“Why the f-food? It’s not c-custom.”

“Not going to let another one of us starve. Ain’t right. Master’s got his reasons for things, but I got a conscience too. If you’re down here for who knows how long, then you got to eat. Candles can help you not go nuts after a couple of days. Trust me on that. The shadows in here start to get to you.”

Chit leveled a glare in his direction. The bread was scooped up in his tail and brought to his mouth. The two stared at each other as crumbs fell and dissolved on the stones in the damp chamber. Once Chit had finished, he looked up with a calmer disposition.

“Hey.” The brand disappeared from view as Geraine took back his arm. “Your ol’ babysitter may have had the right idea.” He mumbled before his steps faded away down the hall, leaving Chit to curl up in the corner with his thoughts.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Just Ask

Prompts: Hey… So, I was wondering if you could write a fic where one of the sides are dyslexic? Since that usually just ends as "Oh, I can't read, oh no!" and not like the actual neurodiversity it is. Yes, I admit, I want to relate to one too, but… Well. It'd be awesome if you would, but if that's too tall an order or too specific that's fine too. If you do, though, maybe college AU with roceit? -anon

Hi you're amazing! I love your writing and brand of writing and just I've read a lot of your stories and I love them all kskejejwuwugfhsv-

I was wondering, if you take requests, that maybe you could write a human AU with fake dating Roceit? With confident fat Janus because we need that! Or not, that's your choice!

(I sound like some snob asking for a highly specific coffee shi-) - anon

oh babe y'all wanted to be FED huh

Read on Ao3

Warnings: slight ableist/fatphobic language

Pairings: roceit

Word Count: 2487

Sometimes, you can get all of your work done in the library. Sometimes, people are ableists.

And sometimes there's something wonderful in finding out there's someone there for you as well.

Roman scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. Between waiting ages at the printer or absolutely destroying his retinas by staring at a screen for hours on end, he isn’t unhappy with making the choice to save the environment by using less paper but god.

“At least this pdf was convertible,” he mutters, scrolling down to see how many pages he has left. The last four weren’t and reading without the right font is a fucking pain in the ass.

Seven pages left. Great.

Roman focuses on the screen and starts to mutter under his breath again. Focus on the word, figure it out, make the sentence, move on. Pause to take notes, make sure it’s legible to read later, and repeat.

A computer and heavy bag thuds onto the table next to him and he jumps, almost knocking his coffee over. He looks up, glaring at the person who stares down their nose at him like he’s some sort of stain. Rude.

“You’ve been here for like, three hours, dude,” they say, like that’s supposed to justify their behavior, “move. I need this spot.”

Roman looks around. There’s like, four more tables open. “Can’t you just go sit somewhere else?”

“No! This is my spot! You can go sit somewhere else.”

“Well,” Roman mutters, glaring at his screen again, “I was here first. So you can either wait until I’m done or sit down.”

“Dude, I swear—“

“Excuse me,” comes a smooth voice that has no business being this polished in the fucking library, “is this person bothering you, sweetie?”

Roman turns around and his mouth drops open.

“J-Janus?”

Janus raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and glaring at the dick with the heavy bag. Who, as a matter of fact, seems to be muttering and stuffing shit back into said bag.

“Sorry I’m late,” Janus drawls, still sounding way too confident and way too much like he knows what’s going on, “got held up after class.”

“Uh, no problem,” he mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to see the asshole is still standing there, “just, um…working.”

“Ah, well then, you won’t mind if I join you.” And with that, Janus sits down with a flourish, propping his chin up on his hand and fixing the asshole with an impressive look of disgust. “And you…you can leave.”

“Look, buddy—“

“My partner and I have work to do,” Janus says, swiftly cutting them off and making sure Roman has no idea what’s going on, “now leave.”

Roman’s really glad there was no ambiguity that Janus could’ve been talking to him, because he’s about ready to bolt. Only when the asshole has retreated does Janus turn his gaze to him.

“Sorry about that,” he says, flicking a speck of imaginary lint from his gloves, “he seemed like he was bothering you. Thanks for playing along.”

“Oh, uh, no, I’m, uh—“ Janus raises an eyebrow as Roman stumbles over his words— “sorry. Uh, thanks?”

Janus chuckles. “Oh, no worries, sweetie. I was happy to do it. Although…”

Janus squints at him and Roman fights the urge to squirm under that gaze.

“You’re in my seminar class, aren’t you?” Roman nods. “The one that let out three hours ago?”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

“Have you…been here since then?”

Roman nods, trying to get back to work and, you know, maybe get out of here, only for Janus to reach across the table and still his hands as he goes to pick up the pen again.

“Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“Eaten,” Janus says slowly, mouth stretching into a smile, “lunch, sweetie.”

“Uh—“ no, is the correct answer— “I was going to?”

Janus just gives him a look.

“…no.”

“Mm.” Janus glances at his computer and notebook. “You’re not by any chance attempting to read all of the assignments in one go, are you?”

Roman’s guilty flush seems to answer that question for him. Janus sighs and it’s such an odd mixture of disappointment and fondness Roman hasn’t earned that his brain spits out the only question he actually wants an answer to.

“Why are you here?”

Janus chuckles. “In the library, at this school, or are we already to the point of questioning the very nature of existence?”

Roman just blinks at him.

“Oh, relax, sweetie, I’m teasing.” Janus glances off in the vague direction the asshole wandered off to. He leans a little closer. “I know how…difficult it can be to try and do work when they bother you.”

Roman’s cheeks flush. “Oh, uh…thanks, then.”

Janus waves a hand. “It’s none of their business why you’re doing so much work at once. Even if it does make you skip lunch,” he adds with such a pointed look that Roman can’t help splutter.

“I was going to! And you’re not my mother!”

“No,” Janus purrs, “but like any good partner, I like to make sure my sweetie takes care of themselves.”

Roman does not squeak, despite Janus’s chuckles, but he does start to fiddle with his pen. “I can’t…stop yet.”

“Why ever not?”

“Can you stop,” Roman blurts, scrubbing his hands over his blushing face, “please? For like, two seconds?”

“Sorry, you’re just adorable.”

“Stop, dude, seriously, if you want an actual answer to the question?”

“I’m done,” Janus chuckles, “I’m done, sorry.”

Roman takes a deep breath. He fiddles with the pen. “It’s just—with my dyslexia, it takes a while to…find the, um…”

“Zone?”

“…sure.”

Janus hums in understanding. Then he reaches into his own bag and pulls out a book of his own. “Then we may as well work together until you’re finished.”

Roman blinks. Hi, hello, brain is confused, what just happened in the last five minutes?

Janus waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Sweetie? You okay?”

“Sorry, I’m just—trying to process what happened.” Roman blinks again. “Because it seems like some asshole tried to take my seat, you came up and pretended to be my partner to scare them away, proceeded to badger me about taking care of myself, and now you’re…still here?”

Janus nods. “That’s how I experienced it too, that’s correct.”

“…so now what’re we doing?”

“Well, I’m also going to try and get some work done, you’re going to finish your work, and then we’re going to get lunch.”

“And what about the dude that now thinks we’re partners?”

Janus looks at him and shrugs. “I’m game if you are.”

Roman blinks again. Is…Janus suggesting they fake being in a relationship to, what, defend Roman’s right to sit wherever the fuck he wants for however long in a library?

“What’s in it for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Roman says, “what’s in it for you?”

Janus’s fingers still on the book he’s pulled out. He sighs and looks up at Roman.

“How long have you known about your dyslexia?”

Jumping around a bit here, aren’t we? “About six years, why?”

“And you know how to manage it? For you?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“That doesn’t mean it goes away,” Janus says softly, “it’s still work, you just…know how to do it now.”

“Yeah, it still takes me time to do things, why—“ Roman’s eyes widen— “oh. Oh, wait, you mean—wait, what do they have against you?”

Janus’s mouth tugs up into a smirk. “How sweet.”

“Shut up,” Roman mumbles, “you know what I mean.”

Janus just winks at him before sobering. “Well,” he says wryly, gesturing at himself, “surely you can understand that…not everyone treats you very well when you aren’t the circumference of a toothpick.”

Oh. They’re those kind of assholes. Something Janus chuckles about when that thought gets out before Roman can stop them.

“Quite. I can manage them, but it’s still work.” He looks at Roman. “Maybe we can split the load?”

“I’m down with that.”

“Wonderful. Now,” Janus says, mock sternly, “get back to work. We have lunch to get.”

Roman chuckles. “Sure, sure, don’t ask to borrow my notes.”

“I would never, I just forget things like a cool person and make things up that the professor likes to hear.”

Yeah, this is gonna go just fine.

As it turns out, it does. Roman won’t lie, he was…skeptical about the viability of this plan of theirs. He’s read the stories. He knows how this works. He knows about the misunderstandings and whether it’s a bet or a dare, something goes wrong.

But…nothing does.

Watching Janus tear anyone to shreds is entertaining enough in class, where Roman gives up on taking debate notes and just watches because goddamn, but when he gets to stand there and just glare at some ableist while Janus verbally decimates them? Poetic cinema. He debates sneaking some popcorn into his jacket pocket but that would take away from the power of his glare.

And it is nice to have someone else do the work of glaring assholes away from his table when he’s working on reading. He would be lying if he said that actually having someone else to talk to isn’t part of it. It’s so much easier to keep track of where he’s messing up so he can focus on it during his exercises later.

“You know,” Janus remarks as they leave the library one day, “you can ask the professors for editable pdfs.”

“Huh?”

“For your font stuff.” Janus nods toward his backpack. “I know you like to change the font so you can read it better, most of them have editable copies of the materials.”

“Not for the eBooks and scans and stuff.”

Janus huffs, waving his hand. “How do you think they get the audio transcripts for the recorded versions? They have to transcribe it anyway, just ask for those.”

Roman stops. “How…how do you know those exist?”

Janus just taps the side of his nose and winks.

“Can…can you do that?”

“Of course.” Janus links his arm through Roman’s. “Anything for you.”

That shouldn’t do what it does to Roman’s chest.

Because yeah, okay, maybe Janus is…really cute.

Like, unfairly cute.

No one should be able to rock that hat all the time. And the gloves. And the pocket watch. And the curly hair. And the attitude. And the impressive vocabulary. And the razor-sharp wit. And he actually knows how to flirt! What is flirting? All Roman knows is Gay Panic™ and Suffering™. What is this? Why is it allowed?

And why, oh why, did Janus have to be the one that started the fake-dating idea?

Because here’s the thing. It would be so easy to just be friends with Janus. It would! They’re already friends now, fake-dating kind of does that to you. And Janus, despite what he wants everyone else to believe, is a fucking dork. His actual laugh is squeaky and bubbly and ugh, Roman could drown in it. And he’s really kind. It’s not the same breed of kind that Roman’s used to, but goddamn, Janus is so sweet when he lets himself be. And it’s been so long since Roman had like, an actual friend…

But it would also be so easy to be more than friends with Janus. To actually be able to take him out for dates and not just lunch at their janky cafeteria. To be able to spend time together that isn’t just for show, or platonic, or just hanging out ranting about stupid dead supposed-to-be-smart people.

