#but maybe i should cut back on this kind at least which will be easy if my anxiety is chillin rn

[avocadoguru]

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 11 / alternatively, read on wattpad

Chapter 12 (word count: 9k) -updated September 6

“So… did you figure it out, yet?”

Harry didn’t even have time to find it funny, “Why wouldn’t you have said anything to me? This is… What do I do? Does she know? She wouldn’t know yet, would she? I don’t think she knows… Niall, I don’t know how to handle something like this!”

Harry’s emotions were high. And for good reason. What he’d just seen had him shaken. And it also meant that she’d been turned against her will by a psychopath. He was glad he’d murdered James but this would always be a reminder of what had happened and who had done it.

He had been curious about a few little things. The first was obviously the speed at which she’d recovered and then there was her sudden spunk. Her heightened sense of smell was peculiar when she picked out that he was to be making eggs benedict, which should have tipped him off right away. How had she guessed? The sauce wasn’t something that most humans could pick out from a small leak in a jar in a bag full of other more fragrant groceries. 

“What happened that made you realize?”

“I saw her eyes turn golden. Just wish you’d said something.”

Niall had a hunch about her sudden natural reparative abilities, but he couldn’t be 100% sure at the time.“Harry, you have to understand, man. I didn’t say anything because it was either I was wrong or I was right and you’d figure it out anyway. It was better not to say anything if by chance she was just recovering in a way that doesn’t normally happen in humans. Sometimes things do happen that don’t make sense medically. I figured it was better to just wait and see.”

Harry paced, all the way to the furthermost corner of his expansive garden, outside of Y/N’s earshot. His towel tied tight around his waist as he ran his hands through his damp hair, “You could have at least given me a heads up. What do I do?”

Niall breathed out a laugh, “How should I know? I’m a medical doctor! I’m not cut out for emotional therapy. I’ve never dealt with anything like this. But you’ll figure it out.”

“I know. I just… how do I tell her?”

“Harry, again, I don’t know. We’re talking about a human that has been turned and I’m not familiar with all of this. It’s very unconventional. This kind of thing only happens in extremely rare cases and never in my life have I met a human that’s been turned. I’ve heard about it, just never known someone that it happened to. How has she been acting? What caused her eyes to change?”

Harry cleared his throat and looked up at his house, remembering to keep his voice down, “She’s been… very ready to do stuff. Awake. Wants to go for a swim. Is hungry. Um… a little bit bossy with me even.”

Niall hummed into the receiver, “Bossy… and what happened to have her eyes change?”

Harry could almost hear the cheek in his voice, “She was… I think maybe just excited. She’s been in a really good mood since I came back with groceries a bit ago.”

“Right… a good mood. Well, it’s doctor’s orders to take it easy on her. She might be… well… able to tolerate more, but… she’s still recovering. And so are you.”

A scoff fell from Harry’s lips, “Fine. No advice for me then?”

“Sorry, man. Never dealt with anything like this before. As you know, it’s exceptional that anyone would survive being bitten and getting turned. I just think that’s remarkable… The way you’ve been adamant she’s your mate, all this time. She really is your mate. Only your true mate could’ve survived turning for you.”

*

Y/N was onto Harry. She knew that he wasn’t running out to his car just to get something. Sure he ran out the front door but the way he reacted to her standing so close to him was a little out of character. Perhaps, she decided, that he was trying to “behave” and not push her into anything intimate. That made sense. She was still recovering from what she was told were deadly injuries. But that in itself was a mystery to her. She felt fine for the most part. 

She’d unpacked the groceries and left out the ingredients to make the eggs benedict when Harry was in the shower. But getting interrupted by the way he had groaned and then, the thing that had started to become a big question at the front of her mind, was his scent. It was his natural musk but she could smell him from all the way downstairs in the kitchen while he was in the shower. It was his groan, however, that had her feet carrying her upstairs to check on him. Just to see. 

She didn’t know why he’d suddenly become so timid with her. Why he was shying away from her. It was subtle but she noticed it. 

When he came back inside, dawning only the towel he tucked around his waist he slowed his movements as he saw her standing there with a knowing look on her face.

“What happened?”

Harry tilted his chin up to feign more confidence than he was feeling in her presence suddenly. It was as if he was looking at her with new eyes. She was like him now and her senses would pick apart the subtlest changes, “I thought I’d left the butter in the car. Wouldn’t have wanted it to melt.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him as he walked past her into the kitchen, “But you didn’t go to your car.”

Harry clenched his jaw and stopped in his tracks. It was going to be difficult to pretend he didn’t know what was going on but he wanted to wait a little longer before telling her in hopes of her figuring it out herself. Or, in any case, he needed to figure out a way to ease her into this. He didn’t want her to freak out, or be by herself when she did figure it out. But he needed time to process it himself; all he knew was that he couldn’t just blurt it out to her out of nowhere. 

He hated to have to go right back to keeping secrets from her again, especially such a huge one, and especially something that affected her directly. By some miracle he didn’t lose her, she was still there with him by choice, he just couldn’t handle losing her for good if she took to the news badly. Which she had every right to… just as much as she’d had every right to be as upset with him as she’d been just a little while back. He thought back then that he’d lost her for good. And now he had to prepare himself for the possibility of having his heart broken all over again.

The way he handled this was crucial. A wrong move and he could fuck it all up forever. He needed to tread carefully.

He looked at her with squinted eyes, “How do you know I didn’t check the car?”

Y/N paused. She had been feeling like her senses were somehow heightened. Her hearing, her sense of smell… She pondered his question as he continued walking into the kitchen. Looking at his broad shoulders and his back had her wishing he hadn’t run off when he did. 

“It’s kind of weird, you know… I’ve been, like, experiencing these weird things. I can hear so clearly and my sense of smell is…” she thought back to the panties she found but decided to keep that bit of information until the time was right, for later, “and I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s all in my head? I feel like maybe I should call Niall…”

Harry watched her carefully as she mulled over everything and he pulled out two eggs from the carton before she continued, “So when I couldn’t hear the car door, I guess I just assumed…” She scoffed, hearing herself out loud. She sounded like a nutcase. Of course she wouldn’t be able to hear the car door all the way from upstairs. “Sorry. I’m being weird. But… right now I’m actually starving so if that butter made it alive let’s eat.”

Harry had Y/N heat the hollandaise while he prepared the rest of the ingredients. But she was clearly still mulling over their interaction upstairs. He noticed her eyes dragging down his bare chest and stopping at his crotch repeatedly. And he could tell she was not only hungry for food but she also had a bit of an appetite for something carnal as well. 

He cleared his throat when he turned to find her leaning on the island and watching him, “Gonna burn the sauce.”

Her grin was playful and Harry felt his blood heat up as she spoke, “Turned it off already. The lid will keep it warm.” She didn’t remove her gaze from him. She was making it very clear what she wanted and he wondered if she was aware of what she was doing or not. 

As much as he’d have loved to have bent her over the kitchen island and take care of his girl the way she needed he couldn’t allow that. Not until they at least had a real conversation. About what she’d seen. About how she was feeling. 

When she began to walk toward him she realized it was like something was just drawing her to him. She wanted to… what did she want? Breakfast was nearly ready and she was very hungry, and yeah, she wanted to eat but what she really wanted was to bite him. Just to nip his shoulder or his neck. His pecs. She didn’t know why her urge was so strong but the moment she was close enough to touch him Harry stood up straight and he looked away from her sultry gaze, “Uh, I’m just gonna go and get dressed and then we’ll eat.”

Breakfast was tasty. It was nourishing and filled her belly, mostly. She felt like she could eat more but Harry’s scent and his hands and his lips were distracting. And the way he kept keeping her at arm’s length had her feeling even more insatiable for him. She knew he was doing it because he was worried about hurting her but she was going to explode if he didn’t do something. 

Turning to face his pretty girl he nearly gave in right then and there, seeing the ravenous look in her eyes. He could practically read her mind, that’s how loud she was thinking those dirty thoughts. And he wanted to give in, he wanted to kiss her, hold her, feel her body against his. Taste her… He shook his head as he got off the stool and pulled himself away reluctantly, grabbing their dirty dishes.“Let’s go for a swim. Like you wanted. I think I know a great place. Secluded. Not in the preserve.” Harry rinsed the dishes as he spoke. He could feel her eyes burning into his back but he needed to keep moving, keep his thoughts from wandering too far. Distract her if he could. He felt he could use a swim himself. Get out some of his pent-up emotions and energy.

“That sounds great, actually,” she grinned and lifted herself up to sit on the counter next to where he was washing the dishes, “I feel like I need to move and exert some energy. A little exercise would be good I think. A swim.”

*

The drive to the new spot wasn’t as quick as it would have been if they’d driven to the preserve and parked and hiked up to their special hidden oasis. But they both knew they couldn’t go back there. Maybe ever. Y/N stopped herself from initiating conversation the whole drive there, and she could tell Harry was holding back, too. She just wasn’t quite ready to address all of that; she at least wanted to go for this swim first. That would hopefully make her feel a bit better. She felt absolutely fine apart from the fact she felt she didn’t fit into her own skin. She was aching to move, burn some energy off, and she suspected it was due to the fact that she was sexually frustrated.

Y/N decided to google her symptoms to pass the time quicker on their drive to this new, secluded place Harry had suggested. She was not quite understanding the way she was able to smell everything so clearly. She typed in sudden heightened sense of smell into the search bar. Scrolling through the various results and webmd articles she landed on something that might explain the strange phenomenon. 

Synesthesia could be the answer. It wasn’t uncommon for people that had gone through life-threatening injuries. She wasn’t 100% sure that was what was causing her to smell and hear things she would have never been able to before but at least it was some kind of answer. Something to ask Niall about when she did finally talk to him about all this.

Harry parked his car off the road and tucked away behind large pines and in the grass. It was miles from the preserve and in an area where the mountains were not protected or worked by the rangers. Some of it was privately owned land that hadn’t been touched in decades. 

“The swimming cove is a spot I used to come to when I had time to waste and wanted to venture away from the preserve.” Harry spoke as he grabbed her bag from her, putting it over his shoulder and began walking toward the fence that clearly meant the area was off limits. 

The overgrowth of vines and grass indicated that no one had been in these parts in a very long time. Which put Y/N at ease. She followed him, scaling the fence easily and trekking through the acreage close behind.

The upward hike was off trail and cumbersome but once they began making their way down into the valley from where they’d hiked Y/N saw the ridges of the mountain and a level area below with a ravine.

“Your sense of direction is astonishing,” she commented as they carefully trekked down toward where they could hear the water flowing, “But I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it? You’re a…” she stopped just before she could say the word. She still had to get used to that idea. That he was a werewolf. Part human, part beast. 

Harry turned to look at her, stopping his pace suddenly as he raised his brows at her, “A werewolf? Is that what you were going to say?”

Nodding her head she shrugged, “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be called that. Or… I don’t know. Is it okay to say it?”

The gentle smile that took over his features told her it was, though he didn’t respond to her question with words. 

Looking down to the sandy portion of the ravine Harry pointed, “Just there. It’s beautiful once you see it from the ground. Come on.”

Y/N was wearing her hiking boots while Harry was in his signature chelsea boots, making the descent to the cove look like child’s play. She was now hyper aware of why he was so good at hiking and trekking and staying steady even in such posh shoes. Everything that had suddenly come to light about what he really was had answered so many questions for her. 

But the moment they were standing in the wet sand before the cove where the ravine led, all her thoughts about what Harry was had vanished. Another breathtaking spot with not a single human soul to be seen.

Harry placed their bags on the rocks to keep them dry and began to take his boots off as he watched Y/N curiously. He had been careful not to allow her to over exert herself but she was easily keeping up with him and she seemed fine. She was fine. Her heartbeat was steady and strong, her body had barely broken out in a sweat and she had a wide smile on her face as she looked around.

“Harry, this is… it’s perfect!” She was eager to move her limbs in the cool water. Feel the weightlessness take over and play around with Harry.

She looked over at him as he was undressing, taking his clothes off, his boots already on the rocks next to the bags. So she followed suit. Taking her own boots off and peeling her pants down her legs. 

Harry was already jumping into the water by the time Y/N had stuffed her shirt onto the pile of clothes. Looking down over her body she did see the awful scar. The wound was healed but the remnants of what had happened was obvious. She hesitated to remove her bra as she brushed a hand over the raised skin.

“Everything okay?” Harry called to her. She looked out toward him, handsome with wet hair as he came in closer to her. 

“Yeah. Just… saw this and…” she ran her fingers from the top of her clavicle downward over the scar to under her breast, “I guess I feel lucky to even be alive. Here with you.”

She kept her eyes on his as she unhooked the back of her bra and removed it. 

Harry watched her as she bent down and took her panties off. He was already hard just seeing her bare body but the scar across her chest kept him in check. She was still recovering. Still figuring out what was going on. 

The somber moment was suddenly over the minute she jumped into the water next to Harry and began to laugh. The water was frigid but it felt fantastic. Normally she would feel discomfort but right now her body was adjusting to it just fine, feeling invigorated and alive.

Stretching her limbs in the water she ducked her head under to swim closer to Harry and grasped his wrist.

Harry pulled her up and she tugged his arm around herself. Both grinning ear to ear with the closeness. He was just glad she was feeling playful. That she wasn’t upset or hurt by what had happened. At least in that moment she wasn’t. He knew she’d have lots of questions for him. Knew they needed to have a conversation but for now the light hearted moment was the only thing he could focus on. And her warm skin against his.

She was more than just playful though. She was horny and Harry knew it. Having her naked in the cool water of a private cove in the mountains was risky. Because he was turned on too. And he knew he was asking for trouble with this scenario. It evoked memories of their time together at the oasis in the preserve.

He could resist her for only so long. She was laying it on thick in his house during breakfast and now with his clothes off and his obvious erection it would be even harder to resist her. 

Harry pulled his arm away and began to swim backwards, gliding through the water smoothly, putting some distance between himself and the girl. 

“Where are you going?” She laughed and began to swim toward him slowly.

Harry shook his head and feigned innocence, “What do you mean? Just swimming is all,” he bit the inside of his cheek to tamper the playful grin on his face.

Instead of continuing after him she decided she’d lure him to her. She ducked under the water again, kicking her feet out and splashing as she maneuvered under the water before surfacing, bouncing out just enough that her breasts were visible to him. 

She watched him closely as she pushed herself back and stretched her arms to float at the surface. The tranquility of having her ears tucked under the water, muffling all the sounds that surrounded them, and floating in the mountain chilled water on her back was just like being back at her oasis. She smiled to herself and peeked an eye at Harry. To her delight, he was already watching her closely.

His eyes were clearly taking in her soft breasts with tightened nipples perking above the water. She wouldn’t tease him too much but she wanted his hands on her. Wanted his attention. Wanted him to give in to her. She knew what he was doing. Knew he was trying to keep his distance because she needed to heal. But that just made her want him more. His gentlemanly and thoughtful attempts to keep her healthy and the way he was doing it because he cared for her. Denying himself something she knew he wanted as a way of protecting her. 

Harry decided to peel his eyes from her body and float on his back too. He needed to straighten out his thoughts and get his mind out of the gutter. He closed his eyes and tried to train his dirty thoughts away. He knew his body was calling him to take care of his natural urges with his mate. And now that she was like him… she was very likely made exactly for him in every way. 

But he couldn’t just act on his desires. He didn’t want to hurt her and he was sure if they did have sex she’d display even more evidence of being like him and that could scare her. If she somehow dropped her fangs in the middle of her orgasm or her claws came out while he was pounding into her – yeah, his thoughts weren’t helping. All of that sounded absolutely delightful and he’d love to feel her fangs puncture into his skin, or have her claw up his back and chest. 

“Harry,” he heard her voice speak his name and he popped his eyes open, dropping the lower half of his body back into the water and letting his toes scrape along the rocky sand.

She saw the way his erection was bobbing just above the water every time his chest inhaled and he floated upward the tiniest bit. And then his eyes on hers were dark. She could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest, not unlike her own wildly pumping heart.

Something in her decided to cut the shit. She was feeling bold. Feeling like he wanted exactly what she wanted and as nice as it was to be cared for and protected by him she wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to hold her in his arms and to give himself to her once and for all. 

“Stop this,” she spoke matter-of-factly as she swam around his body. “I can see clearly how affected you are by me.” 

Touching his shoulder she moved her finger down over his tattoos and to his pecs, thumbing at his nipple and watching his eyes, “I’m okay. Really. You don’t have to keep holding off and denying yourself, Harry.” She moved herself in front of him and draped her arms over his shoulders.

Without another thought, Harry’s hands moved down to her waist as he pulled her in closer to him, “I want you healthy is all. And I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Nodding her head she agreed. That was true. They needed to talk. But something inside of her needed something physical. She needed it to uncloud her brain and give her some kind of clarity. She couldn’t explain it, she just knew she needed it. More than a talk. As important as that was, she was sure she wouldn’t ever be able to focus on anything he told her if he didn’t fuck her first.

“Yes. We will talk. But I don’t know how to explain the way I feel in this moment, how much I need you.” She bit her lip and pushed her hips to his, his cock firm on her thigh, “It’s kind of painful actually.”

Harry could feel her warm against his prick as he looked down to see her breasts grazing against his chest. Painful? Yes, perhaps she was feeling that natural physical urge to release just like he was. That’s how it was for his kind, though he was used to it. Used to the pain of holding off and not allowing himself to indulge right away. She was not used to the way it felt. The ache that wasn’t just from being horny. It was something deep and raw. A biological and natural instinct his kind, their kind possessed. 

He knew the pain well. Knew it could be pushed down and she’d be okay. But she was new to all this. And even with the water around them he could smell how intensely she needed him. Needed him to soothe her. And he was the only one that could provide that for her too. He knew that even if she masturbated she wouldn’t be fully comforted. It would pacify her for a bit. Maybe an hour but she wouldn’t be fulfilled. She wasn’t going to feel better until he took care of her. But he needed to be careful. 

“I think you need to recover first, kitten.” Harry let the little nickname he’d given her so long ago slip out. Or maybe he’d done it on purpose. There was something about her that was feeding into his own urges. She was drawing them out of him with just her eyes. The change in her was so deep and it tangled with his own impulses and senses that he could barely think straight. He was more drawn to her than he’d ever been and he knew it was because of the change. Because she was like him now. His perfect match. 

“Harry,” she spoke softly as she kept her eyes on his, a hand moving over his warm chest, “I trust you. I know you would never hurt me and I can tell you need it too. You need me just as much.”

She could just sense his need. And it wasn’t just the fact that he had an erection. She knew it before all that. She felt it back at his house. Something between them had shifted and it was as if she could anticipate his needs without him having to tell her or show her.

His teeth ached to kiss her and to bite her. A carnal and spiritual feeling overwhelmed him. His willpower was incredible but there was only so much he could take. He was as weak as any man and her wolf was luring his out to play. Perhaps he could be gentle. She needed him. She needed him. 

He grasped the back of her head and his lips found her mouth. The kiss was hot and electric  and wild. She lifted a thigh up to his hip and he used his free hand to keep it in place, pasting their hips together.

The whimper that fell from his mouth had her grinning and feeling powerful. She grasped onto his shoulders and let the weightlessness of the water aid her in lifting her other leg to wrap around his hips. Harry groaned and brought his other hand down to keep her thighs held up in place.

Their naked bodies were in sync as he began to walk her out of the water and to the small spot where the sand met the craggy rocks. He’d take care of her. Make love to her gently and soothe her ache. Soothe his own ache. 

Their mouths never parted as he walked out of the water and carefully placed her down into the sand, his knees falling into the granules as he put himself between her thighs. With her legs open he could smell her in a way that was overwhelming. He groaned and licked into her mouth before parting from the kiss with a gasp.