Again, Roman’s read the stories. He knows how this is supposed to go.

So when he takes a little longer to pack up one day, enough that Janus notices and eases himself back down into his seat with a soft, real, ‘what’s wrong, sweetie, let me help,’ Roman prepares the bittersweet ‘nothing, I’m fine,’ and to swallow down everything real.

But instead…

“Can we, um, actually date?”

Janus blinks. “Come again, sweetie?”

Roman fiddles with the buckle on his bag. “I, um, I really appreciate what we’ve been doing, and I, um, I’m super happy being your friend…”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“…but I, um—“ god, why are words so hard?— “I think I would actually like to try…dating you. For real.”

He peeks up nervously at Janus.

“Is…is that okay?”

Janus sits there, silent. He blinks a few times. Then a slow, real smile spreads across his face.

“Roman,” he says softly, almost too quiet, even in the hush of the library, “why do you think I proposed this idea in the first place?”

Oh.

Oh.

Roman blinks. “Wait, you—you?”

A pretty flush covers Janus’s face. “Well, I…was planning to ask you normally, but then I saw you being absolutely tormented and…panicked.”

“You panicked?”

He throws his hands up. “Well, what was I supposed to do? The most gorgeous person in my seminar was being bullied and I was supposed to just let it happen?”

Wait. Back up. Roman is what?

“And yes, maybe I...wanted an excuse to be your friend first, but as I said, I panicked and so—“

“You—wait, you think I’m pretty?”

Janus stops, mouth open, before he’s scoffing. “Roman, have you seen yourself?”

“Uh—“

“At least you’re pretty,” Janus mutters under his breath, “pretty and dumb, but pretty.”

“Hey!”

“You can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time, sweetie.”

“Oh, says the man whose idea was to fake-date me because you wanted to actually ask me out!”

“I will not be lectured on dramatics from a theater kid.”

“That’s ex-theater kid to you.”

“Oh, you know once you go, you never come back.”

Roman giggles. Then he’s laughing. Janus joins in and oh, this is much better than shoving feelings down and pretending they don’t exist.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“No,” Janus purrs, reaching over to boop the end of Roman’s nose, “I’m your fucking dork.”

Oh. Oh, that sounds…really good. Roman’s chest is really warm now, when did that happen? Janus smiles too.

“So…dinner?”

“You’re paying.”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

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[creativeashproductions]

Subconscious Match Making // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Kenny brings in his niece Y/N and her band to provide a demonstration of the stage presence of a band. More than happy Tarnished Poets become mentors during the process of bootcamp. Charlie’s eye is stuck on Kenny’s niece; Kenny’s so powerful he subconsciously did match making

Warning: Swearing, talk about car accident, angst, and fluff.

Words: 4.6k

A/N: The song used by my fictional band is High Hopes by the Australian band Yours Truly.

Masterlist

Being part of the audition aspect of Julie and the Phantoms was unreal, especially being young with such an opportunity. The timing couldn’t be better with the band stationed stateside for recording; Kenny had presented the offer to mentor during auditions. The capacity as a musician mentor was alien, but you would do anything for the guy you considered an uncle.

Stopping briefly at the bathroom, you encountered one of the options for Julie that Kenny had sent in the PDF file of people auditioning. As you stepped up to wash your hands, you noticed her lips moving along to the song they had been given.

“Are you okay?” You questioned turning to face the teenager no more than fifteen at the most. Her brown eyes colliding with yours unable to hide the nerves, “You’re auditioning for Kenny Ortega’s show, right?”

“Yeah. I’m Madison.” The girl spoke, holding out her hand to shake, “Are you auditioning for Carrie?”

You smiled at her question, “No.”

Julie went to answer before the glance at her watch, startled her barely getting a goodbye out before she was rushing out the door. You went back to drying your hands before heading to the room Kenny had messaged you about. It was a large room with people sitting at tables and four people on stage. All in a circle speaking quietly, you took the opportunity to settle beside Kenny and your three band members.

“Hey Kenny.” You murmured turning to the man, the myth, legend Kenny Ortega himself. The man beamed at you as he had not seen you in months due to touring.

“Y/N! Sweetheart.” Kenny spoke, taking in the differences, the bags under your eyes gone from the last time he had a video call, “You look stunning as usual.”

You chuckled at his compliment, feeling he was right; sleep was definitely better when not on a travelling bus. Late nights now found at the recording studio with the band and less stress on being hounded by fans.

“So, what do you want us to do?” You questioned glancing at the quartet on the stage each keeping their attention on each other, “Who are they?”

Kenny glanced at his colleagues ready for the day to start, “This the first time they will be performing on the stage as the band. They don’t know yet. As being their age, I’d like you to show them the dynamic we’re looking for.”

You nodded along with Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Kenny’s happy smile directed you guys for a second before turning to the stage. Huddling with your bandmates, you started throwing out song choices, one the most challenging things.

“Okay. Before we have you sing Bright, I convinced my niece to join us while they are off touring.” Kenny told the actors gesturing to the band in a huddle unbothered at the lack of listening, “Okay.”

Turning as Kenny’s voice centred towards you, the people on the stage caught sight of you all; Madison’s eyes grew. She adored your music, and not recognizing you in the bathroom, burnt her. The other guys were less familiar with the band other than Owen who knew them through Madison and Savannah.

“This is my niece Y/N along with her band members Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Tarnished Poets this is candidates for the show Charlie, Jeremy, Owen and Madison.” Kenny gestured to the two separate groups who quickly switched.

With a vast amount of experience, the small stage revamped itself with the band’s personal instruments. People held to move the stage drums to replace with Brad’s drums behind the clear plastic with quick succession as the remaining members took their places.

Your dark wash jean jacket tossed to the side of the stage mere seconds before Lachlan’s fingers started the song off with shredding on his baby pink guitar. The room melted away from your mind as the four got lost in the music.

You got the nerve to come and say 

That you’re not standing in my way

When we both know

Eyes closed you moved to the fast beats feeling on the top of the world as if nothing would knock you down.

The room was quiet aside from the music enthralling the occupants as this band shocked everyone but Madison and Kenny. This was precisely how Kenny envisioned Julie and the band would be like as the room burst into noise as if it was a concert. The stage was electrifying, and the actors couldn’t sit still with big smiles and bodies moving to the beat.

Well I’ve had high hopes up til now

 And I was kinda hoping. 

 You could be my hero

 You could be my hero

At the lull, in words, the guitars and the drums wove through the room as you flipped your hair side to side concealing the expression. The music brought a feeling euphoria to you as it always had because nothing made you feel as alive.

You never stayed in one place when you weren’t cupping the microphone singing you jammed with the others. Cleaning removing the mic from the stand you move to face Brad through the clear screen with a grin. A smooth practised twirl you found yourself by the bassist Jay delving into the lyrics once more.

You can’t take it back

With all, I’ve tried 

And I know that you can’t shape me

Moving back in fluid motion Lachlan and you switched places across the stage from Jay. Lachlan began his solo ending just as you circled back to your original positions. Everyone had watched Lachlan they missed your microphone being replaced in the stand.

As the song came to an end, you ended the last note bending to the side with the stand, every member leaning over to the floor. The guitar notes faded as the room burst into applause.

“This is what I want the band to be like!” Kenny called moving to the stage you hug you, “I knew I chose the right people. Did you see how they commanded the stage? They used the entirety, exploding with energy.”

Charlie’s jaw was dropped at how great the band was, they transformed the room into a concert, and you were damn good. Owen reached over and gently pushed Charlie’s jaw back up without looking; this move alone gave Kenny insight into the dynamic between the actors.

“Can you all come up here?” You asked the four actors moving aside for them as they stationed themselves you all wandered around, “Naturally you’ve all equally spaced yourselves out. That’s good because you understand you need space to rock out, but it comes with a negative.”

Lachlan stepped forth his accent, bringing the group to surprise, “But don’t stay in the box you’ve created. The stage is yours. You’re a band so interact.”

“Don’t play the music. Become the music you play, Luke doesn’t just love music. It’s in his blood and part of his soul.” You finished squeezing the arm of Charlie, eyes fractionally widening at the solid muscle. Charlie’s eyes glued to your eyes he didn’t notice as you gently pushed the white guitar into his chest.

“Show us Luke’s bond with music.” You softly spoke, backing away from the Canadian male turning on your heel to sit with Kenny again.

Your eyes couldn’t help but return to the male with the cut off shirt, and his hair pushed up out of his face. Suspenders connected to his jeans rolled above the brown boots. Your lips parted as Madison introduced the group.

“Hi, we’re Julie and the Phantoms I hope you enjoy.” The girl spoke before the group transformed in front of the group. They were no longer actors hoping for roles, but they became the characters they desired to play.

Charlie melted into the character of Luke with ease; it was beautiful and poetic. What they didn’t know was that they were, in fact, the band.

As the music died down, you relaxed into the chair as Kenny cheered with his hands high in the air with the entire room as they bowed. Kenny’s teasing grin glanced back as he approached the stairs to the huddled youth.

“I don’t know. Can we?” Kenny spoke to the audience amused with the anticipation of the stage.

“Do it!” You called out with a grin along with the rest of Tarnished Poets keeping your eyes on Charlie. His energy intrigued you incredibly.

“Yeah you are our band.” Kenny announced changing the lives of the official cast forever. The quartet exclaimed in response clutching each other close as if they had been friends for years instead of months.

Charlie’s grin fluttered your heart as you leaned back, watching the excited group knowing you would be watching the show when it came out.

 The summer breeze was serene in the quiet area outside of the beautiful city of Vancouver, Canada where filming had commenced. Scheduling was perfect with the members of Tarnished Poets breaking off for the break. Lachlan returned to his family in Perth, Australia while Brad and Jay decided on a road trip in their home state.

You had accompanied Kenny to Canada for the first part of filming moving into a small house near the set. The home quickly became the hub of the cast with the close proximation to filming, you had even given Charlie the spare key. You two incredibly close.

“So, this is where you disappear to.” The teasing voice came from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you met the gaze of Charlie’s hazel eyes.

He moved through the meadow to the tree you found shade under with your guitar nearby. You always had a feeling the adventurous guy would find the trail to the meadow you frequented. His forest green shirt bringing out the green of his eyes that you adored. As if you were a character in a Tumblr story, you fell for him and wondered if he felt the same.

“Sometimes I need to leave the city. I spent too much time in them.” You spoke, closing the notebook of the song you were working on. It wasn’t one you planned on using for Tarnished Poets, but instead something you hesitated on showing Kenny.

 “I didn’t know you could play the guitar.” Charlie softly spoke gently, stroked the neck of the well-used guitar. Passed down from your mom who loved playing at cafes in her teens and into her early 20s.

“Probably because we perform with electric more often. Plus, I like doing vocals.” You spoke shuffling to face him, “So it took you over a month to find this meadow.”

Charlie chuckled glancing at the notebook with interest. He always wanted to know more about you from the moment he saw you.

“What are you working on?” He questioned slowly grasping the notebook in his hand. Usually, you would be shy and letting someone see an unfinished song. Still, something about Charlie never made you feel nervous.

“A song about regret over hurting someone.” You softly replied, moving to bring your knees into your chest thinking about one of the final devasting moments, “I’m kinda the female counterpart of Luke. I grew up in a small town where people had reliable jobs. I always loved music. My mom taught me to play the guitar.”

“Yeah?” Charlie smiled, wondering what a kid version of you would have been like. Your eyes raised to meet his.

“Her dream was to make a living out of her music, and she got rejected. A lot. I think she lost a part of herself when she gave up for a secure, stable job as an accountant. Didn’t mean she didn’t still love to play, so she taught me how to play as a hobby.”

“But you loved it like she did.” Charlie breathed picking up where the story would be going so he gently took your hand in his; something not unusual with you two.

“I posted videos of covers on YouTube and Lachlan saw it. He had moved to America to make his dream and closely, our band came together. We did some gigs around my hometown even making the long trips to the city.” You reminisced on the times where you were an underground band with a small following. Things went sour when you hit more immense success, “We had the opportunity for our music, and at eighteen we took it.”

Slowly you leaned into the body of Charlie relaxing as his arms encompassed you in a feeling of safety and warmth. His fingers tangling in your hair as he focused on your story.

“My parents found out, and Mom just exploded. We both said cruel things, and I left that night. We played gigs constantly, so I always pushed back, making up with her. Six months into the move, she got into a car accident.” You sighed nestling further into Charlie, “I wrote that song, but I couldn’t even finish it, but with Luke’s storyline, I think it would be perfect. I’m polishing it up to present to Kenny.”

“What’s it called?” He inquired, smiling as you shifted to lean your back against his chest to cradle the guitar in your lap.

“Unsaid Emily. My mom’s name is Emily.” Your words nearly buried under the soft notes from the guitar. Your lips opened to sing, but you didn’t have to. Charlie started it.

The emotion was raw in the air as the power in his voice brought you to tears, unable to do more than strum the guitar and harmonizing at one point. It was like Unsaid Emily was made for Charlie to sing. At that moment you knew, this was the song Luke needed to do for his mom in the show; however, it could be incorporated.

Overcome with an emotion you pushed to your knees to cup his cheeks as he trailed off the last word. The guitar keeping you from pressing your chests together to kiss you poured your feelings in the kiss. A kiss he returned with gusto.

“Whoa.” Charlie breathed, keeping his forehead connected to yours smiling as your eyelashes tickled his cheeks. Calloused fingers set the guitar aside as he tugged you into his chest as his lips drew closer.

Your lips parted as a tingle overtook your whole body as he lips caressed yours soft lightly you thought you imagined it. His mouth claimed yours in what might be the most passionate one you’ve ever had. Pulling away, you became aware your hands had flipped under his shirt with knowing.

“Thank you.” You spoke softly looking up through your eyelashes at the guy the grew as important as the band.

Charlie’s cheeks painted a soft pink set off by the hypnotizing brown of his hazel gaze as if you were his whole world. His eyes scanning all your features from the small scar in your hairline thanks to a table edge at six years old.

 “For what?”

“Being you.” You replied tugging fists full of the green shirt to silence her thoughts with another fervent meeting. Yours arm coming to encircle his neck as his hands copied the move on your waist. Sitting on knees time slowed in the toe-curling kiss, he pulled away once more.

 “I could kiss you forever, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.” Charlie spoke, keeping his eyes closed as his fingers pinched his skin. This was what he dreamed of, being able to hold you more than a few seconds of an embrace.

“How is this going to work? My band goes on tour when you’re at the end of filming.” You questioned nestling into his arms again. The future was scary when you both were incredibly busy with the upcoming months.

“I’ll fly over for a few weeks. See you in action.” He chuckled, pushing you away to stand up, “How about we start with dinner first?”

It seemed the universe took pity on a young couple when Charlie took you home to his family to meet. His parents and siblings being the only ones aware of the relationship. Tour came and went with Charlie, using the time before promoting JATP, attended before you flew back to Canada with him.

Being with Charlie was like breathing, necessary and beautiful. You got along with his family as he did with yours. It was remarkable how interconnected you became together in the months committed to the relationship.

“Hey.” Charlie spoke, kissing your cheek in your private home you were renting in the country of Canada. When whispers of the pandemic came around, you had flown from the house you rented in LA with a friend to home.

Charlie had had the same idea to return home to his parents’ home while you settled into a house further away from other people. Charlie walked the distance to your place, and when lockdown came into effect, the decision was, he would stay with you.

“Well hello.” You cheekily responded, resting your fingers on the sleep flush of his cheeks as the glazed look faded.

 Charlie straight out of sleep was by far your favourite version of him with the genuine and raw unguarded emotions he displayed. In the nine months together, you had fallen for him swifter than Swiper from Dora could take items. Completely reciprocated on his side.

“You look happy.” Charlie murmured tracing the path from your temple to the corner of your mouth. The boy with messy hair, he had started growing it out after Julie, and the Phantoms wrapped.

“I am.” You softly spoke, shifting closer to him, “I’ve never been happier than I am tucked away from the world in your arms.”

The flush of Charlie’s cheek no longer came from the nap, but from the attention, you placed on the actor. He could feel the love radiating from your heart just by the look in your eyes.

“I’m going to be incredibly cheesy and reply that I am holding my world in my arms.” He expressed leaning over to press his lips against your forehead raptured by the honour he had at loving you.

“The next few days will be hectic.” You articulated running your hands through the thick brown hair focusing solely on his eyes—the building excitement budding within the actor.

Charlie’s lips parted to reply when his phone vibrated on the side table, “One moment. It’s Owen.”

You shifted out of the camera view per the mutual decision to keep the relationship under wraps for the time being. You absolutely knew the show would be a hit and thousand, make that hundreds of thousands, of people, would crush on the character. By keeping the relationship quiet, it would increase the fanbase because some people honestly only care about looks.

“Hey Buddy!” Charlie beamed at his fellow quarantine hair buddy with over 3,000 kilometres between each other.

“Eh! Charlie!” Owen greeted just as excited at his best friend delving into a story of the recent lego build his mom had made.

“So, the show debuts in a few days. How do you feel about it? I’m excited but also nervous. First leading role.”

“I think people will relate to the show. I mean the music is amazing, and the acting wasn’t too shabby.” Owen replied just about to open his mouth when he slammed it shut. His blue eyes narrowed together, picking up on the odd background. He had to lean closer to his phone, “Either I’m suddenly eighty years old or your definitely not at home.”

“W-what?” Charlie scoffed eyes flicking to the surroundings completely forgetting he was in his girlfriend’s home instead of his parents, “I’m at home.”

“No! We’ve chatted so many times I could draw your family’s house blueprint with my eyes closed. That is a bedroom and it ain’t in the Gillespie home.”

Charlie moaned hanging his head, “C’mon buddy. I’m at home.”

“Charles Gillespie, you have sex hair.” Owen deadpanned unamused at the obvious and quite literally horrible dishonesty from the Canadian male. Charlie’s cheeks puffed as he blew air out of his mouth and taking the ‘L’ in the situation.

“One moment.” He spoke, putting his friend on mute and setting the phone down to create a black screen. The entire short conversation you had delved back into the songbook always on your person, “Babe, Owen won’t let it go.”

“Tell him.” You replied gazing over the rim of your glasses with a smirk scarcely visible to your partner. Your full attention returned to scribbling in the book while Charlie inhaled sharply; psyching himself up.

“Okay. I’m seeing someone.” Charlie admitted sending the blonde into screaming having been suspicious. Jeremy’s wife, then girlfriend, had tried setting Charlie up with countless refusals.

“Who is it?”

“Don’t get upset. I’m dating Y/N-“

“-like Y/N from Tarnished Poets? The musician from Bootcamp that completely made us look like toddlers?” Owen demanded gasping as Charlie panned the FaceTime to the girl under the blankets, “Holy shit!”

“I don’t know how I managed to get her date, but it’s the happiest I’ve been.”

“Hey Owen.” You acknowledged the blonde drummer with a shy smile and kind eyes that he had found numerous times on set. He looked up to you along with loving the suggestions and help Brad gave him on the drums.

“How long have you been together?” Wondered Owen with the cute little smile you found endearing. You felt happy that it was Owen that had pieced it together.

“Going on ten months now-“

“-and I’m only just now finding out!” Owen exploded jittery in his seat at the pairing he had wanted to get together since the unbreakable gaze multiple times on set, “God I love the world!”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? We want to keep this private; you wouldn’t have been told had you not figured it out.”

“More like hounded it.” Charlie muttered under his breath, slinking his arm around your shoulders as his right hand held his phone. You slapped the bare chest of the love of your life heart fluttering at the solid muscle as it always did, “We need to get together as soon as we can.”

“I’m so done. There’s nothing to do in Oklahoma man. So that photo from Tarnished Poet’s European tour was real?” Owen recalled the picture that had crossed his Instagram For You page a few months prior.

“Yeah. I flew over for two weeks having the best time watching my girl kill it on the stage, they destroyed the stage each performance.” Charlie gushed unable to hold himself from frantically telling Owen about you unfazed by your presence.

“Why am I so single!” Owen groaned flinging his head back, “Is it the whole living with my parents at twenty? Am I not established enough?”

“Nah, you’re just too boring.” Charlie quipped thankful he was out of reach of the taller boy earning a laugh from his side. Owen snickered with a quick retort to his fellow actor.

“Well I’d stay and chat, but my phone is at 10%, and I’m too lazy to find my charger.” Owen started waving as he hung up on Charlie without waiting for a reply.

Your lips twitched that the profanity that fell from your boyfriend’s lips at the abrupt end of the call. Owen was like that in the end, living in the moment to an extent. Charlie turned on his side to tug you into his side, uncaring of your task.

“You’ve slept enough.” You chortled at the clinging boyfriend you had.

“Do you think we should tell the cast? Owen will be bursting with the secret if we don’t” queried Charlie pining his gaze on the steadily flushing cheeks with a fondness, “They wouldn’t tell. I really want to brag about my hot rocker girlfriend.”

Your hand dropped the notebook to play with his hair, “We’ll just keep the relationship to close friends and our family.”

Too bad you didn’t place a bet with Charlie because two hours after the convo with Owen your phones harmonized together. Your iPhone showing Carolynn’s cute selfie while Jeremy called Charlie.

“You’re dating Charlie!” Carolynn practically screamed into the phone, completely excited, “Owen told Jeremy, and I have wife privileges.”