The scar on her chest and over her neck had him filled with jealousy and hatred. He was glad he’d killed James for even placing a finger on his girl. His lips pressed over her scar just above her breast and she ran her fingers into his long hair as he pecked wet kisses along the skin that had been forever marred. 

“I’m going to make it better,” he whispered between kisses, “Make you feel whole again. Give you everything you need. Show you what it means to be mine…”

She closed her eyes and threw her head back as his mouth worked upward slowly and over the skin on her neck. His tongue laved softly and his lips grazed over the sensitive spots that were still healing. She had never felt such need before in her life. Sure she’d been horny before and had never been more turned on by anyone the way she was with Harry. But this was different. Something else was at play and she didn’t have the mind to dwell on it. She only knew that she needed him.

“Please…” she breathed out her plea as his warm mouth soothed her flesh and his nose nudged at her jaw.

“Hurts doesn’t it?” He continued kissing every inch of her scar as he pushed her back down into the sand, “I’m the only one that can make it better.”

She knew it was true. Whatever was happening in her could only be quieted by him.

Nodding her head she spread her legs further, hoping he’d put her out of her misery and fuck her into oblivion, “Harry, please…”

He looked down over her soft body and the scars, and felt emotions rise in his heart. He hated James even in his death, but he was beyond grateful that she was still his. That she was alive. He would worry later about the guilt and the real issue at hand. His own urges and her excruciating need were beckoning to be dealt with immediately. He could practically feel the ache in her body. Her tummy was emanating heat and he felt bad that she was in such pain. She wasn’t used to this level of arousal and need yet. She would learn to deal with it eventually but for now he would give her relief.

Her cry of pleasure was loud, echoing off the rocks of the cove that surrounded them as he placed his mouth on her throbbing pussy, already pulsing and clenching and dripping. 

The sting of her fingers pulling at his hair had him growling into her with delight. He could tell she was urging him in harder but he was going to resist doing anything hard or painful. That would come later. When he was certain she was ready for it. 

His tongue was wide and flat as he tugged it up and down her slick cunt. She was so wet he was certain he couldn’t possibly lick it all up and the flavor was just like before but now it tasted truly nourishing to him. He held her thighs apart gently as he dove into her like she was a meal. Licking and sucking at her bits. 

She writhed and moaned, her hips lifting off the sand and bucking into his face making him nearly lose his grip on her thighs. She was strong. He shouldn’t have been surprised but he was still getting used to the notion that she was like him now. 

“Fuck… yes…” she cooed loudly as his scalp was on fire from the way she was yanking his hair.

Harry didn’t lift his mouth to chuckle or respond and taunt her like he wanted. He needed to make her come so he kept his lips at work on her pussy.

When he began to kiss her clit and pull at it with the smallest nip she squealed and cried out his name as her thighs attempted to close around his head. He held her down but he didn’t want to hurt her so he moved his palms up to grip the underside of her knees to keep her legs pressed down.

She continued bucking as her muscles tensed and her moans grew louder. His nose and mouth and chin were shiny and sticky with her as he rubbed his nose into her clit and stuck his tongue into the opening and past her little muscle, the slick gushing noises the only  background sound to her gasps and soft pants.

Harry was feeling his own cock leak and throb. Just tasting her and knowing how good he was making her feel was putting him on edge. He swallowed down her arousal and took a gasp of breath before putting his face back into her cunt for more.

She’d never felt it like this before. Something far more intense was happening in her body and she didn’t know if it was because it was her first orgasm since she nearly died or just knowing that Harry was a werewolf and he was probably enjoying the taste of her in a way she never realized before. That all those times he’d told her how much he liked her scent and her taste, he wasn’t just saying it to make her feel good, he actually meant it. Or just knowing that he was a werewolf in general… probably all of the above. 

When her orgasm snapped over her body she tightened her grip on his hair he grunted into her pussy in pain, but it didn’t stop him from lapping at her and sucking her clit. She was shaking so hard and pulling at his hair so tight that he was having a hard time moving his mouth over her the way he wanted. Instead, she was moving his face over her soft crease and clit the way she wanted. 

Her cries were loud. It almost sounded as if someone was hurting her. Like she was wailing in pain and anguish. Harry understood that this was because of her intense need to release. Her first release as a werewolf by the hands of her lover. Her mate. He rolled his eyes into the back of his head in ecstasy of his own. He’d not come but he could. His own cock was neglected and hot and if he allowed it, he’d come all over himself and the sand below. But he wanted to come inside of her. He wanted to feel her around him and he knew she was going to want it. 

The part of him that wanted to wait and to talk first was already a distant memory left back in his kitchen. His instincts and his wolf had taken over at that moment.

He felt her release his hair as she sighed, wiggling underneath him.

Y/N grabbed at him, pulling him up and over her, “Want you inside me, right now. Do it while I’m still pulsing around nothing.”

Harry was beyond trying to fight this, eating her out had driven him over the edge. He was determined to give her everything she wanted and luckily for him, it was exactly what he wanted as well. The way she’d clawed at him to get him on top of her made him feral, he wondered if she was realizing the amount of force she’d just exerted in doing so, but he couldn’t dwell on it for too long, not when he looked down at her and she looked like she was going to howl with how much she wanted it. 

She yanked him against her lips and devoured his mouth, licking her arousal off of him and humming profusely, and in turn, Harry didn’t waste a single moment longer before sinking himself into her juicy cunt. The cry she let out was akin to an injured wolf’s and he knew he wasn’t hurting her, she was just giving in to her natural instincts now. That of letting him dominate her completely. 

He pulled back a bit to watch her and when she opened her eyes and her golden irises flashed at him he groaned loudly, allowing his own to take over. Her mouth fell agape and she reached to push his hair out of his face to take him all in better while he slowly but steadily fucked into her. “Harry… your eyes. They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re exactly who and what you should be, I’m so damn lucky,” she rolled her eyes to the back of her head in ecstasy and Harry thought his heart was going to burst at the amount of love he felt for her. 

He didn’t know how it was possible he now loved her even more than before, but being wanted and loved for exactly who he was turned out to be a lot more important to him than he’d thought it would be. He thought he could hide this side of him from her forever and be fine with it, and he’d have done it gladly to keep her. But having it all out into the open and her so accepting of it was something he’d never even allowed himself to hope for. 

Well, almost everything out into the open. And god, was she beautiful too. She’d always been, of course, but now that she was like him it did things to him he couldn’t even explain. And it looked so right, so natural. Like she was always meant to be a werewolf. He couldn’t wait to watch her discover everything and come into her own completely. He only wished she’d accept it and embrace it fully.

He was snapped out of his reverie when she nipped at his neck and that only made him drive into her more urgently. Noting it had stung a bit too much, his eyes landed on her mouth and he could see her pointy canines pinching her plump lower lip, a bit of blood coating it.

The sight made him almost come then and there, making him moan and slow his pace a bit to regain focus. As much as he wanted to drag it out and go at it for hours, he needed to milk another orgasm from her and hopefully satiate her craving for a bit, because this was rapidly escalating and getting out of hand. She was completely giving into her natural instincts; and if she noticed any of the signs she was presenting she’d freak out and that was not the way he wanted her to find out.

He flipped her over as though she weighed nothing, not having to hide his natural strength from her anymore and began pounding into her in earnest. He was close, so close, and he knew she was too with how she moaned and whimpered and called out his name repeatedly. But he didn’t want to knot into her just yet, he first needed to explain that to her, plus this wasn’t really the setting for it, he wanted to be able to cuddle with her like that in his expensive bedding back at home, not on this rocky terrain that was sure to leave some bruises on her as it was. He knew she could take it now, he’d of course never have allowed it had she still been just human, but even so, she was recovering, and he didn’t want her feeling any discomfort. 

“Please come inside me, Harry. I don’t care. I need it... I can’t explain how much–fuck, how much I need it.”

She needn’t have worried, she wasn’t in heat (yet), so it wasn’t risky like that, but of course she’d worry about getting pregnant. Yet another reason why he needed to find a way to tell her, to avoid all the unnecessary worry on her part. For now, though, he was going to enjoy spilling into her warm cunt, because he needed it just as much. His eyes caught glimpse of her hands she’d rested her smushed cheek against, and her sharp nails were on display. Her much sharper nails. He couldn’t wait for her to claw at his back using them soon, but right now he needed to make sure she didn’t notice them. He grabbed her by her elbows and pulled her back against him, holding her hands behind her back with one arm and snaking the other to her front, finding her clit as he kept thrusting into her from this new angle.

She was already on edge and it only took her a few moments to reach her peak, crying out and letting her head fall back against his shoulder. The sight of the mark on her neck that she probably didn’t even notice wasn’t lost on him though, that was something that would always taunt him, knowing it was someone else’s bite that marked her. But he could claim it as his now, because she was, she was his. It was his cock she was pulsing around, his arms she was falling back into, his name she was whimpering- and so he allowed himself to bite over her mark as he finally gave in to his most primal urge- that of claiming her completely, while he let go and finally filled her up to the brim.

She didn’t even feel the sting of it, she was that far gone; if anything, it was pleasurable for her- as it should be. And for Harry? It was the hardest he’d ever come in his life. His fangs deep into her delicate neck and his cock even deeper into her perfect pussy, she was made just for him, and now she was his in every sense of the word.

With breaths heaving and soft gasps, Harry kept her tight against his chest. He wanted to tell her everything. Wanted so much for her to know what he was thinking. What had just happened to her. What she could expect and that it would only get better and better. If she thought that was intense…

And it was. She didn’t know how to describe the ecstasy, the relief… But it was more than just physical. Everything in and around her felt lighter and more lovely. She was happier than she’d ever been, she felt. She had a sudden urge to run and play; something she hadn’t felt in many years. It was as if being with Harry, everything just made more sense.

With a laugh she wiggled out of his arms and ran back into the water, diving in and swimming out toward the middle, only emerging with a sharp inhale for breath when her lungs needed air.

Harry couldn’t help but look at her in awe. His heart throbbed in his chest with love for her. 

“Come on! Get back in!” Y/N shouted and began to glide through the water.

Shaking his head with a laugh he walked back into the icy water and then dove under to meet her in the center of the small cove. 

She kept her eyes on the water, waiting for him to emerge but she felt his hand on her ankle before she saw him. With a yelp, she laughed and ducked under to pull at him.

Harry wrapped his arms around her body and pushed them both upward to the surface together. The lighthearted moment suddenly halted as they kept their gazes locked. Y/N moved her arms over his shoulders and drew her face in close to his, brushing their noses together, “I’m so glad I’m here with you. I’m glad I’m alive. I’m glad you’re alive. I don’t know what I would have done. I thought I lost you and that’s the last thing I remember before…” she paused, feeling herself get emotional she swallowed her tears, “It just feels like… destiny to be here with you.”

He could feel and hear her heart beating in her chest and he knew she could feel his do the same. It was as if his whole life had all been leading him to this moment. He knew that this woman was his mate. He’d always known it. Maybe ever since the first night he laid eyes on her in the woods all that time ago. Despite the fact that she had a gun pointed at him, there was just something about her. Something that he knew was different. He belonged to her before he ever met her. 

“I’m so glad you’re here too. That we’re here together,” he looked down at her beautiful face as he continued, “I was ready to kill everyone when I thought you weren’t going to make it. Niall said there was no hope. That it was… too late for you,” he inhaled a shaky breath remembering the state she was in just days ago.

“Tell me about what happened. Everything I don’t know about, before, and after the fight. I want to know what happened.”

Harry began to describe the day he was taken and how he’d been outnumbered. He told her why it’d come down to that, about James’ and Irina’s involvement, the way the elders didn’t listen to him having already made up their minds and weren’t going to give him a fair trial.

But with Y/N’s quick thinking and by her reaching out to Niall a chain of events was set off that actually helped matters. 

“Lester is a pack leader too, as you know now. The Pack of the Western Plains. He has connections all over. He’s very well respected. So, with his resources he made it so that there was a trial at the very least.”

“And Eddie too? He was there.” She said, remembering the events of that day. 

“Yes. He was finally able to shift back into his human form. Because of you,” Harry brought a hand up to her face and gently brushed his knuckles over her temple.“I expected that no matter how the trial ended there would be a fight to the death. And I was certain that no matter how many drugs they’d given me or that they’d left me without food and water that I would be able to do away with James rather easily. But I was weakened. Significantly. It’s the only reason he even had the chances he did. It’s why he got in a few good tears. Had I been in my normal shifted state he would have never been able to penetrate my skin and I would have killed him within the first thirty seconds. And he knew that. So did everyone else.”

“They all let you fight like that? Did your pack not respect you as their alpha?”

Harry sighed and nodded, “They never respected me. They were always very rigid in their beliefs. They preferred the old ways of doing things. Most packs nowadays are more open and lenient. There are still strict rules we have to follow but tolerance is practiced these days. Not my pack… my old pack.” 

“Are you worried they’ll come back and try to hurt you?” 

Putting his arms around her low back protectively he pressed his forehead to hers, “I am. I’m worried they’ll try to hurt you too.”

“Even though you’ve given up the pack? And you won the fight?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t put it past them. I’ll do anything I can to protect you,” Harry paused and leaned back to look at Y/N again, “Which is why I think it would be good for us to visit Lester and Alma at the farm for a while. Get away from here for a bit. Just until we can get our bearings and heal.”

The smile on her face gave Harry relief. He wasn’t sure she’d be up for it, but she’d been surprising him since she woke up from her coma. 

“That sounds like a really good idea. I’d love to spend more time with Eddie too.”

His heart continued to lob in his chest wildly. She was more than perfect for him in every way. He couldn’t contain his joy to have her in his arms, “He’d love that. Edward is very fond of you. And he was there, at Niall’s practice. With all of us while you were in that bed. He was devastated.”

Y/N nodded and felt awful about putting anyone through such distress. She knew it wasn’t her fault but she could imagine what it would have been like to watch a friend or lover unconscious in bed and not know if they’d come out of it or not.

“... And you? How did you deal with me being in that bed?”

Harry shook his head and let his eye contact falter for a moment as he thought back to how completely ruined he felt, “Felt like I would die if you didn’t make it. Like I couldn’t breathe or eat. I talked to you all day. Kept myself close by your side and encouraged you to wake up. Made sure you were comfortable in the bed even though I knew you couldn’t really feel anything. I didn’t know what to do. Niall kept telling me it was impossible–” Harry inhaled a sharp breath and tried to calm his emotions but his eyes began to fill with tears with just the memory of how utterly hopeless everything felt. 

“Hey,” Y/N moved her hands to cup Harry’s face, “I’m right here. And I’m very much alive. We both are. I’m not going anywhere. You saved me.” 

Swallowing his tears he blinked and forced the smallest smile, “And you saved me. If it weren’t for you I would be dead right now.”

Y/N leaned in to kiss the gorgeous werewolf. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten so lucky to have him in her life. That he wanted her. She only felt more connected, in tune with him. It was as if the accident had altered something in her soul. She was changed. She figured it was love.

Harry pinched her hip softly and pulled away from the kiss. He couldn’t help it. He needed to be honest with her. He’d told her his truth when she was asleep but now that she was wide awake and in his arms he knew he had to say it that very moment or he’d suffocate, “I love you, Y/N.”

Her lips parted at his admission and she was suddenly aware of her body against his and the way his heart was rapidly throbbing in his chest at the same pace as her own. She felt as if she’d heard him say it to her before. That this wasn’t the first time. 

She gripped his biceps tight and felt herself shiver at the intensity of his bright green eyes. He loved her. He truly did and she felt it deep in her spirit. Without a doubt, he loved her.

“Harry, I love you too. So much,” she gasped as he squeezed her tight to his chest and felt him purring against her own. The comfort that brought to her was consuming. She sighed and held him tight, her cheek smushed into his shoulder.

Everything around them was dizzy and soft. She was safe in his arms. She was safe with her lover. 

When he pulled back a bit and let his head fall back, inhaling sharply and then howling loudly, Y/N gasped in excitement and couldn’t hold back her tears of joy. She smiled widely looking at Harry in his element, expressing happiness freely and it made her own heart flutter. He looked back at her, his wide smile matching her own, the echo of his wolfish howl still resounding in the cove, and she’d never seen him look happier. 

She’d done that. Just by loving him. 

The sudden vibrating in her own chest startled her. She looked up at Harry whose eyes were wide as he looked down at her. 

“Harry– what…?” She looked down at her bare body, putting a small bit of distance between herself and Harry. The vibrating stopped suddenly as she put a hand up to her chest and looked into the crystal water surrounding them and reflecting the sky above and both their faces. 

But then she stilled completely, the ripples on the surface cleared away and she focused on the features of her face, being mostly drawn to the bright golden irises staring back at her in the reflection of the water.

In stunned silence she looked up at Harry before looking back into the water again.

He knew it was only a matter of time. He just hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

A/N: (@fkinavocado and @gurugirl here) The long awaited update is here! Thank you for sticking with us! 

please remember to like & reblog if you enjoyed this, and most importantly, come share your thoughts on it with us here 💌

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[indigochromatic]

Some Basic Advice About EMDR for Systems

(drawing on our own experiences, reading about it, and comparing notes with our therapist)

This is mainly aimed at systems who are considering doing EMDR or planning on it, but want to know what the process is like and what to look out for, with some personal experiences sprinkled in.

Under the cut, because I talk a lot:

General Concept

I think the big picture in our experience is that EMDR is/was like…an intensifier for the kind of headspace/internal system interaction processing work that a lot of systems do naturally, at least a little, especially if they have decent internal communication. This has both upsides and downsides/areas to be cautious about.

A lot of EMDR pre-work (often called “resourcing”) is about making sure you have a good toolbox of “mental tricks/techniques” to be able to handle unexpected intense emotions, feelings, and/or imagery etc that often comes up when you get into trying to work with traumatic stuff. This is in my opinion very important, and something your therapist should take at least a few sessions to talk with you about even if you already have good tools for it already, just to make sure they know your strategies and you’re all on the same page. Also super common and normal to spend some time developing extra ones if needed—stuff like “the box” for temporarily containing crisis emotions when needed, having a mental “safe space” that you can come back to, etc. Also, EMDR specifically tends to often be a little rigid/scripted in the types of visualizations and metaphors you’re “supposed” to use, but in my opinion a good therapist should be flexible enough to adapt to equivalent images/techniques you may already have (like, “imagine you’re viewing the traumatic memory on a movie screen, or out the window of a train going through a tunnel” is a common instruction; if, say, your headspace has a lot of fantasy elements and it makes more internal sense to be viewing the memory via…scrying in a dish or something, your therapist should be down with you doing that instead, if you want to).

As for the sessions themselves, a big thing we don’t hear articulated a lot is that, in our experience  and that of some other folks we know, EMDR has a tendency of being…like, sneakily intense: It doesn’t necessarily hit you all at once in the session, which may just feel like “ok, that was Some Therapy Work but I’m chill”, but then over the rest of the day and maybe even the next few days, it’s not uncommon to keep feeling a lot of emotional intensity/vulnerability, having more intense “internal conversations and/or realizations”, etc. For this reason, EMDR is generally supposed to start with a very mild memory-to-process, like 4-5 out of 10 max.