“Dude! How long?”

“Near ten months.”

“Damn, we missed so many chances for double dates, but hey now I know who you kept sneaking into the apartment. Not like the smug smirk, the next day and her stiff walking didn’t speak for itself.”

“Jer!” Charlie called out mortified yet also proud that you couldn’t walk the night after. Your reaction was to Jer’s blunt statement was to bury your face in Charlie’s neck, concealing the deep blush.

The two couples conversed a couple more hours before ending in the evening for food. The same routine would continue for the next few days with alternating between the cast. The day Julie and the Phantoms dropped on Netflix, you binged it. The acting was insane and the storyline paired with the songs? Beautiful.

The issue came when Episode 8 came with the tsunami of emotions as Luke shattered himself singing Unsaid Emily.

“Oh my god.” You sniffled shakily cupping your damp cheeks in your hands, “It hurts. He’s having this cathartic release while agonizing himself. His parents can hear him singing the song.”

Charlie tugged you into his side equally moved from the cinematic beauty Kenny’s team had done. Unsaid Emily was the most emotional piece of music you had ever written in your career; Kenny had fallen in love with it. His genius mind recreating the scene of Luke singing and changing his mother’s name to Emily.

“Sh.” Charlie soothed in your ear, rubbing circles on the small of your back crying along with you, “It’s just a show.”

“Where in the hell did you pull off that level of regretful sadness? Who hurt you.” You replied, breathing shakily as the scene. Your eyes still tearing up as Emily finally got a little peace back after losing her son twenty-five years in the past.

“I took inspiration from your story, and I watched a video with a bunch of people describing the last moment with their loved ones. Add some sad music and missing my family…well this happened.” Charlie explained gently pushing your hands away to wipe your damp cheeks in a soft smile, “You created the song. It’s your work that moved so many people.”

“I provided words and a melody. You provided emotion and bridge between Luke and the audience.” You retorted leaning closer to the Canadian boy so very much in love with him.

Charlie pressed another kiss to your forehead as you tried to pull yourself together but watching Luke and Julie try to touch? That shattered you even more. Luke deserved a hug, and he can’t even get one from his crush? Extremely tragic.

“Maybe we should write a song together.” Charlie suggested quirking up one eyebrow as his green eyes spoke volumes on his feelings no words could ever match. His long fingers playing your digits.

“I have a better idea.” You grinned, “I know season two hasn’t been confirmed but what if Jer, Owen, you and Mads write songs for the band? Give an authentic aspect to your characters and band. Do it together, in pairs and alone.” You breathed straddling him to ensure you had his full attention at the suggestion that lit a light in his eyes.

“You must be on to something.” Charlie acknowledged removing his phone from his pocket to use the group chat. In a few minutes, he had exciting suggestions for the song ideas, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You replied, sitting back as he continued planning both via the group chat and FaceTime with the others.

Kenny was a genius both on screen and at matchmaking. As evidenced with Charlie and Kenny’s niece.

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[tacticalhimbo]

Howdy @elena-fishr ! I was paired with ya to celebrate @sstewyhosseini ’s Resident Evil Gift Exchange, and I come bearing a belated gift!

I adored the list of prompts provided, and I had a lot of fun writing out a bonding moment between Chris and Claire (which may or may not have mentions toward some of your other prompts as well 👀)

Let me know if you'd like a more permanent copy of this, too! I'm always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Under a cut for length!

Downtime between missions was a blessing and a curse for the Redfield siblings.

On the one hand, it provided the pair an opportunity to actually connect. To meet up and make sure the other was okay. To kick back and let the weight of the world slip off of their shoulders for that brief moment in time. It provided the pair a small chance at normalcy, or as close as they could get to it. On the other, it was too quiet for the both of them. Chris was more than used to the sound of constant gunfire. The feeling of ammo packs and aid hanging from his torso. The stench of blood and ruin. Claire had, much to his disappointment, gotten used to it all as well, though there was some solace in the fact her work with TerraSave handled more civilian matters. She'd been there in Raccoon City when it went to Hell, and part of him still felt angered that he'd left her. If Leon hadn't found her—

No—today wasn't the day to be thinking of such things.

Thankfully, Claire bounding over with a pair of beers was enough to draw his attention back to the hot summer sun. She smiled, tilting her head as she noted the delay in his acceptance of the offered drink. Try as she might have to hide the worry that crept up her spine, her expression faltered as she sat beside him on the hood of his truck.

"Everything alright?"

"Mhm." He nodded curtly, popping open the top to lazily sip at the chilled drink. "Just... Thinking about work again."

Claire shook her head, nudging his arm with her elbow. "You just don't shut off, do ya?"

It was Chris' turn to nudge, the bulk of his arm bumping against hers as she went to nurse her own bottle. She paused, snickering and giving him an all too familiar look that said well enough: 'Don't start anything you can't finish'. He seceded, at least for the moment, letting a quiet laugh slip as he held up his hand. His smile lingered on his lips, slowly slipping away from his eyes as he looked out toward the road.

“Guess not.”

“Well…” Claire’s voice trailed off, head turning every which way as she looked around the garage. Her wheels were turning, that much was clear by the determined glint in her eyes, but what was it she was trying to do? “Why don’t we channel your energy somewhere else? Forget the BSAA for now, let’s do some work here. How long’s it been since you cleaned the garage?”

Too long, if the misplaced tools and gathering dust was anything to go by. And his silence said the same. Claire rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of the truck’s hood, landing firmly on her feet with a little hop. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was already off to examine the mess of racks and shelves off to the side. She wiped a clear spot with the back of her hand, huffing at the gray cast that now coated her skin, and set her drink down. Chris followed, peering over her head to watch as she eagerly dug through the pile of goodies awaiting them. He opted to step around her, careful in lifting a worse-for-wear box off the shelf. She paused briefly to watch the dirtied packing tape hold just long enough to make it over her head and finally give up just a few mere inches from the cold concrete. A quiet string of curses escaped Chris as he crouched down, hand pressed against his thigh as he rode out the aches the gesture had brought about. He was getting too old for this, especially after that nasty binge he went on in Eastern Europe. Claire watched a moment before turning her attention back to the pile before her. She took a breath in an attempt to swallow the urge to point it out. To ask once more if he was okay. She knew he was. Or, at the very least, that he would be. Deep down, she knew he wouldn't want to talk about any of it. He never did, even back before the city was destroyed. Everything he did with S.T.A.R.S was top secret. Wasn't any of her concern. She knew the red tape was worse now. Trying to get any information from Capitol Hill was a nightmare in of itself, but an organization like the BSAA?

It was a sour realization. One that, thankfully, was washed away as a few familiar notes cut through the air. Chris had, at some point while she was lost in her thoughts, gotten up and found his way back to the truck. He was half in it now, fidgeting with the radio until the volume was just right for the two of them.

"Queen?"

"Course. Found my some of my CDs in that box." He stepped back, humming to himself as he made his way back over to tidy up the controlled mess he'd made.

"Wow, you still haven't outgrown that, have you?" Her voice was light. She was just teasing him, after all. She was more than happy to bob her head and sway along to the fast-paced riffs. And she was very happy to hear the warm laugh that followed the scoff that'd come from behind her.

"Says the one who's always wearing that 'Made in Heaven' jacket I gave you, what, almost 20 years ago?"

"Hey! It's not my fault it still fits. Besides, you'd do the same thing. You do the same thing. How long ago was it that Jill gave you that watch for your birthday?"

"Now hold on—"

Claire peeked over her shoulder and grinned, mischief in her eyes as she watched Chris try to think over his justifications. He had none. She'd gotten him that time.

"That's what I thought," she teased. “Now, are we going to get cleaning, or see who has the better jokes?”

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Split the room and work in?"

"Sounds good."

With that, the pair's chatter simmered to an idle broil as they navigated the mess. Here and there, they'd chime in about things they've found. Simple inquiries of what to do with a stray set of wrenches, or if they'd still needed an older set when they had newer pieces lying around. That, or they'd talk about memories that came into the forefront of their discoveries. How Death on Two Legs could fit a few less than favorable coworkers the two have shared over the years. How a dent in one of the tool boxes was the result of Chris' clumsy self getting caught up in his own boot laces. How Claire could staunchly remember the time she'd banged her head on the tank of her bike's tank when he'd surprised her coming back from one of his first missions with the feds.

And, before they knew it, the garage looked almost brand new. Of course, there was nothing they could do about the oil stains that'd settled in over the years, or the few and far between cracks in the cement that'd come as a result of natural wear or tear. But it was better. It was home.

Or as close as they'd get to it.

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || 14

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. after finally telling him the truth, there’s a lot of tension in the air.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2k

m.list | ch. 13 ↞ ch. 14 ↠ ch. 15

Try as you might, you just couldn’t pay attention to your lecture.

The lecturer droned on in the archetypal slow drawl, slowly clicking through their powerpoint for each new point. Thank God they had the decency to upload the PDF after the lecture – you’d just take all the important notes from that.

Getting back to some sense of normalcy, back to the thrum of everyday life, was supposed to take your mind off things. But it didn’t. Tooru, Hajime, the whole damn mess – it still wavered in the back of your mind, flickering in and out of conscious thought.

It was almost impossible to ignore.

“Give him time,” Iwaizumi had said, exhausted. “It’s up to him now.”

He was right. You knew that. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

Your phone buzzed in your lap. Frowning, you looked down and turned the screen upwards.

Everything stopped. Your eyes shot wide, your heart beating erratically to the tempo of the ringing.

You gathered your things up in an instant and fled from the lecture hall as unobtrusively as possible, hands trembling as you jabbed at the ‘answer call’ icon.

The girls’ bathroom seemed to be empty as you rushed through the doors and sought out the closest cubicle. You held the phone up to your ear as you sat down on the toilet lid, breathless.

“Hello?”

A silence answered you. Had you been too late? Just missed it? Would it be amiss to call back immed—

“Hey.” Tooru’s voice was tight, sharp, unfamiliar.

“Hey,” you echoed, a queasy uneasiness settling in your stomach. Why was he calling you now? Why hadn’t he warned you?

You hadn’t been given any time to prepare.

Maybe he’d done that on purpose. Maybe he was trying to catch you off-guard.

“Did you… did you want to talk?” You asked.

Some part of you still wanted to fight, to get all scrappy and shout again. You didn’t want to grovel, to beg him for forgiveness, to rebuke anything you’d said prior.

But you didn’t want to throw this all away, either. He’s still your brother; even if he’s a brat, even if he’s selfish, even if he’s inconsiderate.

“Yeah,” he swallowed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, totally at a loss of what to say next.

God, this was so awkward. You’d never had this much trouble talking to your brother before. Well, trouble, maybe, but discomfort… It’s almost worse than the anger. At least there’s something to say during the fire. There’s just ash in the aftermath.

“I just…” Tooru sighed. You could visualise him gripping his hair with frustration, or touching his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ah.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

If you’d just said something all those years ago, maybe you could’ve avoided this entire debacle. But how were you supposed to know? You didn’t know anything when you were in high school.

You hadn’t known that you’d be sitting in your university’s bathroom, halfway across the world from home, feeling like you were about to spew your guts out because the thought of talking to your brother terrified you so damn much.

The only time you’d ever been scared of Tooru was when Hajime was involved. But scared of what?  

“I… I thought you’d be mad,” you mumbled.

It sounded silly now. Scared of Tooru? Scared of your own damn brother? Pathetic.

But you weren’t the only one.

“And Iwaizumi, he…” It was all a blur, but you could remember one thing. The fear of disapproval.

Iwaizumi had been terrified that Tooru would disapprove. Worst of all, he’d been afraid that Tooru would misunderstand it all.

“He told me that one of the other guys on the team asked about me,” you said quietly, “and that you got really mad.”

Tooru laughed. “What, he thought I’d disapprove of him just because I didn’t want Yahaba getting anywhere near my sister?”

“I heard you got pretty mad,” you mumbled. In truth, you were still kind of pissed about that. Tooru had no say in who you did and didn’t date – much less who had a right to a relationship with you.

Although, you felt you’d made that much clear the last time you’d spoken to him.

“And let me guess,” Tooru sighed after a long moment, “Iwaizumi didn’t want to create a big mess and pit us against each other and break a bunch of hearts.”

“Mhm,” you nodded slowly.

“Sounds about right…” Tooru grumbled.

“He also was worried that you’d think…” You swallowed roughly, the words sticking to your throat. “That you’d think he was messing around with me.”

It was the worst thing he’d said. The implication that he wasn’t serious, that it was all a game to him; of everything he’d said that awful day, that’d hurt the most.

“Messing around with you?” Tooru scoffed. “Like he’s the type of guy to do that…”

There was comfort in hearing those words. But they have a different pallor from the last time you’d spoken with him; had Hajime’s words moved him so much? What had been said between them? You hadn’t asked out of fear, but maybe you should’ve…

“You sounded pretty angry the other day,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, but…”

There was still a terseness in his voice, an edge that he couldn’t soften.

He was trying. Hard. He wasn’t hiding how he felt, but he was… containing it. Was he coddling you?

No. No, he was trying to be reasonable. You couldn’t fault him for that, at least.

“Look… I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not mad,” Tooru sighed.

Your gut twisted, your instincts screaming at you to hang up, to avoid Tooru for the rest of time, to do anything you could to avoid that anger. You’d faced it once; you never wanted to face it again.

But Tooru didn’t raise his voice. If he really was still mad, he was stymieing it gently, keeping it contained.

“I just…” His words were quiet, barely audible. “I just want to understand what went wrong.”

Your thoughts skidded to a halt. “What went wrong?”

That’s… a big question. A really big question. One with all sorts of caveats, countless nooks and crannies to fall into and get lost in. Hell, you weren’t even sure if the two of you had the same interpretation of that question.

“Well… neither of you told me, right? But from the sounds of it, you got pretty hurt.”

That felt like an understatement. But what would Tooru know? What could Tooru know?

“I… I don’t know, Tooru,” you sighed. You were no longer the kid you were back then. “Hajime made the decisions but I… I just went along with it. I didn’t… advocate for myself, I guess.”

You couldn’t blame yourself for that. There you were, infatuated with your older brother’s friend, and terrified of making a mess.

And that’d been considerate of you. There was no reason to be upset with yourself for thinking about others.

But you’d forgotten yourself, letting your own feelings get shoved aside for a ‘maybe’. ‘Maybe’ you’d break up. ‘Maybe’ Tooru would be mad. ‘Maybe’ it’d cause a mess. How were you supposed to live your life protecting other people from possibilities, from problems that hadn’t even taken root?

A ‘maybe’ meant you could prepare. Meant you could make promises, make vows, make sure that the outcome wouldn’t be as bad as any of you feared. As much as you could.

“I think Iwaizumi was more scared than I was,” you admitted.

Perhaps it’s not your secret to tell; frankly, you don’t really know if it’s true. But you knew Iwaizumi, and you knew his heart.

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but it felt like the truth. Maybe he’d had more to lose than you. Maybe he was worried that his relationship with Tooru would never recover. You had the safety net of being a family member; someone he’d have to forgive one day, even if the mere act of dating his friend seemed like an insurmountable transgression to him.

Iwaizumi didn’t have that security.

Tooru was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “What, did he feel like he was betraying me or something?”

Your stomach twisted at his choice of words.

“Not… not that I ‘own’ you,” he mumbled, as though tripping over what he just said. “But, you know… teenage brains and all that. They’re not exactly reasonable.”

You bit your lip, frowning. “I mean, I can’t be sure… You’d have to ask him about that.”

“Right…” Tooru sighed for what felt like the thousandth time this conversation. Well, at least he wasn’t shouting.

“Can I ask you a question?” Tooru asked, surprisingly apprehensive.

“Sure.”

“Did you ever hate me for it?’

The question shot through you with a jolt.

The unfortunate truth was yes. In a way, you had. It was hard not to feel some kind of bitterness towards him – for being so bright, for being so ambitious. And of course, for what happened with Iwaizumi. It felt like you’d lived half your life in a shadow, unable to distinguish yourself as anything other than ‘Tooru’s younger sister.’

But there was no way to say that. Not when it’s complicated. Not when it’s your brother.

“Nevermind,” Tooru said, clearing his throat. “Look, just… keep me in the loop from now on, okay?”

You grimaced. “You want to know all the details?”

“Of course not!” He damn near shrieked. “Just… you know. If you break up, or if you get engaged… stuff like that.”

Your face flushed hot. “Tooru—”

“Okay, that’s all!” He hummed. “See you later!”

“Wait, Toor—”

The phone buzzed against your ear, a sure sign that Tooru had taken his leave. You sighed, letting all the tension that’d gathered in your chest dissipate in your breath.

That was… weird.

But not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. Everything was uncertain; maybe Tooru would change his mind. Maybe he’d decide that, actually, he hated the idea of this and he’d disown you if you kept dating Iwaizumi.

But right then, sitting in your tiny university cubicle, you realised something.

It was all in your hands, now. You could choose the way forward.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Hajime!” You called as you rushed through your front door, bag in tow.

“Yeah?” He was standing in the kitchen, clad only in a pair of grey sweatpants as he unpacked the dishwasher.

You didn’t even take the time to marvel at the sight. The only thing on your mind was rushing towards him and throwing your arms around his neck.

“Everything okay?” He chuckled, placing a firm hand on your back.

“Mhm,” you hummed into his neck, revelling in his warmth. He was always so warm; your own man-sized furnace. Did his sheer amount of muscle mass have something to do with that?

“You’re back early,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned, tilting your head back to look at him. “I left my lecture early.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at you.

“It’s fine,” you giggled, “I’ll just watch it later.”

Iwaizumi sighed, tutting under his breath as he leant in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You knew he didn’t have the heart to actually scold you; not when your arms were wrapped around him.

You hummed into the kiss, slipping one of your hands into his hair.

It was nice, being with him like this. There was nothing to worry about anymore; you didn’t need to hide this. You didn’t need to push your feelings to the side and hope you’d just get over them. Finally, finally, it was okay to feel this way. To bare your heart without any shame.

It was one thing to stand up for yourself, to assert your right to do what you wanted.

But knowing that the one thing that’d always been holding you back, that’d taken your feelings hostage for God knew how long…

Everything just felt lighter.

[eringurumi]

Baby Yoda Pattern

Look out friends I know there are so many crochet Baby Yodas out there, and plenty of crochet Baby Yoda patterns, but I’m about to add mine to the mix!  As always, if anyone uses this pattern, please link back to my page, and tag me or send me a picture! I’ll always reblog! Like the rest of you, I’m obsessed with this little sweetie and want to see as many as humanly possible! Or tag me on insta @ erin.gurumi 

EDIT: PDF version here thanks to @romeo-wherefore-art-thou​

EDIT 2: PATTERN FOR MANDO!

From what I can tell, my pattern is one of the smallest designs out there. So, while lacking in detail (I love the tiny hands and facial features people are able to make!), the trade off is, look how SMOL he sits in my hand! Make a dozen of them! Fill a candy dish with them! Put one in the manger of your Nativity scene!

So, the secret to a tiny Yoda is, in part, using tiny yarn. I had this perfect ball of light green yarn in my stash and I have no idea what it is or where I got it (possibly inherited from my grandma?), but you can see it here compared to the Red Heart Super Saver “Buff Fleck” yarn I used for his coat. Also, for his head and ears, I used a 2.5mm crochet hook, while for the body I used a 3mm crochet hook. I think it makes a difference! I’m vaguely curious if this pattern could scale up, maybe with worsted weight for the head and a chunky yarn for the body?

^ Head: 

To make sure his head has a more oval shape, I didn’t do multiple rows of the widest diameter (counter-intuitively, to crochet a sphere, you need multiple rows of the widest diameter, it’s just some property of how the yarn stretches!)  

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches  

(1 sc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

(2 sc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches

(2 sc, dec) 6x to make 18 stitches

Add 6 mm eyes between last two row, stuff

(1 sc, dec) 6x to make 12 stitches

dec until closed off

^ Ears:

 This is a challenging one since you are working with such few stitches. When making a narrow cone like this, I find it helps to stick my hook into the cup and press it out, to make a more sharp point and better expose the stitches I need to work with.

3 sc in a magic circle

inc 1 to make 4 stitches

(sc, inc) 2x to make 6 stitches

2 rows of 6 sc

flatten ears and sew shut

Sew the ears to each side of the head, making sure they stick out mostly horizontally. Having them too high on the head really changes the silhouette and makes him look less Yoda-like! 

^ Coat:

As you can see, I was actually experimenting on his little potato sack at the same time I was working on the head, because I wanted them to have good proportions to each other. I ultimately went with a slightly larger size than you see here. I know in amigurumi often the head is much much bigger than the body, but here I wanted him to still look a bit like he was swimming in his cute little sack.

foundation single crochet 14

connect the ends in a loop

sc 14

sc 13 (decrease once in back)

sc 12 (decrease once in back)

tie off leaving a long end

^ Collar: 

This is such a crazy important piece of his costume! I wanted him to look cozy and snug but not TOO tightly wrapped up. I didn’t get a good picture of the collar pre-attached, but it really is so simple:

chain 14, turn, chain 2

double crochet in second chain, then 13 double crochets across

I would recommend experimenting with the number of stitches though, depending on how tight they are - you want it to be able to wrap around the neck of the coat with a little left over to form the overlap. To attach the collar, I carefully sewed it AROUND THE OUTSIDE of the main body of the cloak, NOT directly to the top of the coat, as then you can’t attach his head! 