Notes of Caution and Stuff to Keep In Mind

Especially for folks who already heavily dissociate from emotional trauma, it’s super easy to think you’re “going too easy” only to find that the memory has a lot more emotional baggage than you realized—really go easy on yourself when you start, EMDR is like psychology power tools and you absolutely can hurt yourself. (We’ve heard from plenty of systems who had bad therapists who did not adequately support them in doing EMDR, and absolutely fucked them over by starting too big and retraumatizing the hell out of them— this isn’t meant as fear-mongering, especially if you really like and trust your therapist, but just genuine “hey, EMDR can be very volatile stuff, which is part of why it can be so helpful, but also means that it’s important to not skip out on the safety precautions and self-care”.) What this means in practice is often stuff like: (our recommendations at least) - trying to schedule breaks/easy days immediately after - possibly getting someone to drive you home, especially if you know you’re going after a Big Thing, because the dissociation hangover immediately after can be pretty real - start with a memory that feels "too easy", and scale up if a week later it still felt trivial/like you’re fully over it, because it’s way easier to ramp up than try to do damage control.

Our personal experience, in tl:dr form, was that it felt like the core of the technique was really useful for us, and mirrored some of the most useful instances of self-processing we’d had before while also kind of serving as a “shortcut” to it—but, it was pretty intense and we didn’t really like/fit well with the therapists who we were working with at the time, which is why we stopped (didn’t want to keep doing an emotionally intense thing with folks we didn’t trust).

Finally, a bit about EMDR and "maybe I'm plural but I'm not sure, and/or may not have great in-system communication": yeah, this is a case to be especially slow and careful, for all the aforementioned reasons; what my instinct/recommendation would be in those cases is to: 1) make sure you learn a lot of resourcing techniques 2) try to check in with yourself(s) frequently and with compassion/intent-to-collaborate, "ask the inside of your head how it's feeling" and even if you're not sure whether the "reply" was just your own thoughts or a headmate, listen and try to engage with/respect those responses and emotions 3) if you start getting warning signs/back-off signals/sudden intense feelings, listen to them and lighten up, pause the session if you need to, do some self care etc, even (especially) if you don't know why you felt that way and it seems 'odd/random', and really you're super curious about what's going on and just want to figure it out. Like...you and the inside of your head and/or other system members are trying to navigate a complicated D&D maze together, in the dark, and you each only have part of the map--so you have to work together and trust each other, especially listening to warning signals even when your "part of the map" doesn't show anything to worry about there. And the more you work together and trust each other, the better everything gets, including therapy work.

When it's "Death By A Thousand Papercuts"-type Trauma Instead

If you're not sure where to start because there aren't a lot of obvious "Big Bad Memories" that feel like they adequately explain the issues you're having, some recommendations:

-> First, note that "no Big Bad Memories are immediately coming to mind, idk" is super common in systems and also in CPTSD, way more than I think most folks realize, so know that you're not alone and also that it doesn't mean you don't necessarily have stuff deserving of help and support.

-> So yeah, there's kinda two things imo you can try. The first is, if your therapist is on the more flexible side, you can try doing EMDR with either "this specific memory wasn't too bad, but it's representative of an ongoing pattern or theme that wasn't great" (say, loneliness at school or something, and you pick a specific lunchtime memory, which wasn't really That Bad in the moment, but you were kinda sad and/or upset about it and it feels representative of the overall trend you're trying to process/heal). Or you can try just doing the EMDR process on the theme itself, at the abstract level, and see what comes up--again, I'd really recommend starting with a much lower-stakes issue/theme than you think you need, just because it's really easy to underestimate, especially for systems and other folks whose brains dissociate a lot. (And especially if you know your system has episodic amnesia--e.g. event-amnesia/blackout amnesia--as well as emotional amnesia.)

The second is, there are other "more flexible" types of similar somatic therapy techniques (brainspotting is the name of another one, and there's more I can't think of rn) that might fit better instead-- tldr, totally worth asking your therapist about the whole situation, and asking what they'd feel most qualified for/comfortable with, in my opinion. You don't need to be doing Specifically Exactly EMDR to do somatic trauma therapy, even though EMDR is one of the more well-known modalities for it, and finding a version that feels right and not like you're forcing anything is really valuable (and you're not 'being picky' if it takes a while to find one; you're allowed to want to find one that feels right).

[heyiwrotesomethings]

DEMON SLAYER CUZ YESSSSSSSS.

shinobu x female reader

I wanna kick uzuis ass again soooooooo

Uzui is being a dick to everyone because he is in a mood and make fun of shinobu (u find the reason nth comes to mind rn) and the reader having an awful day herself kicks his ass and brings him to his wives "next time that disgrace you call a husband insults my soon to be wife again I'm gonna cut his tongue of and shove it so far up his ass it will come out of his mouth again 🙃

have a good day ladies oh and do keep him a check or I will 🙂 byeeeee"

gl finishing all of those rqst

Bad Morning

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I don’t know what’s up with me, but this threat was a bit too descriptive for me and since this is like, at least the third time we’re beating Uzui up, this one is kind of lackluster, apologies! Hopefully I still got the message across lol. Hope you still like it! Word Count: ~1,220

Uzui Tengen woke up on the wrong side of the bed earlier that morning. Which was to say Suma had accidentally pushed Makio out of bed, which in turn lead to Makio dragging her out of said bed by the ankles in retaliation. Tengen tried his best to ignore them and focus on Hinatsuru’s cute mumblings as she turned to lay on her other side, but Makio’s growls and Suma’s cries made it downright impossible.

“Could you two keep it down, goddamnit! Why does this have to happen every morning?!”

“Maybe we should invest in a bigger bed.” Hinatsuru murmured, pressing a pillow over her head.

“Or we just make Suma sleep on the floor. She kicked me last night too and I have the bruise to prove it!” Makio pulled up the hem of her sleepware to show the bruise her thigh was sporting and Suma wailed.

“I’m sorry! Let me kiss it better! Don’t make me sleep on the floor Makio, please!”

“Nobody is sleeping on the floor!” Tengen groaned. “I’ll get a bigger bed, okay? Can I just get one more hour of sleep—“

“Caw!” Nijimaru came in through the window with flapping wings and rattling beads. A damn fine, flamboyant bird if Tengen did say so himself, but he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather see less at the moment. “You’ll be late for the meeting if you stay in bed any longer, Uzui!”

“Damn it all, that’s today?” Tengen shot out of bed, jamming his toe against the bedside table. He cursed and limped his way to the bathroom, now even more pissed because he would have to skip his morning skin care routine if he was going to make it to Oyakata-sama’s mansion in time.

He barely had enough time to bathe and put on his makeup before heading out the door. No time to even eat breakfast. At least Suma ran him some toast at the door and jumped up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It certainly made up for the rude awakening at least, sweet girl.

Still, all the toast and kisses in the world couldn’t make him shake off the sour mood he was in. His morning routine was sacred. When his routine was disturbed, it honestly felt like his whole day was ruined.

People have bad days. It’s normal to maybe ask for a little space, to tell people you aren’t really feeling yourself, but the moment you use your bad morning as an excuse to be shitty to other people, then expect your day to get much, much worse.

“Iguro, come on man. Can you get your scrawny ass outta my way? Shouldn’t you be sitting like a broody tree’d raccoon by now?”

“We’re talking, walk around. It’s a fucking garden.” Sanemi was quick to shoot back as Obanai glared.

“Nobody can make anything easy today, can they?” Tengen sighed loudly, bumping into Sanemi as he walked past the two fuming men.

He rested in his usual spot, hoping to maybe get a little bit more sleep in before the Master arrived. However, Mitsuri was talking up a storm with Shinobu and (Y/n) and the excitement in her voice as she spoke made it hard for Tengen to relax.

“She made me dango for helping me get her cat out of the tree! Isn’t that great? It was really good too! And then—!”

“Gods, Kanroji,” Tengen groaned, “would it kill you to take a page out of Tomioka’s book and be quite for once?”

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?” (Y/n) scowled.

“Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, it doesn’t give you license to make everyone else around you feel miserable as well.” Shinobu chimed in, she put a reassuring hand on Mitsuri’s shoulder while she gave Tengen a disapproving look.

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Obanai growled, Kaburamaru hissed in agreement.

“Perhaps you should take a page out of Tomioka-san’s book and butt out of conversations that have nothing to do with you, hm? Contrary to what your ego may tell you, the world does not revolve around you.” Shinobu added for good measure.

“Big words for somebody so small. I could crush you like a grape between my fingers.”

“Uzui, my friend! You should stop talking before you say something you’ll really regret!” Rengoku advised.

“So disgruntled,” Shinobu tisked pityingly, “Given how out of sorts you are this morning, I doubt you could even brush me with those meaty, perpetually sweaty hands.

Tengen took a deep breath through clenched teeth, but (Y/n) spoke up before him, her voice low, warning,

“Uzui-san, I’d listen to Rengoku-san if I were you. Act like an adult and let it go. With any luck, the meeting will be over in an hour and you can sleep the rest of the day away.”

“Tch,“ Tengen sneered, “how about this, you tell your little, and I do mean shrimpy, puny, girlfriend to zip it, and then I will too.”

“I am not her keeper.” (Y/n) said through gritted teeth.

“Well if she can’t keep her mouth shut, why should I?!”

“Ah, my deepest apologies, Uzui-san,” Shinobu began, not looking very sorry at all, “(Y/n) and I had a rather late night in the lab ourselves. My mistake for trying to hold you to the same standards we hold ourselves to.”

Tengen was seeing red. He wanted to wipe that perfect little smile right off of Shinobu’s face and before he could think better of it, he had thought of something to say that would hit her where it would hurt.

“Wipe that fake-ass smile off your face, little Kanae wannabe. You want to imitate her so bad, start by acting like less of a bitch maybe.”

Well, that sure made the smile fall from Shinobu’s lips. Her expression became impassive, an eerie blankness, but no one took the time to really notice because (Y/n) was already leaping to her feet, kicking up pebbles that scattered over Tengen’s thighs as she got closer.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Sanemi growled, his head snapping towards Uzui.

“Uzui-san, I know you can be abrasive, but that kind of talk is unacceptable.” Gyomei spoke up for the first time that day and that was how Tengen knew he might have really fucked up.

“Okay, okay, you are a fucking dead man now! I don’t give a damn about you not getting your beauty sleep, you wanna play nasty, we’ll play nasty alright!”

(Y/n) knew Shinobu could take care of herself, but she also knew that Uzui had hit a nerve. Like Shinobu had said, they had a tough night, tougher than Uzui’s, she imagined. She had been helping Shinobu with her latest experiment on her journey to find a poison that could end an Upper Moon.

Despite all of the promising research, the experiment had fallen flat, or well, more accurately caused a small explosion that (Y/n) and Shinobu spent the next three hours cleaning up after. Thankfully they had been wearing the proper gear during the whole ordeal, but they still smelt overwhelmingly of wisteria.

(Y/n) got close enough to Uzui that he could smell it on her and the potency stung his nose. She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and he engulfed her wrist with his hand—

“Oyakata-sama is coming!” Mitsuri squealed, noticing two of the Master’s children leading him around the building. It must have been one of his good days and he decided to take a stroll.

“I’m not done with you.” (Y/n) hissed, letting go of Uzui’s uniform with a shove before quickly dropping to the ground.

“You’re like a yappy little dog,” he sneered, “All I gotta say is, ‘boo!’ and you’ll be shaking in your sandals.”

“The first thing I’m gonna do is cut out your own tongue and feed it to you, asshole.”

Tengen grit his teeth together. The Master was much too close now to continue trading vulgarities.

Tengen started out the meeting boiling hot, but listening to the Master speak had its usual calming affects and before Tengen knew it, he was in a relaxed, meditative state. It was the closest thing to sleep one could have while awake. It was like magic. The Master bid them all farewell and Tengen inhaled deeply, then released a relaxed exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. He felt so much better—

(Y/n)’s fist came sailing at him with all the force of a mantis shrimp and she decked him, making direct contact with his temple.

“Alright Uzui, how about you and me go for a little stroll?” (Y/n) grunted, heaving the hulking man to his feet was no simple task, especially now that he was having a hard time standing up himself after that vision spotting hit. She turned to look back at Shinobu with adoration and concern, “Would you like to come along, dear?”

“I suppose.” Shinobu shrugged before rising to her feet as well. Truthfully, she didn’t want to have to look at Uzui for another minute, but if (Y/n) accidentally killed him, that would be one less Hashira and they were already spread thin enough as it was.

The remaining Hashira, that cared enough to, watched on as (Y/n) pulled Tengen away from the mansion by his ear, very thankful they weren’t in his shoes at that moment.

Tengen shuffled down the path, bending with (Y/n)’s sharp pushes and pulls while the two women discussed what they should eat for lunch. Sadistic beings…

Though it was hard for his eyes to focus because of that sharp punch to his temple, he soon recognized the scenery and realized (Y/n) was taking him home, to what end, he was afraid to find out.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He heard (Y/n)’s muffled voice through the ringing in his ears.

“Oh gods, what did he do this time?” Makio groaned.

“(Y/n)-san, I don’t know what he did, but please, be a little more gentle with him.” Hinatsuru requested hesitantly.

She was hesitant because she knew her husband had a track record of saying or doing stupid things. Even Suma, the most sympathetic of the bunch, could agree that sometimes getting slapped around a little bit was warranted when it came to their husband’s unfiltered words and uncouth actions.

“Don’t worry, I caught him off guard with the first punch, so I didn’t go any further. I probably nearly fractured his skull since he didn’t think to defend himself at all, don’t you think so, Shinobu?”

“Oh yes, given how he’s been wobbling, and that he threw up in the bushes on the way here, it’s safe to say he would have been in real trouble if you had decided to keep going.”

Makio, Hina and Suma paled, quickly taking possession of their loopy husband when (Y/n) offered him to them. It was difficult to keep all that muscle up right, so they could only imagine just how furious (Y/n) was to have been able to basically drag him all the way home.

“The next time your disgraceful, woefully un-flamboyant husband says or does anything that hurts my fiancée, intentionally or not, he may not make it back to you in one piece. Understand?”

“Yes, we’ll talk to him. I’m sorry.” Hinatsuru hung her head low.

“You have nothing to apologize for, but when your husband snaps out of it, you might suggest he start looking for ways to atone because I’m not quite so sure I could hold myself back if I see him again too soon. That single punch was not satisfying at all.”

“We’ll work on it.” Makio swore.

“We promise! Please don’t kill him!” Suma sobbed.

“I won’t kill him, too much paperwork.” (Y/n) promised, then after a pause added, “Well, I wouldn’t kill him on purpose anyway.”

“Here,” Shinobu stepped up to the three horrified looking wives and handed Hinatsuru a small paper bag, “I suspect he has a concussion. I have provided all instructions and materials needed to give him proper treatment.”

“Thank you…” the three answered in unison.

Shinobu gave them a short nod of acknowledgment before linking back up with (Y/n). The two strolled off like nothing had happened, smiling and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they disappeared over the hill.

“We need that new bed stat!” Suma said with an exhausted sigh as the trio dragged Tengen into the house.

“I think our dumbass husband needs a personality check more.” Makio grunted.

[inklessletter]

I am here to throw you (yeah, you guessed it)

✨another steddie prompt✨

In tonight's episode:

AU 90s era, in which Steve's long life dream has always been to become an elementary teacher (because when he was a kid he learned the hard way how much a person who cares can make a difference) but instead he ends up working for his father in the family company with the worst morals ever, so he's miserable. Steve's a good person. He has a kind, sweet heart. And he wants to quit but it is not easy, even if Robin tells him that he can stay at hers and if things get messy with his dad he will not be alone.

But the family situation has always been complicated, and now that he's almost thirty is still no different from when he was a teenage boy. Family is family. So he compensates every bad feeling about what he does at work with being a good citizen.

He takes care of plants and pets of his neighours, he's not a stranger in his building.

He helps the elderly to cross the street.

He fucks up his suit to climb that tree in which that stupid cat is stuck on.

He helps this random, hot dude with a killer smile he just met to load up his van with furniture and stuff to help him with the move.

And if they've been shamelessly flirting, and the guy asks him if he want to have a lifechanging experience with him, because he has been so incredibly nice and altruistic with a random person who just happened to need help, and Steve's weak for a moment after arguably having the worst week of the year, and doesn't want to get into another discussion with Robin about him quitting his job like, right away, so he agrees to jump into the van with this Eddie guy to take that offer of a cathartic coffee ("and who knows, maybe dinner, if you're not busy") he has nothing to feel guilty about.

Right?

Not at the moment, at least. Because after forty five minutes in the van (engaged in a very much flirty and absorbing conversation where Steve feels safe enough to open up about his work situation) Steve asks Eddie when they are going to grab that promised coffee, and Eddie grimaces and says, "yeah, well, we're going out of the state. I should have told you that."

"Out of the state? Wait, wait, I have to be back tonight. I have to go to work tomorrow," he says, but Eddie cuts him.

"It's not going to be possible. I should not go back to Chicago in like, a long while," Eddie says.

"Why not?" Steve is suspicious.

"You know, when I told you that you were incredibly nice for helping without even asking, I wasn't lying. I literaly couldn't believe it," Eddie deadpans, gripping the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. "And when you started flirting (you know you started it) I thought 'yeah, this guy is something else'. So, when I offered you a lifechanging experience it wasn't just words," Eddie says. "I think this is just as good moment as any other to tell you that I am not moving anywhere. You just helped me with the biggest burglary I've ever done."

Steve's eyes go impossibly wide, and every trace of blood leaves his face instantly. His soul is somewhere in the road, too. He can only stare at Eddie, who, by the way, returns to Steve's cheeks a hit of pink when he turns to him and grant him the most wicked smile ever.

And when Eddie says low, velvety, sensually "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm still taking you to a fancy restaurant tonight. I promise you, I'll make tonight unforgettable."

And after being all flustered, and full of anticipation, and most definitely not as angry as he should be, maybe, Steve thinks he has a thing or two to feel guilty about.

[sleepingdeath-light]

home again ; yandere!wally darling

requested by ; anonymous (09/05/23)

word count ; 2031

content ; platonic yanderes, memory loss (the puppets all had their memories forcibly wiped), references to child/teen reader, obsessive protectiveness, author’s first time writing something platonic so… yeah

note ; i haven’t written anything like this before (sfw yandere stuff) so apologies if it seems a tad off. similarly i’m still adjusting to writing wally’s character in terms of dialogue and such, so that may also seem a smidge ooc.

fandom ; welcome home

pairing ; platonic wally darling x gender neutral!reader

read also on ; ao3

It was a beautifully melancholy evening: the stars and moon were obscured with thick, grey clouds that loomed overhead like ragged old curtains; the air was thick with dust and pollen that clung to your skin and clothes like a man hanging onto the edge of a steep cliff, digging their claws in and holding on with all the relentless might you’d come to hate; your room was only dimly illuminated by the pale blue light emanating from your monitor, the low hum of the vents the only sound to compliment the clicking of keys and the tapping of the mouse. Quiet, drab and dull; how very typical of spring.

But at the very least it gave you all the excuse you needed to sit behind a screen and doomscroll. Tired eyes skimming over articles and activists decrying the latest tragedy, thousands of crabs in the metaphorical bucket of social media all fighting for the attention of bystanders — only taking pause when you came across something all too familiar, yet at the same time entirely new.

‘Does anyone else remember Welcome Home? It was pretty popular when it aired back in the 70s and my friends and I are trying to create a complete archive for it’ — the caption read. Below it was a highlighted link and a picture that had been burned into your brain since childhood: bright swatches of paint adorning every surface, all seeing eyes as big as can be, and in front of it, that permanent smile carved into yellow felt. Wally Darling and Home, you remembered them both clearly enough — clearer than you’d have liked, even.

It had been decades since you’d actively thought back on Welcome Home, on your brief stint in stardom, and frankly you’d have rather it’d been kept that way. You still held a bit of a grudge over getting axed: ‘too mature’, yeah right! Every kid loves astrology and nobody is too old to talk about their feelings… you were only 14 for crying out loud! Too mature, your ass.