Here’s the two coat/collar combos I experimented with, which was possible since I attached the collar before I attached the head. I don’t think that’s strictly necessary, as it does make sewing on the head harder because you have to reach down through the collar (making sure the head attached to the coat, not the collar!). But it is doable! (The smaller body had 12 stitches in diameter at the base of the coat, and the smaller collar and half double crochets - I just think it looked more squished and messy.)

As for stuffing his body - I kinda didn’t! there were enough loose ends of the various yarns that basically tucking them in provided enough structure - he doesn’t have any feet (it would be easy to make some though, if you wanted), but he actually stands up great like this! 

I mean, he stands up great, but don’t think that means he doesn’t also love to be picked up and held! This is a better view of the back of his collar, which comes up so cute and snug around his ears!

That’s it for Baby Yoda! Good luck and please feel free to ask if you have any questions! If you make a little guy, pleeese share a pic with me! I can’t get enough of him! And, if there is some interest in the pattern for Best Space Dad the Mandalorian, I may write that up later! They are so cute with each other!!

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

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The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously. 

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

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Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

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Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?

[thewinchesters-pants]

The Multiverse Queen- Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language, fluff, almost smut?

A/N: Good morning! I’ve had this idea sitting in my drafts for a hot minute now and finally finished enough of it to post the first part. In reference to the title, this is a multiverse story! Each part will be with a different fictional male character and different plots, but they will all interweave with each other. I plan on posting the story on this tumblr but I plan on tagging all of my other tumblr pages so you can check out the rest of my content and my followers on those other pages can hop between them. Likes are valuable but commentary makes my soul happy! As always, feel free to reblog but do not copy and repost my work! :)

“Do you suppose the multiverse theory is possible?” You asked your best friend one night, having stayed up late once again from your ever-present insomnia.

“I don't see why not. There’s a lot of things we don't know about the universe, and even just the planet that we live on.” She replied, tone full of sleep as she answered your video chat with one eye open. 

“Do you think someone will ever find out?” You followed up, propping your phone up on the screen of your laptop as you fell down the rabbit hole of the multiverse theory once again. 

“Honestly, I have no idea. Part of me hopes they never do.” She yawned, propping her own phone up so she could rest her eyes while you continued to chatter on about what you found. 

“I think it would be pretty amazing if they do.” You replied, in awe at all of the research that you are able to find and you save the PDFs to read once you hang up the phone with her.

 “You need sleep, ma’am.” She laughs, face half-covered by her pillow.

“I need answers.” You corrected, bidding her goodnight and hanging up the phone as you began the descent down the rabbit hole of the multiverse theory. 

It was an hour later that you found a video file that had no formal extension or point of origin so you made sure your wifi security was turned on before putting in your earbuds and pressing PLAY. The screen was only wide enough for you to see two men in the frame, and one of them appeared to have tear tracks down his cheeks as he began to speak. 

“Sweetheart? It’s me, Dean. Sammy is here, too. Cas thinks he found a way to get you back here, but we need to know if you're getting this video feed. There should be a phone number in your cell with the name ‘Winchester’ above it. Please, honey, call that number now.” The shorter of the two men spoke, his hand dragging over his face to wipe away the stray tears and it gave him a moment to collect himself as he waited impatiently for the phone to ring. 

You became curious and went to the contacts of your phone, shaking your head in disbelief as you found the unknown contact in your phone with the exact name that the men on screen mentioned. You held your breath as you pressed the call button and put the phone up to your ear and your hands shook as you waited to see who would answer the other end. As you waited for someone to answer, your eyes made their way back to the computer screen and watched as the taller man cursed when he saw the phone ring. 

“Holy shit…” His voice was just as deep as the first man, but it held more shock than hope as he handed the device to the first man who put it up to his ear. 

“Sweetheart?” the man on the screen asked just as the voice on the other end of your phone spoke against your ear. 

“Yes, Dean?” You questioned, not believing this for a moment as you silently cursed your insomnia for this fever dream. 

“Cas is on his way to get you. We’ll see you soon.” You screamed and threw your phone, feet kicking your laptop off of the bed in the process as your mind raced a million miles a minute.

 You were cursing this fever dream as you shut the laptop and tucked it away in your backpack where it belongs for your classes in the morning. 

“Please, stop screaming. Sam and Dean want you to come with me.” Your head whipped around at the noise coming from the foot of your bed and your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar brunette man in the familiar trench coat.

 “Castiel?” You could only manage one word but it was enough to make the disheveled angel smile. 

“Yes, ma’am. Please, we must get going. This universe will only be open for a little while longer.” He held out his hand for you to take and you did, after slinging your backpack onto your shoulders and snatching your cell phone from the bed.

“They’ll be happy to see you.” Cas shot you a small smile as his fingers gripped your hand and whisked you away into the darkness of the night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a minute but the ride that Castiel whisked you away on was enough to have you drop to your knees and vomit in the shrubbery outside the bunker in Kansas. Castiel waited patiently for you to finish before cleaning you up with his magic and offering a hand to get you to your feet. 

“Thank you.” You grumbled, feeling better already as you dusted off the knees of your joggers and tugged your backpack further up on your shoulders once more. 

“You're welcome.” He smiled, leading the way to the doors of the vast bunker and pulling them open by the handle before letting you walk in first.

 You did so, somewhat nervously, and walked to the circular stairwell and began descending it as thunderous footsteps rang out from the halls. You were holding your breath once more as your left foot took one step off of the stairs and you were tugged off of your feet and into the crushing grasp of one Dean Winchester. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I missed you. Baby, please don't ever leave again. No fight was worth this.” Dean was babbling, tears making trails down his cheeks once more as he tucked his face into your neck and squeezed you tighter. 

You were confused but hugged him tight, eyes closing as you basked in the feeling of your favorite television character hugging you like you would be taken from him at any moment. He swept you off of your feet as he squeezed you close, letting Sam talk to Cas for an update while you took a moment with the eldest Winchester.

 "Dean, what fight?" You eventually ask, voice barely above a whisper as you settle back on your feet.

 "You don't remember? Do you know how long you've been gone?" His voice was just as quiet, forehead resting against your own as his hands cupped the sides of your face. 

"I don't." You replied, eyes fluttering closed as you took a deep breath in and memorized the scent that was one hundred percent Dean Winchester. Mint, oil, leather, and what smelled like clean laundry. 

"You've been gone five months, sweetheart. We had a huge fight and you stormed out and that's the last time I saw you. I've not been a good person to be around since then." There was a flush to his cheeks and he didn't look at you when you pulled away to stare at him 

"Five months? Really?" It was your turn to be surprised, mentally going over everything you knew about your life. You had no memory of your life with the brothers. 

"Five months exactly. I haven't slept much since then but that is the one thing that I am sure about."  De replied, still refusing to look at you while his eyes stayed downcast in shame.

 “Well...I'm back now. You're stuck with me.” You smiled small, lips curling up more as Dean finally looked at you and grinned your favorite grin. 

“I can accept that. Come on, sit with me while I make dinner.” He took your hand and led you through the familiar war room and down the main hallway to the vast kitchen of the bunker. Familiar, only because you were used to seeing it every week on your television as you watched Supernatural.

 Once in the kitchen, Dean grabs you by the hips and lifts you to sit on the counter of the bar and hands you a bowl to start mixing ingredients for the apple pie he was making while he worked on forming out the hamburgers to put on the grill. The two of you made conversation about what has been happening over the past five months and you tell him about the life that you've been living in the other universe. Sam and Cas come to join you once they're done going over everything that they've learned about the multiverse and noting it to add to the next book of lore for the shelves. 

“So you don't remember our life at all? You've only seen us on tv?” Sam asked as he made the salad for the dinner while sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Yep, only on tv. I guess in the universe I ended up in, the two of you were television stars on this show Supernatural. The actors- you guys- were named Jensen and Jared. Both had wives and families and everything.” You explained, handing Cas the bowl with the filling for the pie so that he could pour it while Dean put the burgers on the grill and carefully added the top crust of the pie over its pan. 

“That’s so insane. Was my wife hot?” Sam grinned cheekily, laughing as De threw him a scowl and a huff. 

“Very.” You laughed, rolling your eyes as Sam smirked to himself.

 “Shut it, Sammy. It’s freaky knowing there's duplicates of us out there.” Dean snapped, putting the pie into the oven to bake before standing back to his full height and walking to stand between your legs.

 “I think it’s quite interesting. I wasn't for sure that Father actually created multiple universes- Gabriel had mentioned it- but it’s comforting to know now that there was truth to his words.” Cas chimed in, head cocking to the side in contemplation as he listened to his dubbed “angel radio” to check on the chatter that his journey created. 

“So what was I like in this reality? My memory is blurred.” You asked, hands sliding around Dean's frame as you rested your chin on his right shoulder. 

“Amazing. Beautiful. Hell of a shot. Both with a gun and a right hook. Could take down a man twice her size and also make any victim feel like the safest person in the world.” Dean replied in an instance, pressing a kiss to your forearm that was closest to his lips as he turned his head to smile at you.

 “Annoying early in the morning, used all of the hot water, wouldn't share the special ice cream saved in the back of the freezer. Kept the bunker way too cold.” Sam listed teasingly, shooting you a wink so you know that he was joking with you. 

“Says the man who eats the rabbit food and runs at the crack of dawn.” You shot back, laughing when you saw him roll his eyes and huff something about trying to be healthy. 

“You were my best friend, even when I didn't deserve one.” Dean sighed, head resting back against your chest as his eyes closed in remorse.

 “You’ve always deserved a best friend, De.” You sigh too, pressing a kiss to his temple as the four of you become quiet in thought while the food cooks. 

Dinner goes by quickly and you only have one drink before turning in for the night, using the explanation of a chaotic couple hours as your reason to be alone. Sam and Cas bid you goodnight and Dean tells you that he’ll join you once he's done cleaning up. You nod, and give him a kiss before heading towards the far hallway and making your way to the bedroom that Sam had said was yours before you disappeared. You would be lying if you said that it was weird stepping foot into the bedroom you had seen a thousand times and not having any formal memories of it. 

Almost mindlessly, you began making a slow circle around the room as you ran your fingers over every surface while you waited for Dean to show.

 “How are you feeling? With all of this?” He eventually appeared, quietly closing the door behind him and leaning up against it with his arms at his sides. 

“Like I'm drowning but I still have the ability to breathe.” You confessed honestly, turning from your spot at the left side of the bed to stare back at him. 

“It’s a lot to handle, I know. But I'm here to listen to anything rolling around in your head. Or even just hold you while we watch a movie in bed so you don't have to talk. Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He had a small, almost shy smile on his face as he waited for you to make the first move.

 “A movie sounds good.” you smiled back and made your way to stand before him, tentatively sliding your hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. He took it as a good sign and slid his own hands around your hips to pull you the rest of the way into his chest. 

“I missed you, honey.” Dean whispered, resting his forehead against your own.

 “I’m not going anywhere, De.” You replied quietly, pressing a quick but soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away to grab one of his shirts from the middle of his drawer- more knowledge from the show- and made quick work of changing into the comfy clothing and sliding between the warm blankets of his bed. 

“Promise?” He asks, a giant smile on his face as he sees you wearing his shirt and getting comfy in his room.

 “Promise.” You smile back, face half-tucked into the mountain of pillows as you wait for him to finish getting ready for bed and join you under the covers.

 He joins you soon after changing, and flips the lamp light off while grabbing the remote to the tv hanging off of the opposite wall. You curl into his left side and rest your head against the curve of his neck and shoulder, closing your eyes and breathing in the comforting smell of him. He sighs in content and turns his head to press a kiss to your temple before the two of you settle in for the night. You would be lying if you said that you didn't fall asleep within ten minutes of the start of the movie. 

You woke up feeling well-rested but not in the bed that you started out in. One of your hands was rubbing the sleep from your eyes while the other was patting the mattress beside you to wake up Dean, but someone else was holding your hip and rubbing their foot up and down your calf. 

“Wha-?” you started to speak, but the man who appeared in your field of vision was not Dean Winchester. 

“Good morning, my love.” Aaron Hotchner- Unit Chief of the FBI- smiled at you, voice husky with sleep and hair messed up from tossing and turning during the night. 

“Good morning.” You smiled back, accepting the fact that you must have jumped another universe and ended up in the Criminal Minds universe. The first jump threw you for a loop, but the next jump did not phase you as much. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked, hand coming up to rest against your cheek as his thumb rubbed gently against your cheekbone. 

“I slept okay, what about you?” you replied, leaning forward to press a soft yet sweet kiss to his lips. 

“I slept amazingly well. I did, however, wake up with a bit of an issue and I was hoping that my wife would be able to help me with it.” He grinned cheekily, hand gesturing to the tent forming in his boxers.  

 “I’d be happy to help.” 

TAGS:

@ssa-hotchners-wife

@bucks-metal-arm19

@the-avengers-compound19​

@princess-soa​

[ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime]

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 3

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 3: Memory

"Mother."

"What is it, Suzu?"

When I called, my mother turned around and replied.

Eleven years ago. The house was still new. There was no garage yet, and potted flowers were lined up all over the garden. "Do not cut my hair."

I told her that and ran down the slope in front of my house. Mom walked down the stairs opposite her, resting her hand on her waist and waiting. I ran away in the opposite direction, bouncing, saying that I would never let my hair be cut. But I was taken back without a hitch. She was seated on a bench in the garden and dressed in a haircut cape. “I’m going to make you look cute, Suzu.” After cutting my hair, I don't like the tingling of my hair. She shook her legs and sharpened her lips. But when she held the scissors without hesitation, she cut my hair all at once. "Because you’re going to be an elementary school student," I hope the hair on both sides doesn't stick to my shoulders. The bangs were far above the eyebrows. Even when I went to school, my neck was tingling for a while.

I played a lot with my mother. I took a sumo wrestling on the lawn of the riverbed in the evening. I pushed her by force and my mother rolled on the grass. I won, I laughed happily. Mother also laughed. I asked why? Won’t she cry if she loses? Mom shook her head. “I'm glad that the weak Suzu has become stronger.” Dad was laughing while lying on the grass. My mother often made salted seared meat. She lightly sprinkles salt and roasts the bonito stabbed on a gold skewer from her lenticel over an open flame on the stove. I was staring from the top of the chair. Since the fat drips, the microwave oven will not get dirty if you bake it while sucking it with cooking paper. When it gets burnt, dip it in ice water to cool it, and then drain it. It was a style. So as a kid, I had a hard time holding a thick piece of salted meat with chopsticks, and I had a hard time putting it in my mouth. Mom was waiting for dad's return, holding a mug and watching my struggle.

My dad was a salaryman at that time, and he wore a tie and went out to the city every day. Perhaps because of that, we had some money in our house in the old days. Mother bought a state-of-the-art smartphone at the time. I decided to try out the performance of the on-board camera, and on dad's lap, I pointed my smartphone at my mom. I asked dad to help put mom in the frame and pressed the shutter. She is dressed in white.

The smiling mother, she was beautiful. The photo of her was printed on paper and is still at the house. I was a cheerful child running around, unlike now. I definitely liked playing outside rather than inside the house. If there were trees, I climbed, if there were leaves, I tore them, and if there were insects, I chased them. But it didn't burn in the sun. I must have been such a constitution. Instead, my face is freckled.

I was often injured. My knee was also full of scratches. In the woods, on the riverbed, on the slope in front of my house, I often stumbled and fell. My mother ran up in a hurry and she hugged me tightly, crying in pain. Mysteriously, it hurts somewhere. That's when I was happy. I don't know how many times I fell because I ran around vigorously and wanted mother to hug me. Every time mother rushed in as if it was a big deal for her daughter and worried. Every day was like summer vacation. I clung to mother doing the laundry and cleaning and played. After lunch, she opened the tatami mat, laid a summer futon on the tatami mats, and we took a nap together. The smoke of the mosquito coil was rising slowly. When I woke up, most of the time, I couldn't see my mother sleeping next to me, and she was busy doing housework. In retrospect, she never been told me that she is busy. She was always with me when I asked for it. Since my house was in the mountains, I rarely went out to eat somewhere, and instead my mother cooked any kind of food. One day she saw it in a picture book, and she said she wanted to eat yakitori. She had never eaten it before. My mother made yakitori by sticking chicken on skewers one by one. For the first time in my life, I saw yakitori with the naked eye. I didn't know how to eat it, so I couldn't do well by chewing the meat and removing it from the skewers. Dad and mom were staring at me. Never missing what her daughter experiences for the first time in her life. The place where we, who live in the mountains, go out to play is not an amusement park or a shopping mall, but a campsite further in the mountains from our house.

On a sunny summer day, my mom and I wore a wide-brimmed hat and crossed the subsidence bridge. Dad was carrying a lot of camping equipment. The water crystal pool in the depths of the Yasui Valley was a breathtaking blue color even for us living in the area. The water is so transparent that you can clearly see your shadow on the bottom of the river. I feel a little scared as if I were floating in the air. My mother was an advanced swimmer. She boasted that her mother, who was once a local kid, swam like a kappa every day in the summer. She knew all about the fun of the river. At the same time, she never let her swim in dangerous places on dangerous days. Mom wraps around me, floating. She dived into the water to show her off her skills. Still picked up by her, I became anxious and called out. “Mom, don't go.” But mom, she swam in the blue water, as if she couldn't hear me.

One evening, I was playing with my mother's smartphone and saw a strange app. I put it on. When you launch the app, you'll see white and black horizontal stripes lined up. I pointed to what this was and asked my dad who was next to me. Dad looked it and twisted his neck, calling mother, who was preparing dinner. After dinner, mother's hand fixed the smartphone I was holding vertically. I laid it down and found it to be a piano keyboard. As prompted, I pressed one of the keys. There was a "do" sound. I looked at my mother's face. My mother also saw my face, saying that she had come out. It's mom’s music production app. Only then did I look around my mother's room and notice. Old records, cassette tapes, and CDs are lined up on the shelves to the end. And if you set them on a record player or cassette deck and pass them through an amplifier, music will be played from the left and right speakers. The collection was a brilliant one that accurately captured the main points of the history of classical, jazz and rock. I didn’t know at the time, the value and meaning of such a lineup being packed in a room at the end of the world.

In that room, I pressed the keys of the app one after another and recorded. When played, each sound sounds in the order in which they are arranged. Even if you enter an insane scale, it will play back in a lawful manner. I was so happy that I bounced on my chair. My mother was laughing too. Warm incandescent light was illuminating us. After that, I was crazy about this app. I had my mother lend me a smartphone and I was playing around with it day, night and morning. The operation was intuitive and easy to use. There were words that I couldn’t read because it wasn’t a children's app. And there were many functions I didn't understand. But I was absorbed in that kind of thing. I was completely absorbed in the exciting new experience of writing songs. I composed a number of songs and previewed them in front of my mother. The mother who finished listening gave me advice in short words each time. If you do xxx, it will be better, or the trick is to do xxx. She sometimes took out some of the records in the collection and listened to them for reference. My mother is neither a musician nor a composer.

I think each piece of advice is accurate even if I look back on it now. Over and over again, she listened to my melody, and she said she noticed something, and she sang herself to make sure it was. When I asked, she said it wasn't bad. She said she was smirking at me as she said. I put the sound in a place that I wouldn't normally put it. I'm sure this song was a failure, and all the work I've done so far will be ruined. But as it gradually takes shape, it seems strangely cohesive, she said. I felt as happy as I wanted to. I'm sure it's my parents' favor, but even if my mother added, I was happy. For me, I'm not making it with the intention of letting someone else listen to it. It would have been nice if only my mother could listen to it. My mother sings along with the song I typed in. Take the tempo with her right hand and sing gently. The voice of mother, who was also a member of the chorus made by her friends, echoed and was transparent.

She listened to my weird songs many times. I was happy and sang along with it. Anyway, it’s a song that is as nice as my mother.

I couldn't. Happy memories of me and mother suddenly end here. And that August has come. After this, all I have is a painful, painful memory. The voice of a little girl crying and crying echoed in the riverbank. A girl was left alone on a sandbar. Is she 4 or 5 years old? She looked smaller than I was. It was so sunny just a while ago, but I noticed it wasn't a blue sky, and it was covered with overcast clouds. The beautiful and calm river was cloudy, flooded, driftwood-filled, and surprisingly fast. I can imagine that it is raining heavily upstream. Before this happened, there were people happily making noise on the opposite bank when the flow was still transparent. They are now staring at the girl on this shore. She wore colorful outdoor clothing that made it easy to see that she probably came from the city, not a local. The girls' clothes were also bright colors that I had never seen. Why did people from the city overlook the girls' flashy colored clothes? Why did she forget her existence and she came back to this shore? What to do with friends, their families, and those who enjoyed fishing and canoeing on the riverbanks.

It seemed that she couldn't do anything, and she had no choice but to stand and look like a stick. It's no wonder you're standing. The violent flow of the river separated the girl from the people. Everyone realized that it couldn't be helped. One of the adults was talking to someone on his cell phone. However, everyone can see that where the girl is, is gradually narrowing. Everyone is aware that it is very unlikely that the rescue team will arrive in time. Therefore, I have no choice but to stand up without being able to do anything. Is it just listening to the girl's crying as it is? At that time, someone picked up the red life jacket beside the canoe.

I went forward while staring at the girl. She was a mother. Mommy, and I hurriedly clung to the hem of her mother's clothes. She realized that what her mother was trying to do was too dangerous. She wouldn't have been anxious. She screamed and pulled hard, trying not to let her go. Mom crouched down and squeezed my hand, and she told me something. At that time I can't remember what mother said. Maybe I was screaming and not ready to hear the words. Mom stood up to shake off my chasing and ran, locking the buckle on her life jacket. I fell down on a stone in the riverbank trying to chase her. Still, I got up and shouted at mother's back. Don't go. I think mom didn’t hear my words. While checking the girl's whereabouts, I went around the river, went into the water, and got in the stream to help. It started to rain.