But perhaps, you reasoned, it wouldn’t be too bad to take a quick trip down memory lane. Sure you’d loved the show when it aired, but you stopped watching after your section was cut, so maybe it would be cool to see what changed in the interim — and, either way, your experiences would probably be helpful to the archivists. So no harm, no foul.

————

The site was easy enough to navigate but man you didn’t expect to get so emotional when you went looking through the recovered art. They looked exactly the same as you remembered, all of them — which is kind of silly to think about since puppets and tv show characters in general tend not to change since, well, they were meant to stay consistent. Frank was always going to look terribly stern, and Julie was always going to come onto scene with a new fabulous hairdo, and Eddie was always going to trip over his own feet on his rounds, and Wally was always going to open and close each episode with a nod to the audience. These things were staples of the characters and the show’s structure so of course they’d be the same.

But, still, you somehow felt like they should have changed in your absence. A small part of your mind, an irrational part surely, crying out that they were alive and that living things were made to change — which was silly. And, frankly, a little embarrassing that you’d even had that thought at all.

So you pushed that idea to the very back of your mind where it belonged and continued to scroll through the various pages of the website. Art from official books (you were sure you even owned the ‘ask Wally’ type book and that it was still at your parents’ place), merchandise like pop up figures (the sort that were found only in cereal boxes and magazines), promotional posters and even one piece from your short tenure on the show. You remembered posing for that photograph, being told to smile and to wrap your arms around Eddie and Wally — but for some reason you couldn’t quite recall what their puppeteers were called.

Or if they even had any puppeteers in the first place.

No. That can’t be right. They were puppets, characters, they had to have someone controlling and voicing them — but none of the promotional art nor your memories supported that basic truth. It didn’t make sense.

None of it made sense. This was why you’d tried to forget that show so desperately after you left. It messed with your head far too much to be worth the effort so why bother burning out over questions that could be explained by a faulty memory.

A memory that could, in picture perfect detail, recall the route from Howdy’s store to Home as clear as crystal — as if it were your own route to-and-from primary school. A memory that could replay patchy conversations between Wally and Julie, bittersweet bickering over hairspray and hairpins that you could only recall in pieces, but that still rang clearly as if you were thinking of childhood friends. A memory that was imprinted with the feeling of warm felt embraces and puffs of warm air from stencil cut mouths that would have been impossible if they weren’t alive. Moving eyes, small bodies, freely walking, freely talking — alive and well and clear as day in your mind as normally as recalling your parents arguing over a cup of freshly brewed coffee on the mornings of each shoot.

The distinctly strong smell of the synthetic hairspray Wally used that would hang around him and mixed with the scent of oil paint like a cologne — that burned your nose if you hung around too close to him in the early morning. The sheer joy of Howdy picking you up and tossing you in the air as a congratulations for your first scene done well — caterpillar fuzz that stuck to your clothes for days, as strong as velcro. The way you and Julie squealed when Barnaby shook back and forth and sent droplets of muddy water raining down on you and on her freshly done up hair — and the joke that followed her exasperated tirade as you, through giggles, explained frustration to the audience through a camera they seemed to not be able to see.

Memories that kept unearthing themselves the deeper you went into the site, eventually culminating with you tearing up at the sight of old friends you’d been forced to leave behind. Silly, perhaps, but you recall telling the audience that it was healthy to cry and to let it all go — so at least your teenage self would be proud of your emotional vulnerability.

After a good hour of this, and more than in need of a break, you finally clicked on the attached message board and typed up a simple few sentences. A greeting and a farewell all in one before you closed down your computer and went to bed.

‘I used to have a segment on Welcome Home when I was a kid. I was meant to do astrology and emotions, before I got cut for being too old lol. This brought back so many memories. Thank you, all.’

————

Wally hadn’t meant to linger — really, he hadn’t — but there had been something oddly familiar about his latest visitor that he couldn’t quite place. Even from behind the screen he was trapped within, even as he watched their message load in, he could tell that they were different. It was their eyes, those tearful knowing eyes — he was sure he’d seen them before in that somewhere different, somewhere brighter, that came before the end he and his neighbours were trapped in.

When he saw their eyes he saw himself, a twisted altered reflection of himself that was filled to bursting with the warmth and awareness that he was created to hold within himself. A child’s eyes in the form of someone who he didn’t know yet he knew he must have once. A lingering, niggling feeling in the back of his skull, like fingertips brushing and scratching and digging into his fabric brain — rearranging and scouring and destroying and reaching for something that he couldn’t quite find.

He winced and squinted and stared through the screen to no avail, tilting his head and watching them as they flicked from screen to screen to screen desperate for a sign that he could use to place this familiar stranger. Unable to do so until finally — finally — their note came through and he was able to read the short greeting they’d left behind.

Then, and only then, did those forbidden memories come flooding back. A formidable tidal wave, a whirling rapid, of bright lights and experiences and conversations that had been torn from him and shredded in the writer’s room of their long gone creators.

He knew you, he’d always known you; the child too old for their youth that visited their neighbourhood in the beginning. Who always wore a beaming smile and treated them all with a grace beyond their years, spreading kindness and joy to his friends and to the audience only the two of you knew about. Who was far taller than his measly 12 apples of verticality but who never made him feel small. Who spoke eagerly of the constellations and painted the most wonderful pictures of stars and moons and planets far beyond their reach that he did his best to capture in his paintings. Who was only 14 but felt more like an adult than he did sometimes — he, who was crafted and sewn without a childhood — but who wasn’t above play and foley.

The child who was the absolute most; his favourite transient neighbour. All of their’s, actually.

How could he possibly have forgotten you?

You with your broad toothy grins, and your warm eyes that shone brighter than the stars you loved, and your arms that were big enough to carry even more apples than he could have ever dreamed of. You, who he promised to protect and keep away from the horrors of the world, theirs and your own. You, who never turned down a favour or plea from his neighbours.

You. Just you.

Wonderful, lovable, unforgettable you. His child of flesh, not felt, but he loved you all the same.

And he didn’t get to see you grow up, because his creators deemed you unbefitting of their world and cut you from their memories as ruthlessly as they’d cut your segments from their show. Welcome Home didn’t feel very much like a home after that — even if they didn’t quite recall what was missing.

Wally didn’t even want to think about all of the horrors and harms you’d faced throughout the years you’d been apart — he could see the wear hanging heavily in the downwards quirk of your lips and the dampened glint in your eye. He knew he’d sooner kill someone than let them hurt you, he’d threatened it plenty alongside Howdy and Eddie and Frank — they all loved you as dearly as him, once.

But in his current predicament he couldn’t do much to protect you. Couldn’t coddle you, couldn’t warm you, couldn’t sooth you with those sweets you used to love (if you even loved them anymore, it had clearly been quite some time), couldn’t do anything to help. He couldn’t even communicate with you, to apologise, to tell you he still loved you and that you were still welcome in their neighbourhood.

So he did the only thing he could; he drew you a picture. A silly little simplistic drawing, scratchy and crude, depicting a strong memory he had of you. The two of you, hand in hand, with your arms overflowing with apples you’d managed to steal from Howdy (oh how he missed such trivial things) — he hoped you remembered these moments as fondly as he did. Then, to the illustration, he attached a small message, a plea just for you, before settling back down behind the screen and hoping — praying — that you’d come back.

‘I’m sorry for forgetting you, friend, please come home’

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER ONE

Harlow

Sometimes I feel cursed.

Okay, well, not cursed exactly. But I’ve had my share of challenges in the nineteen years I’ve been on this planet. Well-meaning people—usually adults—have always told me to be thankful for my hardships. It makes you stronger. More capable. Independent.

I wish all that were true. Really, the events that have shaped my life just settle like silt inside me, tainting every thought, every action. Until I’m convinced misfortune has been braided into my DNA.

Generational trauma, isn’t that what they call it?

I dig my toes into the wet sand and look out at the Pacific Ocean. It’s hard to feel cursed here, though. Malibu is a magical place, soaked in sunshine, with a surprising small-town feel. But its best quality is how far it is from Fresno. From home. From the events of last year.

The sharp wind whips through my hair and stings my cheeks. My best friend, Talia, and I wandered down to the beach hours ago after we’d unpacked our boxes and set up our dorm rooms.

Talia called me crazy when I waded into the frigid water, dunking my head under the salty waves like some kind of baptism. Maybe it was a type of cleansing. The ghosts of my past washing away with the tide.

If only forgetting were so easy.

“Hey, look what I found!”

I turn to see Talia walk up to me with something cradled in her palm. It’s a piece of green sea glass. “It was probably a beer bottle or something originally.”

Picking it up, I angle it toward the fading sunlight, looking at it from different angles, admiring its beauty. The power of the ocean is wild—transforming an ordinary beer bottle into something so beautiful. I wonder if it has the power to transform me, too. “What are you going to do with it?”

Talia shrugs. “Turn it into a necklace or something, maybe.”

Another gust of ocean Taliaze whips through me, and my teeth start chattering. “It’s almost sunset. We should head back to the residence hall.”

Exeter University West—one of the West Coast's most prestigious colleges—is right on the beach. When Talia and I applied last year, it was a long shot. A pipe dream. We both have decent grades, but nothing spectacular. So, months later, when we were both accepted, it felt like a miracle. Then when I scored a full scholarship, I finally started to believe my luck was changing.

Exeter is the escape I’ve been desperate for. A fresh start.

I look down the length of the beach and see a huge Victorian mansion perched on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. I noticed it when we first got to campus a couple of days ago. It’s hard to miss. The giant Gothic structure is painted a dark, crimson red with navy blue trim, and ornate woodwork that makes it look out of place on a modern college campus. I was probably here first, though, and the university just encroached gradually until the house and grounds were consumed by the sprawling campus.

It’s a creepy-looking house, though. No lie.

“Our residence hall is right on the other side of that weird house,” I say.

“Okay, let’s go,” Talia says, her bottom lip quivering. “I’m turning into a brine-flavored popsicle.”

The sharp wind continues to cut through us as we walk along the sand, getting dark quickly, and we’re two girls walking alone, so I’m on full alert—glancing behind us, my hand resting on the small stun gun tucked into my front pocket.

But the beach is empty—which is surprising, considering the amount of students on campus. It rained a little earlier, and it’s freezing, so maybe that’s why no one is here. But cold or not, there would still be a couple of people out here, at least, right?

“Slow down,” Talia pouts. “Your legs are longer than mine.”

I pause so she can catch up. “Have you noticed there’s no one else out here? That’s weird, right? I mean, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold.”

“There are people out here,” she says, pointing ahead. I squint, and sure enough, there’s a fire burning about half a mile in the distance, on the beach directly below the creepy house. I don’t know how I missed that, but to be fair, the beach isn’t straight—there’s a shrub-capped berm in the way, and the fire is partially hidden behind that.

“Oh, yeah, huh.”

Talia shakes her head and continues walking. “You are so blind. I keep telling you to go to the eye doctor.”

“I’m not blind.”

“Oh, really?” she says. “So when you walked up to that girl back in high school and started telling her off because you thought she was Veronica?”

I frown, trudging after Talia in the sand. Now it’s me trying to keep up with her. “Okay, but in my defense, they could be twins. I’d like to see the DNA report on those two.”

Talia stops and rolls her eyes at me. “The girl you accosted was three inches shorter than Veronica, and has glasses—which you also need.”

I blow out a breath. “Details. Whatever.”

With a scoff, Talia turns back around and we both keep walking. The beach narrows as we approach the fire, so we have to climb over the berm to get to the other side. It’s rough, and the shrubs are spiny, but we manage to make it down the other side.

“I’m remembering why we didn’t come this way originally,” Talia says. “The sidewalk was a lot easier.”

The sidewalk also dips between several university buildings, and in the dark, there’s no way I’m taking that route. I don’t want to say that, though, so I just shrug. “This way is shorter.”

Talia just pushes out a frustrated breath.

The closer we get to the fire, though, it becomes clear that something is sketchy. There are several people, all wearing robes with hoods, gathered in a half-circle around the fire, facing the ocean, chanting something.

Chanting.

What the…?

I reach out and grab Talia, pulling her back into a crouching position. We had to walk up and over, so we’re somewhat concealed by the random tufts of brush, but not entirely. And we’re only about thirty feet away, but thankfully, I don’t think we’ve been seen.

“Holy shit,” Talia whispers.

I blink rapidly to try and see through the murky twilight. There’s one guy, drenched, and completely naked, cupping his family jewels, shivering in front of the cloaked group.

“What are they doing?” I ask my tone low.

“It could be a frat, but the robes are weird. I think this is the Society of the Burning Crown,” Talia says with a note of awe in her voice.

I swallow. “What is that? Please tell me it’s a chess club or something.”

“Does this look like a chess club?” Talia hisses. She grabs my hand and pulls me forward, but I dig my heels into the sand. “Come on, we need to get closer.”

Closer? Is she insane? “Oh, fuck, no. Whatever this is, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

She manages to drag me several feet forward, but only because fighting her could draw attention to us. So far, we’ve managed to go unnoticed, and I’d like to keep it that way.

We crouch down again, and I try to quiet my breathing. It’s not likely they can hear anything over the roaring ocean, or their weird chanting, but I’m not taking any chances. If I could stop breathing altogether, I would.

Someone from the half-circle approaches the fire. I can’t see their faces, but I’m guessing by the person’s size, and broad shoulders, it’s a guy—and he’s probably the leader. He has a long, metal-looking rod in his hand that he shoves into the fire.

“Okay, we’ve seen enough,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”

Talia just waves me off, her gaze fixed on the odd ritual in front of us. Whatever this is, I get the distinct idea that Talia and I aren’t supposed to be witnessing it. And I would love to honor that.

The chanting continues for a couple of minutes, then Lead Guy approaches Naked Guy and says something to him that I can’t hear. Whatever he says is swallowed by the sound of the roaring ocean.

In response to what was said, Naked Guy nods once, then turns to face the ocean, and falls to his knees. His shoulders curl forward, exposing the length of his spine, and I watch as his thin frame vibrates violently against the cold.

Lead Guy takes another step forward, his hand jutting out like a surgeon silently requesting his scalpel. Someone from the circle removes the rod from the fire and places it in Lead Guy’s outstretched hand.

My breath is held, my gaze cemented to the scene as I watch Lead Guy pull his arm back—almost like he’s doing it in slow motion. Is he going to hit the other guy with that rod? Is this actually happening right in front of me?

As Lead Guy’s arm juts forward, and the tip of the rod makes contact, Naked Guy screams out in pain, the sound echoing off the cliffs surrounding us. He’s being branded. The barbaric act is so shocking and so unexpected, that a scream is ripped from my own throat, and I lurch forward.

“Shit, Harlow!” Talia hisses, pulling me back.

I shove my hand over my mouth to silence the whimper that bubbles up from my throat. It’s too late. They see us. Every hooded figure is turned toward Talia and me, and their leader—God help us—is already crossing the sand, closing the distance between us…

HIS EYES ARE A COLD, Dark Brown. That’s the first thing I notice as the leader of this group stalks toward us, shadows from the moon playing across his masked face, half-hidden under the hood of his robe.

Intensity radiates off this guy, his large body moving with confidence across the sand. When he stops right in front of us, I gulp. He looks like a bouncer, ready to toss us out of a club.

Talia and I are standing side-by-side, but when he speaks, he looks directly at me. “Leave. Now.” His voice is muffled by the mask, but it's deep and harsh, and sends a shiver of fear down my spine. “Go back the way you came.”

I’m already half-turned, opening my mouth to tell him, “Yup, no problem, we’re already gone,” when Talia grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Hold on,” Talia says, looking over his shoulder at the other robed figures. “What are you guys doing out here?”

The guy’s jaw clenches tightly as he drags his gaze away from me and settles on Talia. Behind the mask, his eyes narrow, and if we needed evidence that we don’t belong here, there it is. Right there. That deadly stare.

“Talia,” I say, practically pleading. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t hear me, or she’s deliberately ignoring me. Either way, she steps up to Lead Guy. “If you don’t want people watching you, then you shouldn’t be doing this—” She waves wildly at the scene in front of us. “–out in public.”

“This is a private beach,” he answers through gritted teeth. “And you aren’t welcome here.”

I grab Talia's elbow firmly and dare a glance at Lead Guy. “We’re leaving.”

I don’t love the idea of taking the sidewalk all the way back to our residence hall, but it’s either that or walk straight through this creepy-ass ritual. Mmm, no thanks. Hard pass.

Talia struggles against me, but I manage to keep my grip. “You can’t tell us what to do!” she practically yells at the guy. “We’re just walking along the beach. You’re the ones doing sketchy shit.”

Oh, damn. He inadvertently triggered Talia's defiance. I’ve known her since middle school, and she’s always been strong-willed, even to her own detriment. Tell her not to jump off the bridge, and she’s going to do it just to prove she can.

Right now, though, my job is to make sure we don’t end up as the topic of a true crime episode.

“Talia,” I say firmly, yanking her in the direction we just came. She digs her heels in, but I manage to move her a little—enough to encourage me to keep pulling. “Let’s leave the nice Jedis alone.”

I hear the stranger grunt as we walk away, and I feel the weight of his gaze pressing on me until Talia and I reach the top of the berm. I release Talia and quickly make my way down the other side of the small hill, then head up the beach, toward the sidewalk. It’s a steep climb, but I make it in record time, Talia trailing behind me.

“Slow down,” she says, annoyed.

I shake my head and pick up my pace. “We shouldn’t have seen that,” I say.

“Oh, who cares, Harlow? They shouldn’t have been out in the open if whatever they’re doing is such a secret.”

I stop abruptly and turn to face her. “The beach is empty.”

I’d noticed that earlier, but I’d assumed it had something to do with the rain. Now, I wonder if people had gotten the memo that something was going down tonight, and had deliberately stayed off the beach.

Lord.

We stumbled onto something we weren’t supposed to see, and I can't help but wonder what the repercussions of that might be. None, I hope. We left, and hopefully, that’s the end of it.

But ever since the incident last year, my mind has been stuck in survival mode. It feels like everything and everyone is a potential threat. So I doubt I’ll stop worrying about this whole thing anytime soon.

It’s taken a mountain of therapy just to get me to this point–willing to leave my hometown and start over somewhere new. And, honestly, if it weren’t for Talia, that never would have happened. In my darkest moments, she was there, guiding me and encouraging me. She’s the one person in my life I can rely on.

But her impulsivity can get her into trouble, and I feel like I’m always trying to rein her in. Even when we were kids, I was saving her from herself. Trying to get her to think before she tumbled right off that proverbial bridge.

“You have to admit, that was amazing!” Talia says, clapping her hands excitedly. “Shit. I never thought we’d get to see something like that.”

I keep walking. The faster we get to the residence hall and off this dark sidewalk, the better. “A guy was getting branded. What’s amazing about that?”

“I’m pretty sure we just witnessed the initiation ceremony for the Society of the Burning Crown.” She’s walking behind me, and I don’t need to see her face to know she has a smile stretched across her face. I can hear it in her voice. “No one gets to see that. Unless you’re a member, obviously.”

I stop and turn around to face her. “That—what we just saw—was super shady. Branding, violence, anything like that is strictly against the university’s policy.”

She looks lost. “Okay, and? What does that have to do with us?”

“Are they going to be worried we’ll tell someone about it?”

Talia snorts. “You’re afraid they’re going to come after us? They aren’t the mafia, Harlow. They don’t give a shit about us.”

Secret societies are like cults in my mind—and cults can do some pretty crazy shit to keep their secrets hidden. I should know—my mom has been in a cult for the last eight years. She joined when I was eleven—just skipped right over to Florida, leaving me to live with my grandmother. That’s the kind of power these types of groups wield.

Talia grabs me. “Harlow, you’ve got to stop worrying so much.” I sigh. “I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”

Her expression softens. “I know, but everything is going to be fine. How were we supposed to know, right? We were just—” She motions casually “–walking along the beach.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

But as we walk back to the residence hall, an uneasy feeling gathers in my stomach. The whole idea behind coming to ExU was to blend in. Start over. Stay away from drama. Classes haven’t even started yet, and trouble has already rooted me out.

We get to the building fine—thank God—and I swipe my key card. I’m on the second floor, and Talia is on the third, so we part ways on the second-floor landing.

“See you tomorrow!” Talia calls out, walking up that last set of stairs to her floor. “And stop worrying!”

I just roll my eyes and open the door that leads to my floor. It’s going to be tough to fall asleep tonight—but not because I’m worrying. I know the second I lay my head down to sleep, all I’m going to see in my mind’s eye are a pair of electric brown eyes…

The next morning, I’m barely awake when my roommate, Emily, taps me on the shoulder. “Um, Harlow. Are you awake?”

My eyes are practically sealed shut—how could I be awake? Moaning, I roll over onto my side and face the wall. “No,” I say, pushing my voice through the gravel in my throat.

Last night, just as I predicted, I got zero sleep. As I lay in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, last night’s events were on repeat inside my head.

Was there something I could have done differently? Inside the safety of my thoughts, I’m always braver than I was out there on the sand—and I say something snarky and clever back to Lead Guy. It’s different every time, but he’s always taken aback by my clever response.

I finally fell asleep around five, just as sunlight started bleeding into the night sky.

But my roomie is an early riser—or so she told me yesterday. And that obviously still holds, even though classes don’t officially start for another two days.

“Okay, well, there’s a note or something here for you. I’ll just put it on your nightstand.”

A note?

I wonder if it’s from Talia. Usually, she’d just text me, but if I’m not answering then she might resort to a handwritten note.

The door clicks shut as Emily leaves, and I flip over onto my back, stretching until I feel a pleasant sting spread across my shoulders. Then I blink and pick up my phone. It’s only eight in the morning. My God. Where on earth could Emily possibly be going this early?

Sitting up, I yawn and glance at the note she left on my nightstand. It’s a black envelope with my name scrawled on the back in all caps—not Talia’s swoopy cursive. I open the envelope and pull out a piece of black cardstock. There’s a symbol on the front. It’s a crown, embossed in gold, flames erupting from the tips

.

Oh, shit.

Didn’t Talia say the society we encountered last night was called the Society of the Burning Crown?

I flip the card over.

Preference Ceremony  

Ten O’Clock  

Rush House

Uh.

I immediately text Talia with a photo of the invite, followed by a full screen of question marks.

Talia is in my room within fifteen minutes, sitting on my bed, cross-legged, looking at the invite from every possible angle. “Well, it looks legit,” she says, scratching the gold embossing.

“What’s a Preference Ceremony?” I ask.

Before arriving on campus, Talia did a ton of research about the university—history, culture, clubs, party scene…any information she could get her hands on. Maybe she ran across a website that mentioned it.

“Never heard of it,” she says, tossing the invite onto the bed next to her. She picks up her phone, types something in, then starts scrolling. “There might be something online about it.”

I do my own search on my laptop, but there’s nothing. All I can find on the Burning Crown is general information that’s been posted on a random forum dedicated to secret societies.

“Listen to this,” I say. “The Society of the Burning Crown is a secret society, founded in 1890, on the campus that is known today as Exeter University West. Rush House is the society’s headquarters and sits on the edge of the university’s 124 acres.” I turn my computer, so she can see the photo that’s been inserted between the paragraphs. It’s that creepy Victorian house on the cliff. I pull my computer back and continue reading out loud, “Little is known about the inner workings of the society, but the rumored structure is a larger membership known as the Circle, and a smaller, ruling class, known as the Omen boys. The Omens are the direct descendants of the four founding members.”

Talia scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, thinking. “Hm. Does it say anything about what a Preference Ceremony is?”

“Nope.”

She lifts her hands, slapping them back down on her knees. “Welp, I suppose we’ll just have to find out then!”

I shake my head. “No way.”

Talia frowns at me, her delicate features scrunched up and contorted. She never really looks ugly, though. She has a pert little nose, high cheekbones, and long, dark eyelashes that are 1000% real. The girls in high school always hated her for that.

She shoves her bottom lip out in a pout. “Oh, come on, why not? It’ll be an adventure.”

“Yesterday, that guy was pissed that we’d stumbled on their…whatever that was. Then this morning, they slid an invite under my door?” I press my lips together. “If that’s not weird, then I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe they just want to make amends,” Talia offers. “You said yourself that they might be afraid we’ll tell someone. So maybe this is their way of, I don’t know, smoothing things over.”

I pick up the envelope that the note came in, reading my name over and over, almost as if I stare at it long enough, it’ll give up its author’s secrets. It just makes me more uneasy, though, if anything.

“How do they even know my name? And why just give me an invite?”

My tone is rising, and Talia must sense how tense I’m getting. She knows the year I’ve had, and how desperately I just want to have a normal freshman experience. Quiet. Boring. No drama.

She reaches over and places a hand on my arm. “Harlow, it’s okay. Societies like this have their hand in everything, and if someone steps foot on their campus, they usually know about it. It’s not personal to you.” She shrugs. “And you probably got the invite because you’re closer to the building entrance. Why bother sending two invites when they know we’re together?”

It’s a paper-thin theory and doesn’t even make sense, but I cling to it because believing there’s a deeper meaning would seriously threaten my mental health. And the whole idea behind starting over is not over-analyzing every little thing. Or so my therapist, Dr. Cunningham, says.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re not going.” I snatch the invite up off the bed and rip it in two.

Talia lunges at me, her green eyes wide with horror. “Harlow, what the fuck?” She grabs the two pieces from my hands and tries to fit them back together. “We have to go. No one gets invited to these things. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

I lean back against my pillows. “You know how I feel about cults, Talia. Don’t ask me to do this.”

“It’s not a cult. It’s a secret society. There’s a big difference.”

I push out a sigh. “That’s disputable.”

I know her, though. If Talia wants to do something, she’ll do it, no matter what I say. And I can’t let her go to something like that alone—it’s way too sketchy.

“Maybe they want to apologize for last night? And if we don’t go, then they might see that as an insult.”

I make a face. “Apologize? The guy from last night didn’t look sorry. He looked pissed.”

“Okay, let’s compromise. We’ll go, see what they want, and if there’s anything shady happening, then we’ll leave. Easy. No stress.”

No stress. I practically snort at that. I’m already stressed.

I think about it for a second, then take the invite from her hands, shoving both pieces into the black envelope. “Fine, we’ll go under two conditions.”

“Okay, shoot,” she says, and I can already see she wants to squeal with excitement.

“One: we find out what they want, then leave.” I hold a finger in the air before she can respond. “Two: if they even hint at trying to recruit us, we bail right then and there.” Talia opens her mouth to argue, but I stop her. “Ah! We leave immediately.”

She deflates a little, but I think she knows this is the only way I’ll do it. And the envelope has my name on it, which gives me a little leverage. She could try to go without me, but there’s a chance they’d turn her away at the door.

Talia leans back. “Fine. Deal.”

I nod, satisfied. But deep down, I have a sinking feeling there’s more to all of this than a simple apology. Something much darker…

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay I figured it out !!! what if y/n is a F1 driver and she’s really close with Charles or lando and is with either Pablo , Fermin , or pedri and they get jealous of how close y/n and Charles or lando are !! And they get into an argument before the Barcelona GP and y/n thinks they won’t be there to see them race but in the end they do go and see y/n get a home podium and they make up !!

surprises in Barcelona / Pedri González

Summary: Pedri x Spanish!F1 driver!girlfriend!reader - When Y/n is in a job in which she's surrounded by nineteen male, handsome hot shots nearly all near long, it's easy for her boyfriend to get a bit jealous.

Warnings: censored cuss, arguing in a relationship, screaming, communication cut off for a while

Requested?: Yes! <3

Author's Note: OMG I LOVE IT. It's kind of funny, because I have an OC much like the reader in this story, so to be honest, that's just what I imagined while writing this.

It all starts with a stupid, petty comment.

Pedri is to the point of practically begging you for some time together, since his schedule is free. But yours isn't. You tried to explain so many times that even though you're back home in Barcelona, and not in the UK, that doesn't mean you don't have work to do before the next race here in Barcelona.

Maybe you're being a bit harsh. Maybe you should sit down with your boyfriend and snuggle him a bit. Let him have you, just for a moment, just for a short break in both of your glittery sporting lives.

But if you were starting to change your mind at all, or feeling any sympathy in the slightest, it's suddenly squashed when that stupid comment comes out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've got a lot of work to do. Since you clearly care about your teammate more than your own boyfriend."

Your head snaps to look at him. "Excuse me? What teammate?"

His thick, dark eyebrows knit together as he comments, crossing his arms. "You know. Your teammate. The one you constantly talk about, and joke around with? You're practically flirting by now."

This is coming as a shocker to you. This is the first time Pedri's ever voiced thoughts such as these. But you clench your jaw. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea why you feel the need to bring Lando into this-"

"Because you're putting him over me! And your job! And your team!"

"No I'm not!" you snap, then taunt a bit, "Oh, is someone getting jealous?"

"I have the right to!" Pedri is starting to get angrier, and his body straightens more. "I see how you nudge him, and hug him after good performances-"

"Everyone does that! I'm not getting mad at you for hugging your teammates after a goal is scored, am I?"

"No, but that's different!"

"In what way? Just because I'm a woman?" your lip curls in annoyance. "So I'm not allowed to have sportsmanship and camaraderie with my team, just because of my gender? Just because my teammate is a man, and I'm a woman? Give me a f*cking break!"

Pedri stands up, his face reddening, and now his voice is raised as he snaps back, "It's not that! It's that you're doing all that, and not giving me any attention! You spend more time with Norris these days than you do with me!"

"It's because he's amongst me in my job! I can't really avoid him!"

"Maybe you should try separating your job from your personal life and show me some love for once! Give me back some of the energy I give to you!" he suddenly screams.

There's a few seconds of silence, but your heart feels cold as you respond, "So I'm not allowed to have friends, then? I have to give my everything to you, and only you? Well, at least Lando doesn't expect anything more from me than what I can give."

"Yeah, and that's because you're giving him so much! Why don't you consider me?"

"Why don't you consider me?" you suddenly yell, before slamming the door of his flat shut and leaving, your head spinning with irrational thoughts.

Lando isn't just your teammate. He's also your friend. And a good friend, at that. But you figure it's hard for anyone who really knows Lando not to like him.

Now he catches you in the McLaren garage, before the first practice session of the Barcelona Grand Prix weekend. It's been a week since the argument with Pedri, and over that week, your conscience has been killing you. You tried to text him twice, but didn't get a response, and you're too nervous to call, because you don't want to face the fact that he could just decide not to pick up.

But your heart and head are aching, and clearly it shows on your face, because suddenly you feel a friendly slap on your back as Lando says, "It's your home race weekend, Y/n. Look a bit more alive!"

You shrug and force a smile. "I know. Just got some things on my mind."

"Something bad happen?" he inquires, his eyebrow cocking up a bit.

"Not really," you shrug.

As if reading your mind, Lando asks, "Will your boyfriend be able to make it this weekend?"

This question makes your head swarm.

Will he? I mean, if he's ignoring me now, why would he bother to come to the Grand Prix?

Maybe he's too busy for me, like I was for him.

You swallow as you feel a pang of guilt deep in your chest.

"Uh, I don't know... I don't think so," you say, clearing your throat.

Lando continues looking at you expectantly with big eyes, as if thinking you're going to elaborate on that. But when you don't he says with a little frown, "Well, why not? He lives in Barcelona." Lando is, obviously, aware of which famous football player is your boyfriend.

You shrug a little. "It's a long story, to be honest. But I'm fine, Lando. Don't worry. Besides, I think the best thing right now is to just focus on racing, you know?"

Lando nods slowly, not seeming fully convinced, but says, "Alright, then. Whatever you think."

You nod as he gives you another reassuring slap on the back and walks on.

You sigh.

Just have to switch my brain off into racing mode. See all those Spanish fans cheering me on.

I've got all of McLaren, including Lando, backing me.

And I've got all of Spain, except for maybe Pedri González, my own boyfriend, backing me, too.

When you get into that car, it's like the world stops moving. In all three practices, and then in qualifying. There's no worrying about jealousy, relationships, or public image. All there is is you, the car, the speed, and the other cars you, ultimately, need to beat.

All there is is the wind, the throttle, the limits you're pushing to break past.

The speed.

It's why you love racing.

You finish qualifying in fourth, and when Lando sees you in the garage, he gives you a high five and a friendly half-hug before saying, "Starting 3-4 for the race. Good job."

You smile and nod. "Thanks. You know how it is, though." You can tell he's just trying to cheer you up. He's not actually this estatic about starting in third and fourth.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods, putting on his cap. "But, hey." He makes eye contact with you. "Maybe your boy will show up for the race, at least?"

You shrug, looking down and respond simply, "Maybe." You doubt it.

You're sure you'll make it up. The next time you see him, you'll fix everything. Apologize, and explain.

It just kind of sucks that this had to all go down right before one of the few races on the calendar that Pedri can actually make it to. Your home race.

Before the race, you text Pedri.

It's left on sent, just like the other two.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" you demand to Lando, who is basically walking around the paddock like a smug little contained jar of sunshine and rainbow, being cheeky because clearly he knows something no one else does.

You know the bratty look in his eyes.

He seems to find a ridiculous amount of pleasure in this question from you as he comments, his voice drawn out in a sing-song tone, "Nothing..."

You roll your eyes and tease, "What, some cute girl asked you out? Or, what, you heard Red Bull talking about some kind of terrible problem with their car? Or, what, you overheard the full and complete ultimate strategy of Ferrari in order to take us down?"

Lando's grin grows. "All of those things would be pretty great, but unfortunately, none of them are true. Simply, nothing at all is different," he comments, like the complete and utter dork he is.

How could Pedri ever think I'd chose this loser over him? you ask yourself in rueful disbelief.

"Alright, then don't tell me!" you say with a shrug, showing you really aren't going to waste any more energy with him.

"Good, because otherwise I might slip the secret!"

At this, your eyebrows furrow, but when you glance back at Lando, he waves his hand and adds, "You'll figure it out soon enough."

For a while, you ponder on what Lando could have been talking about, but soon you're putting on your helmet, and forgetting everything.

Because you have a chance to podium at your home race, and you intend to do it.

So you pull out on track. Drive the formation lap, entering the zone, letting everything but racing slip from your mind.

Feeling the pounding of your heart and the pulsing adreniline.

And then, before you know it, it's-

Lights out, and away we go!

"So, what place is that, then?" you question over the radio in the last lap.

"Uh, that's P2, Y/n. P2," comes the response back.

It hits you. "What? I didn't even know!" you laugh high, actually so shocked. "When did that happen?"

You hear your engineer laugh and say, "Do you want the whole run down of the race right now, or later?"

You laugh to yourself as you see the chequered flag waving ahead. "And Lando?"

"Uh, Lando go P3," answers your engineer.

"Wait, really? No way! Oh, yeah, I guess so, if I got P2!"

"Well, I'm starting to doubt you even drove the race, but if you did- great job today. That's a double podium for the team and some great points. Enjoy the podium."

You laugh to yourself and say, "I could only do it because of all the home fans cheering me on. The crowd is great!"

"Oh, and that's driver of the day, too."

"Yes! Vamos, baby. Great job, everyone, and thanks to everyone who voted for me."

When you get out of the car and flip up your visor, your heart is already pounding in your chest. Lando high fives you, and then gestures to the McLaren team, ready to greet their two drivers at the finish line.

But you can see the cheeky grin still lingering from before in Lando's eyes, and now you can see exactly why.

"Pedri?!" you scream with a (quite terrible) voice crack. Immediately you run to him, and he grabs you, taking you into his arms as you feel a couple hands from your teammates patting your shoulders and helmet in congratulations.

Pedri kisses your helmet, right where the little Spanish flag on it is. He's grinning, and says, right to you, "I'm so proud of you. And I'm sorry- I wanted it to be a surprise."

You grin and respond, "We can talk stuff over right now. Right now, I've got champagne to spray, no?"

Pedri grins back and nods in agreement. "Go for it."

In the cool down room, you corner Lando and snap, "So that's what you were being so smug about! Had you seen Pedri before the race?"

Lando grins and nods, sitting down in Max's P1 chair, not caring. "Yeah. He told me not to tell you about him being there. A surprise."

"He can speak enough English to tell you that?" You've, obviously, always just spoken to him in Spanish.

Lando chuckles and says, "Well, enough."

On the podium, when you pop the champagne, you spray it at Lando, and Lando sprays it back at you and Max. Adreniline and joy fills you as you then take a swig from the bottle and rub the stinging champagne from your eyes, feeling the wetness of it all over you.

Once you've gotten off the podium and are back in the garage, you spot Pedri, and immediately run to him. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek, and say right away, "I'm so sorry, Pedri."

He hugs you back, but doesn't respond.

"I've been feeling so terrible about what happened all week... And then with the silent treatment, too..." You sigh. "I should have given you some time. I could have spared even fifteen minutes, and it would have been good for both of us. I was such an idiot, putting my own thing above you. And even if I had so much to do I couldn't spare some time for you, it was things I could still work on with you. I'm sorry. I was just being a petty idiot, and there's no reason for it."

Pedri hugs you tighter, and as you speak, it feels like there's a weight being lifted off your chest. But now it's Pedri's turn to let off the weight on his chest. "It's okay... I... I forgive you. Thank you. But I was an idiot, too. It's just... I know Norris is your friend, and I don't want you to stop having friends. It just hurts when I know you see him more than you see me. But I shouldn't have even implied you would intentionally put him over me. I'm just... It's hard not to get jealous, but I need to get better. Just... it'd be nice if you... well... if you can help it, don't constantly be hugging him and stuff, you know? But over all, I was an ass, and I'm sorry. I just took my jealousy and anger out when you said you were too busy- That was wrong of me. I'm sorry for not responding to your texts, too... The first few days, I was still too stuck in my thoughts to, but then I had the idea to surprise you at the Grand Prix, and... Well, were you surprised to see me?"

You smile softly, wholeheartedly accepting his apology and understanding his point of view much more after having a week of thinking and stressing over what had happened. But now you respond, "I was perfectly surprised. I'm so glad you came, Pedri, to see me..." Now you're beaming at him.

He grins back, stroking your cheek. "I'd never, ever miss my amazing racing girlfriend's home race!"

"I know, but..."

He comments, "It was an amazing drive. For you and Norris."

"Oh, quit calling him 'Norris'! He's my friend, which means he's yours, too, whether you like it or not!"

Pedri chuckles but accepts it. "Alright, alright. But now- am I allowed to treat Miss P2 to something sweet?"

"What do you have in mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks and says with a wink, "It's a surprise. Are you okay with a second one for today?"

You laugh a little, but nod. "I don' know if anything could be better than simply the surprise of seeing your handsome face, but I suppose another surprise would be good."

"Alright, good. But first-" he leans in closer and says softer, "Don't I get a kiss from my little winner?"

You roll your eyes and say, "I'm neither little or a winner, not today."

"Ah, but you're little compared to me," he comments, referring to you being shorter than him, "and you've certainly won my heart."

"Ah, you're so cliché!" you snap, but lean in, cupping his cheeks, and give him a passionate post-race kiss.