How long has it passed since then? Suddenly the surroundings became noisy. The girl was rescued from the river. Adults are pulling the soaked and tired girl out of the river. I was staring at while getting wet in the rain. People running up. A mixture of joyful voices and crying voices. Are you okay? Open your eyes. I'm glad I was saved ... The girl was wearing the same red life jacket that her mother wore. At that moment, I understood at once what was happening. Mom isn’t here.

"Mother ..... Mother .....!"

I looked left and right, searching for her.

Not anywhere.

"Mother ...!"

In the distance, I heard an ambulance siren. The girl was wrapped in a blanket.

Carried by many adults, she leaves the riverbank. Everyone is crazy about it and realizes that my mom isn't there.

She isn't.

"Mom!" Only I raised my voice and kept calling. Many times. Many times. Many times. I don't remember much after that. When I heard that my mother was found all the way down the river, it seemed like a lie. It wasn't long before I realized that the mug that mother was using was missing. Dad put a picture of mother, which he took someday, in a picture frame and put it in a corner of the kitchen. He had to add flowers every day next to it. Neighbors bothered to talk to me every time I met them on the road, listened to me in a friendly way, and encouraged me with tears. Meanwhile, the Internet was flooded with anonymous posts about the accident.

"It's a suicide act to jump into a river flooded by rain"

"It seems that she was confident in swimming, but it's different from the pool."

《It is irresponsible for my child to help someone else's child and die》

《If there is an accident, playing in the river will be a nuisance and annoying》

《Because helping people is a good person, this is what happens》

The person who wrote it probably didn't know anything about the actual situation, and the day after he wrote it, he probably forgot what he wrote. However, the person who wrote it keeps sticking in my chest forever. Immediately after the accident, an acquaintance told me with resentment that it was terrible when I saw this. In front of these words, I was too young to understand all the meanings. However, as I grew up and became able to understand the meaning of the words accurately, I continued to suffer from the unconscious malice contained in them. Losing mother.

How should I pass on these writings as a bereaved family, even though I still can't accept them, as if the mother who helped me was all bad?

Aside from me, my mother just smiled in the picture frame in the kitchen. From that accident, I think something has changed decisively from what I used to be. One evening, in mother's room, where dust began to build up, I stood on her chair, hoping to return to her happy memories. And I sang the song I sang with mother. But when I started singing, I realized I couldn't sing at all. My voice became stuck in the back of my throat and couldn't get out of my mouth. I was confused. Something in my heart was suppressing me from singing. Why can't I sing? Tears came out.

Hey mom. Why can't I sing?

It was clear that the reason why singing was so fun and necessary was because my mother listened to it.

However, just because you can't sing... You don't have to worry about anything. Even if you can't sing, no one will blame you. Life just goes on. I went to a local junior high school. The jumper skirt uniform was stuffy. Many of the elementary school classmates went to the town as they went on to school, and there were not half of the students remaining in the local area, so even in junior high school, it became a compound class. Therefore, the chorus practice was accompanied by the vice-principal teacher, and it was decided to sing in all grades. There were three people in all grades. Because there were only three people, I quickly realized that I was just lip-synching without singing. I was asked why I didn't sing, but I didn't say anything. I thought they would get angry, but they didn't get angry. It means that only I can visit from the next practice.

I sat alone in a corner of the music class and watched everyone practice. I may have looked like a lethargic girl who was just silent. But inside that, there are things that can't be translated into words.

I think it was swirling. When I left school and returned home, I irresistibly entered mother's room in the twilight. The twilight light was shining through the window. Cardboard boxes containing tableware and seasonal home appliances that are no longer in use are piled up on the table. It was completely turned into a storeroom. It's been many years since then. It has passed. I listened to the large number of records there, one by one from the edge of the shelf. Days, days, days. By listening earnestly, I managed to calm my rough feelings. But one day, there was a moment when I thought I couldn't bear it anymore. Upon returning, I entered my mother's room, sat down in front of the keyboard, quickly opened the report sheet, and began to write fiercely with a pen to spit out the incomprehensible feelings in my chest. I was almost suffocating if I didn't spit it out. I turned over the paper and continued to write forever. -Why did mother leave me in the river? Why did she choose to help the child who she didn't even know her name rather than live with me? Why am I alone? Why, why, why – I added paper, supplemented with post-it notes, and wrote long, long lyrics. The scale that springs up is notated long and long. Those that were neither were spit out as pictures. It was a swirl of many kinds. It was like a whirlpool floating on the surface, like a black hole that swallowed everything, and like a hole in the top of my head. The floor of the room was filled with pieces of paper with a mixture of lyrics, pictures and sheet music. But suddenly..... I returned to myself and stopped writing. Right now, I've noticed the worthlessness, meaninglessness, ugliness, and helplessness of the words, pictures, and scales I wrote.

What are you doing? I broke the paper. Everything I've written so far.

I threw it in the trash can without hesitation. The bundle of paper looked like a vomit that I had just spit out. Then I became a high school student.

I finally found myself worthless. The uniform tie was stuffy. I crossed the subsidence bridge while looking down and went to school. I took an exam and passed the exam at a junior and senior high school in the center of the city, and transferred from high school. There, I met my childhood friend Shinobu-kun again.

"Shizu.."

"Shinobu-kun ..."

Now that I was in high school, Shinobu-kun looked tall and shining, all different. On the other hand, I didn't seem to have grown at all since then, and I was irresistibly embarrassed and couldn't even talk. What have I been doing so far? I started a new life going to the city from the mountains, but I couldn't get into studying. Even though I had a hard time taking the exam, I just looked out the window during class. Knowing that this shouldn't be the case. Club activities didn't go anywhere. There were very few such students. On the way home, you can see the students devoting themselves to club activities. The track and field club is jumping the training hurdle in a line in the courtyard. The volleyball club is running on the ground. A percussionist in the brass band with a metronome in his ear is striking a stick in the hallway. The Naginata club sits upright in the martial arts hall with a good posture, and thank you for your cooperation, saying before the practice. The first-year students of the baseball club, who have not yet been numbered, stand side by side and watch as if they are digging into the practice of their seniors. I didn't belong anywhere, so I left school quickly. It was already winter. There is a river called Kagami River that flows from east to west in the center of the city. Since the flow is often gentle, the TV tower and buildings on the opposite bank are reflected like a mirror. When I returned to the station through the road beside it, the girls of the light music club carrying the "Chahahaha" musical instrument case overtook me with a light step while laughing. A cute cat-shaped stuffed animal attached to the school bag is shaking. Attached to my school bag was a cheesy plastic plate of "Gutto Koremaru". "Gutto Koremaru" is an egg-shaped character who can poke his hand against the wall and endure the pain. I have a crack in my head, probably because I endured it too much. Of course, it's not cute.

In a dark and narrow corridor.

I resisted, "I can't do it! Hey!", But I was pulled into the room, saying "OK." The soundproof door slammed behind me. Shinboku "Ah!" There was a flashy room in a karaoke box, and the pink and purple lights were spinning mysteriously. It smells of incense. Only for girls in the class.

I heard that it was a social gathering, but when I saw the frenzy of the girls standing on the sofa and shaking their heads, I thought that I could not get into this tension very much.

"Peggie Sue is cute"

"This is the one that is popular in" U ", isn't it?" On the monitor screen on the wall, the popular Az of "U", Peggy Sue, was seen singing in a black rubber dress. Purple lipstick that shakes silver hair. An eccentric beauty with red eyes. Peggy Sue? "U"? Az? Is it popular? I don't know anything. It's like an event in a different world from me. Then, Hitomi suddenly offered a microphone, "Yes." Sing, and so on. "Huh?" Puzzled. Neither the coat nor the muffler is taken off. But "yes" the microphone was pointed again. Why for a child like me who is at the end of a class?

"Sing together?"

"Hey, sing."

The shadows of the girls press the microphones. What do you mean?

"Are you not going to sing alone?"

"Isn't it a lie that you can't sing?"

I see, so it’s this situation.

Dozens of microphones are forced against my face one after another. "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

"Sing"

"Hey, sing?"

"Sing"

Those voices sound like a threat.

"You're telling me to sing."

"Sing!"

"Sing!"

Ahh!

Immediately, the microphone popped off and fell to the floor.

The girls dancing on the sofa suddenly saw me. It's calming down as if I was taken aback.

"What happened? Suzu-chan"

The mic and the shadows of the girls disappeared like a phantom.

"No, nothing. I'm sorry. Hey ..."

Without saying anything, I pushed the door of the karaoke box open by force and went out like crawling. Someone might have heard and told everyone that I couldn't sing.

When I got off the bus, powder snow was flying. I almost slipped down the slope from the bus stop. Even in Kochi, it usually snows in the mountains, aside from the city. When I crossed the subsidence bridge, I heard a crackling sound of thin ice. The surface of the concrete bridge is frozen.

Cold. It's not dexterous enough to get used to everyone, and it's not divisible. On the other hand, I’m not strong enough to be alone, not prepared, and have no idea.

I don't do anything selfish. Rumors that you can't sing, that's a lie. I'm just not confident in myself for a while. I want to get along with everyone. Really. I know. Of course I know. So "Ah ... Ah ..."

In the middle of the bridge, I impulsively exhaled my voice.

"Ah ... ah ... ah ah"

As I breathed in, cold air sank into my throat. Still, I sang towards the river. "Ah..”

Did I sing? It didn't match a song. It's just a growl. The bag slipped off my shoulder. Will you forgive me if I sing? Can I get along with everyone if I sing? It doesn't help to sing alone in such a place. It's like a scream of a dead end before being crushed. Still, I sang that song with my mother with a squeezed voice. I was happy back then. It's different now. Powder snow was swirling in the flow of the river. Suddenly, in front of me it became pitch black. Nausea swelled from the back of my stomach, and I held my mouth with both hands.

"Uuuuu!"

I crouched on my knees. However, I couldn't stand the momentum of the backflowing gastric juice. I pushed my body forward and vomited towards the clear stream under the bridge. The vomit that was about to kneel and vomit fell to the surface of the water, creating a number of ripples. I spit out everything in my stomach and fell on the bridge. My hair is messed up and my mouth is smeared with gastric juice and smells. It's already spicy. I want to get rid of everything. Shivering and crying as if groaning. Drops of tears ooze on my cold cheeks and tingle. I wish I were gone.

I could hear the slight sound of powder snow folding and piled up right next to me. A notification came to the smartphone that slipped off my bag. It was a message from Hiro-chan.

<< Look at this, Suzu. It’s so amazing that I’m seriously laughing. >>

There is a link to somewhere.

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.