[cherriegyuu]

midnight regrets | bsk

pairing: seungkwan x f!reader genre: angsty kinda? but also fluff maybe? (drunk confession) word count: 848

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

Seungkwan ➝ Death By a Thousand Cuts I get drunk, but it's not enough ’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby ↳ in which Seungkwan drunk calls you, his ex, and finally tells you all the feelings he kept to himself for months.

The clock on your phone told you it was just past four in the morning. Your insomnia had gotten to you yet again and this time it seemed like it had decided to stay. You did everything you were supposed to, ate better, avoided certain smells and foods that could trigger a migraine that could cause insomnia, but none of it seemed to matter. 

In the last couple of days, you only managed to get a total of 5 hours of sleep. It was a wonder in itself that your brain still functioned, poorly of course. 

With a groan, you turned on your side. You just wanted to sleep, like a normal person, for a few hours. Was that really too much to ask? 

Your phone started to vibrate on your bedside, the blue light suddenly pulling the room out of its complete darkness. No one in their right mind would call you in the middle of the night. Not because you would get angry at them but because no one calls anyone at four in the morning. 

Even if the number calling you wasn't saved a contact, it was one you remembered all too well. It was impossible to make your heart stay calm, to keep quiet. But your brain was telling you that there was something wrong. 

It had been almost six months since you and Seungkwan broke up. After the final words had been said, you never saw him again. You returned his things to Vernon and he had left yours with your doorman. You stopped following him on social media and deleted his number. 

The breakup hadn't been bad, per se. When you finally got down to it, you simply realized that you wanted things that Seungkwan didn't seem willing to give to you. 

When you told him that you wanted to break up his only words were "If that's what you really want, I won't do anything to stop you from leaving"

It hurt so much because you felt like he didn't care at all about you and it was clear that your relationship had come to an end way before you finally decided it was time to. 

Truthfully, you were still healing and you knew that taking that call was probably a bad idea. But what if something was wrong? What if he was in some kind of trouble?

After taking a deep breath, you accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"You weren't supposed to take the call," he said with a whine, words slurred.

You settled back against the pillows, relief flooding your body. Nothing was wrong, Seungkwan was just drunk. 

"Was I not? But you called" 

"But you shouldn't have" 

You could see him pout, eyes closed, and furrowed eyebrows. You couldn't hold back the smile that spread on your lips. 

"Why did you call, Seungkwan?"

There was a pause and a sigh. 

Seungkwan always looked cute when drunk, though all of his friends would disagree with you. It was easy to hear to distinguish Vernon's voice saying he called yn and Chan's oh he's drunk drunk.

"I miss you so much" he cried "Did you know that? Every single day I wake up and you're the first person I think about. Sometimes something happens and it's so trivial but I want to call you and tell you about it. And sometimes I wonder where we went wrong and I know isn't an us problem, it was a me problem. It wasn't you because you weren’t perfect for me but I wasn't perfect for you. And I…"

You covered your mouth as if it would be enough to suppress the sound of your small sobs.

"I didn't want perfection, Seungkwan. All I wanted was you"

He whined again, a cry left his mouth and you swear that he fell because the next you heard was Chan's exasperated dude, be careful. 

"I should have said something that day but your words hurt me, so I let my pride take over. I should have asked you why, at least. I do know why but maybe if I asked I would have come up with some sort of argument. And then you returned my things to Vernon because you didn't even want to see me. And you unfollowed me everywhere and I bet you deleted my number. Because you always said hi baby, when I called or Seungkwan? if you were worried. I miss you so much and I love you so much. I want to try again, can you give me another chance? Hm?"

Seungkwan wasn't the kind of drunk who couldn't talk, who was hard to understand. His words got a little slurred and he talked a little bit slower but you could understand every single one of them. His desperation was obvious.

"You're all I ever wanted. I'm sorry I can't say it sober"

You closed your eyes. Maybe you would regret your words but you still wanted to try, even if you and Seungkwan were destined to fail.

“If when you wake up you still feel the same way, we can”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag , @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog, @k-drama-adict

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[writing-with-moss]

Safehouse…pt. 1!

TW- cursing

CW- this is my OC Rory ‘Valkyrie’ O’Connor (I have a character sheet for her posted up which you can find on my pinned post)

this is my first fan fiction so pls don’t be super judgy!

You felt exhausted, the weight of your tac gear and the days fuckery heavy on your body.

the safehouse was small. One bedroom, one couch, a radio positioned on a tiny shelf by a tiny window that let the small amount of moonlight into the room. Food. Water. Shelter. What you needed to camp out for the night. And there, in the center of it all, was him.

it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission, simple, easy, key word- quick. But it wasn’t, and you were chased down to the safe house. With Simon fucking Ghost Riley.

Simon. Where do you even start? You can’t deny the feelings you get when you stare at him. You’re a levelheaded mature soldier, but that doesn’t stop you from getting lonely. Far from it. And maybe you do like the small peeks of skin from under his mask and his rough voice and his calm nature. Soap makes you relaxed and Gaz and you have comfortable mature conversations and Price is like a dad but the feelings you have for Simon are far from platonic. And he didn’t even know it.

he turned slightly, meeting your eyes. The tension in the air was thick, you could practically feel it in the back of your throat.

“…you should get some rest. You have bags under your eyes Val.” His rough voice mumbles to you. His accent making you slightly weak in the knees.

“you need sleep too.” You retort. You don’t know why you don’t just shut up and take the bed and finally rest. But maybe staying up with him is better than that. “You need sleep as much as I do.” You take a weary step forward.

“You’re right. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m smaller. I can fit on the couch better than you can.” You point out. And it was true. He was bigger, much bigger than you. You weren’t a small woman 5’8” muscled and curvy. But he had to have at least 50 pounds and a half a foot on you. you see his shoulders slump. He’s too tired to argue, which you don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Fine. Sleep on the couch.” his body, shuffled to the back of the Safehouse, stripping slowly out of his tac gear.

you immediately look away, you don’t know why you’re acting so shy. You’ve seen him naked before, you’ve seen everyone on the task force naked before. He’s seen you that way too so why are your cheeks so flushed and-

“why so prudish Val?” You can practically hear the smirk on his lips.

“I’m not being prudish, I’m being modest. And giving you privacy.” You quickly snap back, stuffing down your feelings and undoing the front of your tac gear.

“Whatever you say.”

you think for a moment and mumble. “And don’t call me Val, just…call me Rory. We aren’t all professional right now.”

“Rory.” The way he says your name makes your cheeks burn up. The way he rolls the R’s on his tongue, testing how your name feels in his mouth. “Rory. Cute name. Thought it was for boys though?”

“short for aurora, but I hate aurora. So it’s Rory.” You drop your gear down, leaving you in your t-shirt and pants. You can feel his eyes trace your hips.

He moves towards you, and you finally glance back. You’ve seen him without his mask on before, but it still makes you breathe a little heavy. His face is masculine, eyebrows well built and thick, his jaw prominent and his lips a little thin. His eyes were set a little deep into his face, a nice rich brown color. His skin littered with tiny scars and the remnants of eye black in the creases of his skin. His blonde hair fell in straight strands, cut into a sharp military style haircut.

you felt your heart pump, beating wildly against your rib cage. His eyes searching your green ones. You were itching to touch his face but restrained, thinking it was too forward.

you don’t know what prompted you to say it, but it kind of just tumbled out of your mouth. “Is it just me or do we have a lot of tension?”

‘And touching his face was too forward? You’re an idiot Rory!’

you felt stupid when you saw his slightly taken aback expression, well, until a rare smile cracked on his lips. “Yeah….I guess we do.” He admits, sitting back on the back of the couch. “It’s what we’re gonna do with it that’s really what matters.” He points out and he’s valid for it.

what are you gonna do with all this tension?

—————————End of Pt. 1—————————-

[deathsbestgirl]

So Never Again. Just saw this post and the way she looks up at him there is on a level with Mulder’s famous Fallen Angel eyes and his reaction to her? He doesn't melt? He chooses violence and being a dick? Please tell me why.

i LOVE this question because it is so easy to see it from scully's perspective. it's her episode. but you really have to think about mulder's perspective.

for mulder, this seems out of nowhere, and in his mind she was extremely inattentive with his informant on a case he's taking seriously. he doesn't understand what she's really asking or what the problem is, and a big part of that is she doesn't exactly either. it's almost like she's blaming him for the stand still in her life, but at the same time wants to be seen & appreciated (in a way that she understands, can feel, can see). and i don't think she could have figured it out the way she needed to with mulder. she needed the safety of talking to a stranger, someone inconsequential to her life. (like there's no way she could have that "other fathers" conversation with him lol) so ed jerse is the one to give her that. (she does with ed what she can't yet do with mulder. something neither of them are ready for and she isn't brave enough to do yet. and like. idk i just think she needed this! regardless of mulder lol)

like: "this isn't about you. or maybe it is, indirectly. i don't know." the one thing she got right is "i don't know" lol so of course mulder is confused!!

if you place leonard betts first, she's contemplating what she's leaving behind. has she had any impact working on the x files? on mulder? who is going to remember her? what evidence of her life will be left? in that office...it looks like she's had very little effect. (but i do not subscribe to this one.)

if never again is first, which i like better lollll (it makes more sense to me. i understand why people like lb first, it's more clear cut. it puts a reason behind her behavior. but i just don't think it quite fits. scully literally doesn't know what's wrong. if she was already worried about cancer, i think it would come across differently. but she's frustrated & confused and she wants for something she can't admit, express, pinpoint, articulate? idk what word i'm looking for lol) scully's just hit that point in her pattern again, her cycle...it took her four years, and after some rough cases (paper hearts – she couldn't help mulder despite how she tried, el mundo gira – a dead end. and idk, so many of their cases. and she's always wrong, he always does the crazy thing, he's always hurt)...well anyway, at the end he's still asking "all because i didn't get you a desk?" he still isn't quite understanding, until she says it's her life and he almost says "yes but it's become mine." he doesn't say it, they sit in silence, and in leonard betts, he tells her she did a good job & should be proud. all his little jokes like he's trying to make her laugh, to get back to their usual banter. because he wants to make her smile. so he understood at least a little by leonard betts. but they also come to a silent understanding. i just love the way kae talks about it. and i think the end is kind of the explanation for the beginning. the end is the real answer to the whole episode, and what it took to get there...and this post here, kae just understands him and talks about him in a way that i feel. it's exactly what i see in a way i could never articulate. (and she does my favorite thing!!! connects different moments. the characterization is so good.) and she has such a special insight to both of them, different patterns, but to me two sides of the same coin.

and so, either way, at the beginning of never again, he's completely thrown because he doesn't know. this is when their bad verbal communication and personal issues/insecurities/fears take hold. they're both so good at taking too much responsibility.

we're seeing into scully's mind a bit, but we aren't really seeing into his. but he's afraid, he doesn't want her to leave (something he's feared for a long time), he thinks space is the answer to whatever's going on. but he's also kinda needy and he can't just say that. so he calls her and they misunderstand each other again and she makes a date. he isn't trying to be an ass but he's scared & defensive, and he gets like that when she makes him nervous. like whenever she believes (beyond the sea, revelations, all souls, en ami). it feels like that to me. he's afraid, but this time he thinks he's the problem, their work is the problem. and he kinda said the worst thing he could say to her at that moment. "you were just assigned" — he has no idea how she understood that, how it hurts her. (and she's not thinking about how he means it, what he thinks/feels/fears.) and really, it's because she sucks at just saying the thing as much as he does. it takes them a long time to work out their direct communication. their unspoken communication, the way they work on their cases doesn't translate to their personal relationship. as intimate as their partnership is, working through their own issues takes time and it's those things that hinder them moving forward for so long. ya know?

i think @randomfoggytiger talks about it beautifully here — in depth essay on never again. here they touch on mulder's fear/walls & scully's insecurities/needs. it's a journey!! which they talk about here. and i forget what this one was (lol) but i'm sure i saved it for a reason: a little master post. i love the way foggy breaks things down, especially visually. it's something i could never do.

i also reblogged some other never again posts. not completely on topic but it's all connected!! (you can definitely go through my never again tag to see more probably too!)

[nyoomfruits]

5. What's a fic idea you've had that you will never write? for the ask game? Thanks!

oooh i've had so many but i think The One That Got Away is the lestappen roommates/engineers au that was going to be enemies to friend to one night stant to enemies to friends to lovers over the span of like a ten year period.

(below the cut because this got LONG)

BASICALLY non driver au. charles and max are both studying engineering both with the ambition to become engineers for A formula one team. for charles it Has To Be ferrari. max will take whatever team will have him (there's an ongoing joke that his Ultimate Dream is to work for Haas because they gave him a free cap at some kind of industry event and he's been wearing that ever since. mostly out of convenience)

charles and max have a bit of a meet ugly on their first day and become Instant Enemies and then very shortly after also roommates because charles needed a space and a friend of a friend (lando) offered and so now he's sharing an appartment with lando and max. they DO NOT get along for the first few months, but then utlimately discover they're much better off working together instead of against each other and through shared study sessions and late nights actually become friends.

and by friends i mean BESTIES. these dudes spend the rest of their college days bascially living in each other pockets doing a very weird will they wont they

BUT THEN year four rolls around and max gets an internship at red bull and moves to milton keynes for the year. they have a stupid one night stand right before he leaves because they’re both emotional and stuff about having to say goodbye but the next morning max nearly oversleeps for his flight and so they don’t have time to talk about it. charles thinks maybe he should wait until max gets back because this feels too much of an Important Conversation to do over the phone, and so they Don’t Talk About It. which makes max think charles doesn’t want him, something he is very clearly upset about, and then to drown his sorrows he’s starts dating daniel who also works at red bull and is nice and sweet and like. actually wants him at least.

charles hears about it and is obviously upset because WOW max moved on fast. so when max gets back they get into a MASSIVE fight about it that doesn’t really get resolved. eventually max leaves and charles gets a job offer for ferrari and that’s the end of that

FAST FORWARD THREE YEARS for the second part of the fic which entirely takes place in the f1 paddock.

basically charles has been holding some kind of factory position at ferrari this whole time while max actually managed to get a job in the red bull garage as one of the youngest engineers ever. BUT THEN charles gets a job offer. for race engineer.

at red bull.

anyway its this whole thing of being able to do the one thing he really wants to do but not for the team he really wants to do it for plus theres a chance he runs into max and GOD does he really want that???

the answer is yes. yes he does.

and Max and him. Do NOT get along. they fight constantly and its showing in the way the car dnfs in both of the first races. eventually after the third race Christian summons them into his office and tells them to get their fucking shit together or else. so they talk and decide on a truce

anyway after that they’re sort of friendly now and they fall back into that easy rhythm they used to have back when they were roommates

and like. they’re a literal DREAM TEAM. the car is a fucking ROCKETSHIP in their hands. they actually make newey cry happy tears at some point etc etc.

charles is happy and its fine and then they win the constructors championship breaking mercedes winning streak and they’re celebrating and max falls into his arms and buries his face in charles’s neck and oh no.

oh no

turns out he’s not over that then.

but thats the end of the season and nothing really happens and then when the new season rolls around they pine for a while like they used to back in college lmao

and then max gets a job offer with another team

Charles hears about it through the grape vine, goes to confront him about it and he’s like “don’t you DARE leave me again we JUST found each other again” doing this whole speech basically yelling at max and max just. kisses him.

but then that upsets charles even MORE because he’s like “fuck YOU I cant do another goodbye fuck that’s not. NO. fuck you” and max is like “this is not a goodbye fuck, because I’m not leaving.”

and then charles frowns like “why not. It’s a good job offer”

“charles you’re giving me fucking WHIPLASH here do you want me to leave or not”

“I want you to tell me WHY”

“because I’m in love with you you idiot!!!!!!”

anyway they kiss about it its all very cute The End

so yeah. there's a 4k planning doc for this. there's a title. there's a PLAYLIST. yet i'm like 99% sure it will never get written. truly The One That Got Away

[abarbaricyalp]

If you can combo 5,6, 30 intimacy for Sam and Bucky... Thank you

5: holding hands, kissing the back of it 6: kissing the tip of their nose 30: being protective Not gonna lie, I had difficulty imagining them being in a situation where they'd be kissing each other's hands and noses while also needing to be protective 😅 I know this is probably not what you had in mind, but it would not leave my mind.

All things considered, a cave behind a waterfall was pretty damn romantic. Bucky had found the cave. The dinosaurs they were hiding from, were not his fault. He should get all the points for the romanticism and lose nothing for the dinosaurs.

"Let me see your hand," he said, scooting closer to where Sam was washing his hand off in the waterfall. They should stay away from it. Who knew what kind of vision dinosaurs had. Sure, he'd been obsessed with them as kids, but he was pretty sure dinosaurs were one of those things that books in the 20s had been wrong about.

Sam held out his hand without complaint, which was a small miracle. "I cut it while we were climbing," he explained. He sucked in a sharp breath as Bucky put his thumbs on either side of the gash in his palm. "It's pretty deep."

Bucky nodded in agreement. For the first time in this whole forsaken night, the fact that they weren't in battle gear was actually helpful. He tore off the hem of his shirt and tied it around the middle of Sam's hand. It was not remotely sterile, but he couldn't really do anything about that. This would at least keep him from bleeding so badly and maybe keep dirt from getting in easily.

Sam stared at his hand, cupped gently in both of Bucky's and then let out a short laugh. "Oh my God, we look like a stupid action movie."

Bucky thought they looked like stupid action movies pretty regularly, but he figured Sam meant an action adventure movie. One of those ones with jungles and cargo crates and giant monsters, ancient runes and lost cities. Impossible feats of strength, like jumping over a ratty bridge or climbing up the side of a ship in the middle of a storm or hanging out of the blown out window of a two-seater plane. Probably based on a video game or some other existing IP.

"Those don't usually start in the middle of dinner at a local pasta place," Bucky pointed out. "We didn't even get our second glass of wine."

"It was good wine. Congrats on recognizing that. I'll make you a cultured man in no time." Sam started to pull his hand back, started to make to get to his feet.

Bucky curled his fingers around Sam's, up high, away from the cut. Sam settled back on the rocky ground with a raised eyebrow. "We can't wait around for someone to throw another temporal displacement bomb at us, Buck," he pointed out. "We've gotta figure out a way out of here."

"I know," Bucky accepted, though he kind of didn't think it'd be that easy. Without any reinforcements, without any gear of their own, what the hell were they going to do? Use their cells to call for help? He doubted that even the Kimoyo beads could traverse millions of years. And no one knew where they were, or were expecting them some other place. They wouldn't be missed until something else exploded or they missed the next call-out. It had been a long time since Bucky had felt helpless--he could force his body to extremes unheard of to survive, to protect Sam--but being chased by a dinosaur he couldn't name through forest growth so dense and thick and large the sun didn't reach the ground and then being forced to climb a cliff face so new every rock was rough and unpolished had just about wrung out the hope from him.

"I just..." He hesitated for a second, then brought Sam's hand up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss over the bandage on his palm, then turned Sam's hand over to kiss his scrapped up knuckles. "Just wanna make sure you're okay before we get back to adventuring."

Sam's face softened. He put his other hand to Bucky's cheek, thumb brushing over the crooked prop of it midway down where he'd been hit by a falling rock earlier. "I'm okay, Buck. Eventually, we'll have to add lizards to our list."

"What list?" Bucky asked, shaken from his deepening, pooling panic. Back to the world of a beautiful waterfall and dappled sunlight just for a second.

"Androids, aliens, and wizards."

The force with which Bucky rolled his eyes was enough to skyrocket the blooming headache snaking through his brain. "You can't say wizards and lizards in the same stupid catchphrase."

"Sure I can," Sam scoffed. "We're fighting morons who call themselves the Serpent Society. I think we need to add lizards."

"Just accept that you and I do not fight wizards that often," Bucky insisted.

"We fight wizards plenty."

"When, Sam? When do we ever fight wizards?"

"Loki," Sam said.

"Loki is a god. Apparently. And neither us ever fought him."

Sam reached over then, hands on either side of Bucky's face, and realigned his nose with an audible crack of cartilage snapping back into place.

Bucky had been led to believe by countless sci-fi books and his favorite modern movie that dinosaurs hunted by sound because their eyesight was bad. This was the only reason he did not howl with indignant pain and anger. He smacked his hands up against his own face--which did not make anything feel better--and glared at Sam--the effect of which was lessened by the tears that had naturally sprung to his eyes.

"Asshole," he ground out. "I told you it would set itself. The serum always puts things back where they belong."

"I couldn't stand looking at it anymore," Sam defended. "And it was making your voice sound weird. Move your hands." He batted Bucky's hands away and examined the line of his nose, then the full effect of his face. "Right as rain. Stop being a baby." He leaned forward and kissed either side of Bucky's nose, then the bruised bridge of it, then brushed the tip of his nose against Bucky's in apology.

Fine, that was enough to sate Bucky. He brushed his nose against Sam's again before leaning back against the cave wall. "How are we gonna get out of this one, Sam?" he asked.

Sam adjusted to sit beside him, grimacing as rough rock bit into his shoulders and back. "I don't know. Do you think the temporal imbalance will still be where we came in at? It disrupts the fabric of time and reality, right?"

"I don't think anything at all about this shit. I just call Strange and tune him out when he gets bitchy."

"So, all the time," Sam surmised with a tired, but affectionate, grin.

"Yeah, kind of," Bucky admitted. He dropped his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him closer. "Do you know anything about dinosaurs?"

"Not really," Sam admitted himself. "I missed both boys' dinosaur phases."

"Do you think they're, like, diurnal?" Bucky ventured.

"No idea. There had to have been some nocturnal ones, right?"

"Yeah, but probably not the big ones."

Sam's eyebrows rose in thought. "They're all big, but I guess that kind of makes sense. So, what did you have on you for our date night?"

Bucky looked at Sam with a little bit of an abashed look. "Don't make it sound like I wore a tac belt," he muttered. "I just have a few knives. Didn't even have a gun in my jacket. Wherever that is now. I don't think a handful of combat knives are going to help us out here."

Sam had retrieved his own knife and flipped it around in his fingers. Each time the sharp side passed over the pads, it made an low scratching sound. Sam didn't need Bucky to tell him to take care of his shit and clearly he did it well. It still wasn't going to help.

"The only thing we can try is looking for that temporal weakness," Sam decided. "And the longer we wait, the more likely it is to close."

"I'm gonna tell Torres you had no faith in his ability to find us," Bucky threatened emptily.

"I don't think he'd blame me," Sam assured. He stood, then offered his hand down to Bucky to haul him up. "Hopefully we'll be able to tell when something big is coming at us. We didn't recognize the sound last time because we weren't prepared. Now we know what we're up against."

Bucky nodded. "Stay close to me, alright? Vibranium is still stronger than dinosaur teeth."

"Your arm is the size of their toothpicks, Buck," Sam pointed out, but he let Bucky take the lead.

Bucky half expected something to be waiting for them as they came through the water. They had to get into it to get back to the cliff face and all he did was hope there was nothing flesh eating in the water. Large or otherwise.

But there was nothing waiting for them and nothing eating them. A win all around.

The water helped wash away some of the grime and blood though, which was nice. Bucky had no idea if dinosaurs had acute olfactory systems, but he imagined smelling like the landscape and not unknown human should help. Besides, he thought better when he wasn't disgusting.

The climb down was a different kind of difficult from the climb up. Gravity was useful, but neither of them could see what they were doing and Sam kept managing to put his foot down on Bucky's fingers.

"I'm usually flying," Sam pointed out in a hiss while Bucky pulled out some ancient foul language on him. "I don't have to climb."

Impossibly, they managed to get to the ground without dying. The landscape they'd been dropped into was wetter and greener than Bucky had been expecting. There was foliage and trees and the cliffs provided run off that snaked around in thin streams. It had been a mad dash earlier to find shelter, so Bucky hadn't been able to examine their current prison. He wasn't sure what the safest route-of-action would be.

Sam kept looking up at the trees, but he evidently wasn't finding what he was looking for because he kept walking with a grunt.

"I don't think we should risk eating anything yet," Bucky called over to him, jogging a little to catch up. "That should really be a last ditch effort. Like...you should eat me before you eat something you find here."

Sam's nose scrunched in abject disgust. "I'm not eating you. I'm not looking for food," he added. "I'm looking for birds."

"Why?" Bucky asked. "I don't think birds existed back here. They're all, like, pterodactyls."

"Pterodactyls aren't the closest relatives to birds," Sam corrected. "I mean, like, birds are the closest living relative to pterodactyls, but not the other way around."

"Why are you looking for birds?" Bucky redirected. Because he kind of didn't care about living relatives when they were stuck with the old version.

"Because I--" Sam stopped suddenly, just on the other side of an opening in the tree line. "Buck," he warned so quietly Bucky almost couldn't hear him. Bucky pushed away the safety bar arm that had gone out in front of him so he could stand by Sam.

In the clearing, there was a whole entire T-fucking-rex.

There were lots of times Bucky's thinking brain shut down in favor of his fighting brain. Back in the war, he'd always felt like something else took over his body and moved it around like the worlds most skilled marionette. Since breaking Hydra's conditioning, he'd felt the Soldier settle into his skin during difficult fights.

Coming face to face with a real fucking T-rex, huddled like the world's largest chicken over a nest, had about every dissociative disorder filling Bucky's bones and muscle and soul and hollow spots. He put himself in front of Sam immediately, pushing Sam back so that he'd have a head start on the running.

The dinosaur was tense, but hadn't stood. Bucky had a cat. He knew that look. He knew that not standing didn't mean anything for a predator with power. It was watching them intently. Buck felt like he couldn't move.

"Sam, run," he whispered, pushing at Sam's hip again. "I'll distract it. You need to get back to the cliff."

"Shut up," Sam whispered back. "Just...just let me think. Give me a second."

The T-rex crouched. Terror punched through Bucky like a real object. He almost got sick with it. "Sam, please," he begged. "Get out of here."

"Hey," Sam said. Loudly. Bucky jumped and looked at him with wild desperation. "We're not here to hurt you or those eggs," he said. "We didn't mean to walk this way."

The T-rex cocked its huge head. It blinked, the way lizards did, which was uncanny. And then, for some reason, it settled back down.

"What the fuck is happening?" Bucky whispered.

"I'm saving your life," Sam answered. To the T-rex, he added, "Are there others around? We could use some help."

The T-rex bellowed. It wasn't like in Jurassic Park. It was...deeper. Fuller. Not so metal-on-metal reverb screeching. It was still damn terrifying and Bucky yelped a little. "What the fuck, Sam?" he hissed.

"T-rex is one of the closest relatives to birds. I can talk to birds, ergo I can talk to dinosaurs," Sam explained like that made any sense.

"What the hell do you mean you can talk to birds? Did it just call another T-rex over here?"

"Actually, she called the other one to some other spot. She wouldn't want it near her nest. We have to go meet it."

"Like hell," Bucky objected.

"Do you want to make this trek on foot again? How did that turn out for us last time?"

"What do you mean you can talk to birds?" Bucky repeated.

"Thank you very much," Sam said to the dinosaur. "And sorry again." He ducked back into the tree line and pulled Bucky with him. "I'll explain later. Right now I need to focus. It's not the same as with birds. I'm having to think a lot more here."

"Did you drink the water? Are you having hallucinations? Hell, am I?"

Sam pinned an unimpressed look on him. "Let's just get going before she changes her mind," he said blandly.

Not for the first time that afternoon, Bucky wondered what the hell his life was.

[bbrokenbback]

Hairstyle hcs time!

So recently ive been thinking what if all of those bald-ass primarchs actually had visited a hairdresser of some sort at least once in their lives instead of taking a razor and getting rid of all their hair. And also what if other who canonically have hair had something actually good on their heads instead of just going in a fight with flowing hair of theirs and idk being tugged on it by some warboss of whatever.

So there it.

I. Lion ElJonson. I think he should have had some sort of braids and it is also going to be probably just as loose and messy as it is in the picture since you know he likes a mele fighting.

2. Let him stay bald.

3. Fulgrim. Canonically hes already got the best hairstyle of all of his brothers but i think there must be something that would fit him best and also be a little more practical in a mele sword fight than having loose hair. I sadly havent found a male reference but it doesnt matter. So i would give Fulgrim a neat ponytail with a band probably made out of his own hair. Its practical, it shows how good hes hair is, its beautiful, its everything we need.

4. Perturabo. Hes focused a little too much on a practical side of things so i think if he had hair he would collect it into a bun. Not so neat since he does not really care about hair at all and it gets messy with time cause he just makes it in the morning and does not correct anything about it till the time he goes to sleep again unless the bun collapses. I also think he would have slightly curly hair because well greek. It also charcoal black.

5. Jaghatai Khan. Hes allowed to have messy hair because hes the definition of a mess himself and he messes around and pls stop me. I think his hairstyle is required to be a little more loose than its in canon because i dont think that a person like him would actually care about keeping his hair neat. Although i see him having a little ponytail on the back of his head the hair itself is just to short to be collected in one scrunchy.

6. Leman Russ. It was too easy to find lots of scandinavian kind of hairtyle references so there we have it: shaved sides with long braids going from the top of the head which is sometimes collected in a bun and sometimes not. Hairstyle had quite a meaning in the northen contries so i think hes the unexpected one to actually care about his hair and making his little braids. It must be some sort of a ritural for him.

7. Rogal Dorn. I honestly cannot see him with hair any longer than hes got in canon. Actually I see him as a person who would like it to be even shorter because you know another guy whos focused on practical stuff too much. He does not really care about hairstyle so his head is always neat but with nothing fancy or special. Hes hair looks like hes just gotten out of the army and is trying to grow it up but fails and cuts it short.

BUT i think he cares about his hair condition a lot because its quite hard to have a clear white hair when you are in constant war. Hes got plenty of purple shampoos to get rid of that annoying yellowness in his hair. One of the few of the primarch to actually use conditioner so altough his hair is short its the softes and the silkiest of all.

8. Konrad Curze. This was a difficult one actually. Most of his hairstyle habits disappear the moment he exits the Prime of Emperor after he finished his Fulgrims degree. And when he had any kind of hairstyle at all it was mostly made by Fulgrim himself so Konrad does not look like a junk rat while walking on his flagship.

I can imagine Fulgrim making poor Konrad having the worst and the most difficult hairstyle ever so he does not unbraid it himself or gets too frustrated by the structure before he finishes it. Maybe something that in M2 was popular among brides, all those hairstyle that requires at least two people to make it work on a head. Increadibly neat and shiny and silky though Konrad does not like it at all. Hes head is itchy hes eyes are pulled in two different direction because of how strong the tension on his temples is.

However Konrad does not shave his head bald out of protest. He just endures his fates.

9. Sanguinius. His hair must be so hard to work with because hes got the curliest of all curls so I think it would take a lot of time for him alone to make something of it properly. Thankfully hes got his sons who are all happy to help their dad with his hair and would probably fight each other for a chance to do so because its considered an honour.

He needs something that is strong enough to not fall apart during his flights and also beautiful so I decided it to be a head-circling braid or a few of them. It is held my several hidden hairpins and from outside it looks rather magical than real because of how good its made. His curls although are almost unnoticable.

10. Ferrus Manus. There is not that much to say about his hair outside of it being a total mess all of the time no matter how long or short it is. His hair must be very dry and so straight that it would never touch Fulgrimg stay in any kind of shape and will stick out in all possible directions like hes not a primarch but a hedgehog. If his hair ever grows up more than shoulder lenght it would look spiky.

Also no idea who the character is but his hair fits and also a little beard is something I can see Ferrus having.

11. Cut of his head while shaving it. Deserved.

12. Angron. Ive seen it somewhere as a canon fact but his hair must be red. So hes a redhead! Its cute! Since he was a gladiator there is not so much of things that he might have done with his hair so he would probably just keep it short. It wouldnt get too dirty in fights, practical and not as ugly as a bald head. Simple though not so neat because I think its kinda hard to wash it while being a slave.

Since hes got nails I think he would always have bristle because its hard to shave when you twitch all the time.

13. Roboute Guilliman. I do not know why hes hair is not curly since hes a walking reference to the Roman Empire. Anyway there is not so much to say about him too but I think hes really into accessories. Flower crowns, lauren wreathes, all that kind of stuff. Simple things like little golden leaves as hairpins too.

I also think that in 41M hes wreath hurts him because it has sharp leaves and is spiky in general so hes got little wounds on his temples all the time which sometimes bleed dirtying his hair and making him look even more like a figure of faith.

14. Mortarion. Hes hair is white or rahter colorless and very thin, also its very brittle considering all the toxic stuff hes met on his homeworld and also his casual habit of taking a glass or two of literal moonshine of his own making which is rather a promethium to human body than an actual drink. Since his hair is thin and brittle I think his hairstyle would be very uneven although he would still keep it long rather than shoulder or temple lenght. He lenght is different on every side of his head but somehow he does not look like a mess of a man who cannot take care of his own hair but rather like a fairy moth.

15. Magnus the Red. Hes a literal shapeshifter so he doesnt really care about whether his hair gets cut off or burnt during a fight or not because he can always grow it back in a minute using his warp magic. Although he still would need a hairstyle to attend some official meetings with humans or his brothers so this is it. I have no idea how to call it but with the hair of his it would look so great. It might appear to others like kinda messy but actually it is not and for Prospero where I can see this hairstyle to be quite traditional its very neatly made. Hes also into accessories like Roboute but for him its rather thin chains, strings and necklaces.

16. Horus Lupercal. Somewhere Ive read that hes got canonically red hair too so be it. Hes a redhead. If he wasnt bald he would have a short military hairstyle. Hes hair is straight, thick and healthy in every way though he does not do much to it. Hes got no actual hairstyle but hes very into royal kind of accessories. Crowns. wreathes, tiaras and diadems of all sorts. Nothing too extra like those gigantic russian crowns since he considers himself to be a rather warrior type of king. Its still too much in comparison to his other brothers.

17. Lorgar Aurelian. I think his hair is just like the Emperors because hes always compared to Him in terms of appearance. Brown. straight but not messy, very heavy. If he wasnt bald he would keep it long, much longer than his shoulders, probably to his waist. The hairstyle is simple yet sometimes quite excessive. Little braids with rings and chains of gold braided into them, sometimes with no braids at all and just the accessories put straight onto strands. And there is always a little too much of them than its required. Just as Sanguinius allows his sons to take care of his hair sometimes with braiding and washing it although it mostly Erebus and Kor Phaerons job.

18. Vulkan. Hes getting dreads since it was quite obvoius but its not that simple. I think on Nocturne its very important to keep you hair clean out of all that vulcanic junk that atmosphere is full of and dreads make it much easier to manage. The way it looks, amount of added colours and accessories is the way of showing a status of a person. Since Vulkan is a primarch his dreads would be very colorful and full of small details such as hollow gems, beads, tapes and belts. There must be lots of pieces of dragons` skin too. Its also very practical because a bun of dreads makes it much easier to work in a forge with long hair considering all the sweat and dirt.

19. Corvus Corax. I dont think hes the kind of a person who would put too much effort in his looks but its different with hair. Since hes got very thick hair and its canonically long I think he might grow it even longer and experiment with it a lot. There is a different hairstyle for fight, for meetings with humans, his brothers and his sons, for each and every special occasion. But i think he would prefer ponytails the because its simple, practical and still looks coold with that hair of his.

20. Alpharius and Omegon. Matching hairstyle. I havent found a reference pic for this one that would fit the vibe of the two of them. Its just crazy matching haistyles. Pink waist long dreads? They both got it. Blue quads with a shaved side? They are mirrorying each other. The older they get the more interesting it gets.

[bloody-bee-tea]

As easy as this

Anyone who can name the song lyric I have in this fic gets a virtual cookie and at least three hearts from me

Hitoshi has a hard time concentrating this morning. He blames it on the lack of food— he knows from experience that he goes all spacey when he skips a meal but it’s not as if it’s in his own hands, these days.

His foster parents decide when he eats and they weren’t inclined to let him eat yesterday evening. Or this morning, for that matter.

Would have been kind of difficult anyway, seeing as he hadn’t been allowed inside of the house, he bitterly thinks and then tries to push that thought away.

Present Mic is already throwing him annoyed glances as it is, there’s no need to make him take special note of Hitoshi on top of everything else today so he needs to get a grip and make himself focus.

It’s just—it’s hard, is all. His stomach is long past grumbling and not even the approaching lunch can lift Hitoshi’s mood because he doesn’t have the money to buy himself something. He keeps a few essential things in a locker at the train station, but money is not one of them.

His foster parents don’t give him enough to squirrel anything away anyway and so instead of stressing over that Hitoshi is more concerned with keeping practical things in that locker. Mainly thick, warm clothes for the nights he has to spent outside and a first aid kit for when his foster parents go at it a little too hard.

Hitoshi jerks when the bell rings, signalling the end of the lesson for today and it takes him a second to get moving. None of his classmates stop to talk to him and while usually that only leaves a bitter feeling of tired acceptance in his chest today he’s thankful for it.

He’s not sure he is in any state to talk to them today. Some of his classmates don’t seem to care about his quirk but there are enough who are wary around him and they never let him forget it even when he’s talking to the ones who seemingly don’t care.

As if he could slip at any moment. As if he would control them over just for the fun of it.

Hitoshi learned to accept it a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with it. It’s just not something he can change and he knows better than to spend any energy on trying on that. He needs his energy for other things after all.

Mainly not failing classes, these days.

“You okay?” One of his braver classmates asks as he stops at Hitoshi’s desk and Hitoshi waves him off.

“I’m fine,” he gives back and he knows he doesn’t look like it—he never does, these days—but that answer is always enough.

No one cares to ask beyond this, and as long as no one really listens to him, it can’t be a lie either, which slightly makes Hitoshi feel better.

If he says it often enough maybe he’ll even feel it one day.

His classmate nods and leaves, just like Hitoshi knew he would and that leaves him alone in the empty classroom.

It’s just as well, because nights out mean little to no sleep since nowhere is really safe and Hitoshi doesn’t have enough money to eat anything anyway, so he might as well catch up on all that sleep he’s been missing.

~*~*~

Hitoshi compulsively raises his hand to touch his face. He spent the entire weekend muzzled—again—and he needs to reassure himself that the thing is not on right now, that he’s free and able to speak should he chose to do so.

He doesn’t have a lot to say these days—nor any people who would listen to him—but it’s the matter of his choice being taken away that always fucks him up.

That and the fact that the muzzle is slightly too small by now. It’s not yet bad enough to cut into his skin and Hitoshi doubts his foster parents are going to let it get that bad seeing as that would only raise questions, but it’s uncomfortable to wear at best and his face still feels slightly irritated.

Everyone is chalking the slight welts on his face up to hormones though and Hitoshi guesses that’s for the best. He wouldn’t know how to explain anyway.

“Is everything okay?” Midnight asks when he raises his hand again to trace over the bridge of his nose and Hitoshi drops his hand immediately.

“I’m fine,” he gets out, taking a moment to remind himself that he’s able to speak, that he wants to speak even if what comes out of his mouth is not entirely the truth.

It doesn’t matter; Midnight has already focused back on her lesson and as long as she doesn’t listen, it’s not a lie.

It cannot be.

Hitoshi doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it is.

~*~*~

Hitoshi can barely breathe. His entire chest is littered with bruises and he thinks his foster father might have done it and cracked a rib or two, but it’s not as if Hitoshi can go to a doctor and get checked out.

There’s no way he could explain the injuries—and all the old scars—on his body and so he’ll just have to breathe through the pain until everything heals up.

Usually Hitoshi’s foster father is more careful—at least since he started attending U.A.—but Hitoshi had done the stupidest thing imaginable and asked a question right where he could hear and then—well.

Hitoshi knows better than that, normally, but his foster father still wanted to make sure that the lesson stuck this time.

It’s definitely doing something, Hitoshi bitterly thinks as his vision briefly goes black when he takes a breath that’s just a little too deep and he just manages to bite back a wince.

“Are you okay?” Snipe asks him and Hitoshi forces himself to keep his breathing smooth and even.

It doesn’t matter that tears prick at his eyes. It doesn’t matter that he can barely move without pain twisting so sharply that it almost makes him sick. It doesn’t matter that his hands can’t stop shaking.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

“I’m fine.”

Snipe’s attention slides away from him before he’s even done speaking and Hitoshi is glad for it.

It cannot be a lie if no one hears.

~_~_~

Hizashi feels restless and worried and he needs to find Shota this instant because he knows talking it over with him will settle his own mind. Shota is good like that.

Hizashi finds him in his preferred teacher’s lounge—preferred because it’s usually empty and has the most comfortable couch—just like he knew he would and it takes Shota all of one glance to close his laptop and fix his entire attention on Hizashi.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know and Hizashi could kiss him just for that.

“Shinso Hitoshi,” Hizashi says, much to Shota’s apparent confusion. “I’m worried about him.”

“Is he in the support course?”

“Gen Ed,” Hizashi corrects him.

He sometimes forgets that Shota exclusively deals with Class 1-A unlike Hizashi himself who teaches English to all of the courses, so of course he wouldn’t know Shinso.

“What about him?” Shota asks and Hizashi wrings his hands in front of his chest.

“Something is wrong.”

It’s all he can say, because his thoughts are running a mile a minute and he can’t really pinpoint any obvious reason anyway. It’s all just a hunch. A feeling. Something nagging at the back of his head, telling him that the boy is not okay, that something is wrong, that he needs to do something.

“Okay,” Shota agrees calmly and this is exactly why Hizashi needed to talk to him so badly. Shota always keeps a level head, tries to be as rational as possible and it balances Hizashi’s own erratic, emotional thinking out quite nicely. “Talk me through it. What have you noticed?”

“He has eyebags worse than yours,” Hizashi starts with because it’s the most obvious one and Shota snorts out a quiet laugh.

“That could just be because he’s a teenage boy. What else?” he wants to know because clearly he trusts Hizashi to have more than just this one thing.

“He barely talks to his classmates, I have never seen him in the cafeteria, he doesn’t change with the others for the few training lessons they have, his hands shake more often than not, he doesn’t seem to have any personal belongings and he keeps touching his face as if he has to reassure himself of something.”

“Any obvious injuries?” Shota already has to know the answer, because if there were any obvious signs Hizashi wouldn’t feel the need to talk this over with him first but Hizashi answers anyway.

“No. Sometimes there are some rashes on his face but those could be from anything. Sometimes he holds himself as if he’s in pain, or as if he’s sore from something but other than that, no.”

“Mh,” Shota hums out and Hizashi wrings his hands in front of his chest again.

“Sho, I’m telling you, something is wrong.”

“And I believe you. You have an eye for that kind of thing,” Shota immediately reassures him and it settles something in Hizashi to know that his husband is not questioning his entire sanity. “What’s his quirk?”

“Brainwashing,” Hizashi mutters because he hates what that kid’s quirk has been named. Surely they could have phrased it in a way that didn’t make anyone who hears it flinch.

Shota clicks his tongue at that before he stills for a moment and just because of that Hizashi knows that he’s not going to like what Shota says next.

“Is it voice activated?” Shota carefully asks and just like that it all slides into place for Hizashi and for a moment it feels as if he can’t breathe.

He raises his hands to his own face, suddenly feeling the phantom imprint of a muzzle there and Shota is there a second later, tightly grasping his hand.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs him and Hizashi follows his order without a second thought.

It becomes easier to breathe after a minute but he still stares wide-eyed and panicked at Shota.

“You think they are muzzling him?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Muzzling people with voice-based quirks has been outlawed years ago,” Hizashi weakly protests and Shota grimaces.

“You know it’s not always that easy,” he softly says and fuck, does Hizashi know, but to think that it’s happening to one of their students is unbearable.

“Has anyone else voiced their concerns?”

“No,” Hizashi gives back. “I talked to Snipe and Midnight and while they said that Shinso is not the most attentive student they don’t see any red flags.”

“Has anyone asked him directly?” Shota wants to know next and Hizashi shakes his head because he doesn’t think so.

Why would they if they all don’t see anything wrong with him?

“Okay, then we will,” Shota decides and squeezes Hizashi’s hand. “Do you know his living conditions? Family, siblings, that sort of stuff?”

“I don’t, but Nezu talks to all the parents, right? He would have noted it down if there were any kinds of flags.”

“Let’s check the records then.” Shota pulls him over to the touch, opening his laptop back up and logging in to the U.A. system.

It’s a matter of seconds to pull up Shinso’s file but to Hizashi it feels as if years pass and he can’t help but to impatiently bounce his leg. He knows they have to read this first, so they know what they walk into, what               questions to ask Shinso but Hizashi would really rather just go and speak to the kid directly.

Hizashi only turns his attention back to Shota when he feels him freeze next to him.

“What?” he demands to know, dread already curling in his gut and Shota lets out a harsh breath.

“He’s in foster care. His foster parents weren’t available for the talk with Nezu or any of the follow up appointments. He marked it as suspicious.”

“Fuck. Sho, fuck,” Hizashi reiterates again and Shota nods in agreement.

“Is your emergency foster license still up to date?”

“You know it is,” Hizashi huffs out because the school requires them to keep them updated at all times, precisely for cases like this. “But I can’t be the one to do it,” he tacks on, because he knows the system.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to get custody of Shinso, not even temporarily.

“What? Why not?”

“My quirk is voice based, too. They won’t allow this. You know how it is.” It pains Hizashi to say it but quirk discrimination is high these days and heteromorphs and people with voice-based quirks are bearing the brunt of it lately. Adding the fact that Shinso’s brainwashing will be seen as a villainous quirk by most people only makes it more unlikely to garner any sympathy and the fear that installs in people will only needlessly complicate things.

If Shinso is unsafe with his foster parents then his social worker is most likely aware and allows this, which means that if Hizashi petitions for emergency foster care of Shinso they will accuse him of collaborating with Shinso, wishing to train his quirk up.

Which would be true, but would put a serious hurdle right in front of them and they can’t afford that. And that’s only the best case scenario. Worst case, they’ll accuse Shinso of brainwashing him into wanting this and Hizashi can’t have that.

If their hunch is right and Shinso is being muzzled at home they have to get him out as quickly as possible.

“You have to do it,” Hizashi says and Shota seems about as unhappy as Hizashi feels but he nods reluctantly.

His quirk alone would be a point in their favour, in the eyes of any social worker who is as biased as Shinso’s has to be and he seems to realise that, too.

“Fine. It’s just a formality anyway,” Shota shrugs because in the end it is.

They are married. No matter who gets custody of Shinso, he’s going to stay with them both anyway.

“I’m guessing we’re doing this today?” Shota asks but it’s more of a rhetoric question, because of course they are doing this today.

There is no way Hizashi will let Shinso go home if his foster parents really are abusing him.

“He should be in Midnight’s class right now,” Hizashi says after a look at the clock and Shota nods.

“Alright. You go get him; he doesn’t know me and he’s bound to panic if I show up out of the blue. We’ll talk to him in one of the conference rooms, away from prying eyes.”

“Sounds good.”

It sounds absolutely horrible because Hizashi never wanted to have such a conversation with one of his students but it has to be done and at least like that they’ll have the privacy they need for such a talk.

It’s the least they can do with what they are about to ask Shinso.

~*~*~

Hitoshi feels sluggish with how cold he is. The night had been freezing and even the emergency clothes he keeps in the locker weren’t enough to keep him even moderately warm throughout the night.

He still can’t feel his fingers, though they are no longer a suspicious blue, and he’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

What he does know is that Present Mic calling out for him as soon as he steps outside the classroom is a very bad thing.

“Shinso, hey. Do you have a moment? I’d like to talk to you about something,” Present Mic tells him and he is clearly expecting Hitoshi to answer, no matter that there’s no way he can refuse one of his teachers.

Hitoshi is kind of glad that he’s already cold all over because the dread running through him would have leeched away all his body heat anyway.

“Sure,” he mutters, desperately clutching the strap of his bag and he follows Present Mic without another word.

He did not expect to be lead to one of the conference rooms, the ones that are sound-proof and can only be accessed by the teachers.

Fuck, this is worse than he thought, isn’t it?

Present Mic holds the door open for him and Hitoshi steps past him but he freezes when he sees Eraserhead already in the room.

Fuck, he’s going to throw up any second now, he desperately thinks because if two teachers want to speak to him—with one not even teaching him—then he really fucked up badly.

Hitoshi distantly knows that he should probably try to keep up appearances as best as he can, but he’s so busy not throwing up right then and there that it’s kind of inevitable that his hands shake.

They are going to call his foster parents because of whatever he did and that will be the end of Hitoshi. His foster parents made that more than clear.

“Shinso, hey, you need to breathe, kiddo,” Present Mic gently tells him as he steers him towards the unoccupied couch. “You’re not in trouble, I promise you that.”

It’s an empty promise; Hitoshi has enough experience with teachers saying that to him and then calling his foster parents once his back is turned so Present Mic’s words do exactly nothing to calm him down.

“What did I do?” he forces himself to ask once everyone is seated because if he gets this out of the way fast then he can do damage control. But he needs to know what he did wrong first.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eraserhead tells him, and even though his voice is serious, it’s just as gentle as Present Mic’s was.

“Shinso, are you okay?” Present Mic asks him, fiddling with his fingers and this is easy.

This, Hitoshi knows how to do.

“I’m fine,” he says, and looks out for the way interest slides out of their eyes, waits for them to turn their gaze away from him.

It takes a second and then five and then ten and Hitoshi squirms, uneasy, because both teachers keep looking at him.

“I’m going out on a whim here, but I would guess that’s not true,” Eraserhead finally says and Hitoshi feels as if he can’t breathe.

If they are listening then it’s a lie, it’s all a lie what he’s saying and Hitoshi doesn’t know how to deal with that.

No one ever listens.

“Shinso, you can tell us the truth. You’re safe here and we won’t let any more harm come to you,” Present Mic tells him and it’s so ridiculous, so outlandish, so far from how any of this normally goes that Hitoshi doesn’t know what to do.

He focuses on breathing for now because that seems moderately important.

“If you are not okay, if you are being hurt, at home or here at school, you can tell us,” Eraserhead says and shares a glance with Present Mic. “We’ll make sure to protect you.”

It’s something Hitoshi should probably respond to, tell them that he’s fine, that there is nothing to worry about, that there’s no need for them to concern themselves with him and he’s just about to do that but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a sob.

It’s as if a dam has been broken because after that first one follows a second and a third and Hitoshi can’t stop, he absolutely cannot get a grip on himself and soon enough he’s hyperventilating into his hands.

He doesn’t know for how long it goes on, can’t concentrate on anything but the tight feeling in his chest, the way he absolutely cannot breathe, can’t hear anything but an insistent ringing in his ears but eventually he becomes aware of someone talking to him, though he can’t make out the words.

Hitoshi tries to focus on the voice until he can hear actual words and he’s mortified to realise that it’s Present Mic, telling him when to breathe in and out and it almost sends him spiralling again but the firm grip he has on Hitoshi’s hands keeps him from losing it completely.

“I’m good, I’m fine,” he gasps out eventually and he thinks he hears Eraserhead snort out an unamused laugh.

“No offense kid, but you’ve been panicking for close to fifteen minutes now. I’d say you’re anything but okay.”

“How are you feeling? Right now? Nauseous? Faint? You’re pretty cold, are you about to drop on us?”

“I have been cold since this evening,” Hitoshi mutters, glad that his voice doesn’t crack on top of everything else and he doesn’t need to look up to know that Eraserhead and Present Mic are sharing a glance.

“Couldn’t you warm up at home?” Present Mic asks and Hitoshi instinctively curls in on himself.

The house isn’t his home and his foster parents never let him forget that.

“I don’t have a home,” he whispers, tugging his hands out of Present Mic’s and hiding them out of sight, as if that could hide the way he’s shaking. “There’s a house I’m sometimes allowed to sleep in and yesterday wasn’t one of those days,” he tacks on and distantly wonders where he finds the courage to say any of that out loud.

He has never talked about this with anyone.

But then again, no one has ever asked with the intention to listen, either.

Present Mic lets out a long breath and Eraserhead leans forward, his elbows on his knees, to give Hitoshi a serious look.

“Thank you for telling us,” he says and it feels almost stupid because no one should thank Hitoshi for dumping any of that on them.

“Before we talk about anything else I want you to know that both Shota and I have emergency foster licenses and that we’re not going to let you go back,” Present Mic tells him and Hitoshi guesses that ‘Shota’ must be Eraserhead.

“I—don’t understand,” Hitoshi admits after a long moment and almost feels bad about it when Present Mic wilts at his side.

“Shinso, I don’t know if you know this but not allowing a kid to come home is illegal,” Present Mic tells him. “That’s endangerment of a minor at best.”

“And this is just a hunch, but there’s a muzzle involved in the house as well, right?” Eraserhead carefully asks and Hitoshi can’t hide the way he flinches. Eraserhead only nods. “That’s illegal as well.”

“I know all of that,” Hitoshi gets out past the new wave of panic at having these two know what’s going on at the house.

“Then what don’t you understand?” Present Mic sounds honestly confused as he shares another look with Eraserhead.

“I just—I know it’s illegal and wrong but—no one ever cared about that before,” he blurts out and does not enjoy the way both their faces fall.

“Oh, Shinso,” Present Mic whispers out and his hands twitch as if he wants to pull Hitoshi into a hug.

Hitoshi almost wants him to do it.

“We care,” Eraserhead simply says as if it could be that easy and it only serves to make Hitoshi’s eyes water again.

“No one ever cares,” he says again because he doesn’t understand why these two would, what changed all of a sudden and this time Present Mic doesn’t hold back.

He leans right in for a hug and Hitoshi doesn’t have it in him to pull away and instead almost burrows into the warmth of the embrace.

“We care, kiddo, we do. And now that we know you’re not safe with your current foster family, we’ll put our emergency foster licenses to good use. Shota will get temporary custody of you on account of abuse and you’ll come home with us before we figure out the rest. How does that sound?”

“Confusing,” Hitoshi admits after a moment and pulls away. “What do you mean ‘home with us’? He’s the one I’ll have to stay with, right?”

“Oh, yeah, but we’re married, so you’ll come home with both of us.”

Married, Hitoshi whispers to himself and he must make quite the face because Present Mic huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, no one ever sees it, yada, yada, yada,” he waves off and Eraserhead rolls his eyes at him.

“Very mature,” he teases Present Mic and Hitoshi thinks he can see it, maybe. A bit.

But that really is not the pressing matter.

The most pressing matter is that this is all too good to be true and that thought scares Hitoshi. What if they change their minds? They must know what his quirk is, it’s all in his file, so he doesn’t understand how they don’t mind.

“Still doesn’t explain why you care,” he blurts out, rather rudely, and he freezes instantly when both men look at him.

“Shinso, you’re just a kid. A kid who deserves to have a stable, safe environment at the very least. You clearly don’t, and we care about that. About you. We want to give you that.”

“How did you even notice? No one ever notices,” Hitoshi finds himself saying even though a part of himself is urging him to stop questioning this. He should just take what he could get here, and every further question only raises the danger of it all slipping through his fingers again.

“Hizashi is good like that,” Eraserhead says with a small smile and Present Mic shrugs bashfully.

“But my quirk—”

“Should really not factor into any of this. I know that it most likely has, and I am sorry you have been treated so badly because of it, but it really doesn’t matter to us.”

“It’s a villain’s quirk,” Hitoshi mutters because it’s what he’s been told all his life.

“Strange,” Present Mic says and waits for Hitoshi to meet his gaze before he goes on. “I remember this being a hero school. And since you’re here that would make it a hero’s quirk.”

It’s said so easily, as if it’s nothing but a fact when all his life people have been laughing at him when he says he wants to be a hero and Hitoshi finds himself crying again.

“It’s alright, kiddo, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe,” Present Mic promises him. “Shota is going to make that call now so you can come with us and we’ll go find Lunch Rush to get you a soup to warm up while he deals with all the boring bureaucracy, how does that sound?”

“Too good to be true,” Hitoshi admits because it does, before the rest of Present Mic’s words register. “I don’t have money,” he quietly says. “I can’t pay for the soup.”

“Good thing that you won’t have to, then,” Present Mic gives back before he briefly falls quiet. “Is that why you never eat in the cafeteria?” he then wants to know and Hitoshi didn’t know that someone had noticed and it’s not as if he can find his voice anyway so he simply nods.

He can hear Present Mic make an angry sound and he instinctively curls his shoulders in when Eraserhead speaks up.

“Hizashi, not now,” he warningly says and Present Mic falls silent again, taking a deep breath.

“You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Boring phone call for you, soup for us,” he then cheerfully says and shoos Eraserhead off, who rolls his eyes at Present Mic but does leave the room.

An almost awkward silence falls over the room and Hitoshi finds himself fiddling with his fingers.

“You don’t have to do this,” he feels the need to say and it’s almost comical how affronted Present Mic seems at that.

“Kiddo, you’re safe now. We’ve got you now, for as long as you want or need.”

“But—”

“Shinso, we want to. It wasn’t even a question for us. We want to help you.”

Present Mic seems entirely sincere as he says it and Hitoshi doesn’t have another choice but to believe him.

“Okay then.”

He knows that it probably won’t be as easy as this, because nothing in his life ever is, but maybe for today it can be.

And then maybe for tomorrow it can be again and that alone would be better than a lot of the past days in Hitoshi’s life. And if he really gets lucky for once in his life, maybe every day after that can be a good day, too.

He thinks that would be nice and when he gives a shaky smile to Present Mic who immediately smiles back with nothing but warmth on his face, it doesn’t seem so unattainable anymore.

[delimeful]

failed bounties and fresh bonds (3)

G/T July Day 14: Instrument

warnings: dehumanization, mild blood, threats, captivity, child endangerment, lmk if i missed any

-

Roman was in the midst of perusing the brightly-colored wares at a market stall when he overheard the quiet conversation.

He hadn’t actually planned to stay in town for so long, but the innkeeper had mentioned the weekly market and he’d found himself wondering if maybe there were any toys or other entertaining items being sold there.

He’d be a poor excuse for an uncle if he didn’t even bring back any gifts for his treasured nephew, after all!

(And maybe if he picked the perfect one, he’d make some actual progress on getting in Virgil’s good graces. Or at least having the kid be even a little less terrified of him!)

It was at least worth looking, he decided, even if such a detour was a bit of a distraction from his journey. He would be in and out, easy as that.

Except one stall had pointed out another, which had led to another and so on, and before he knew it, half the morning had gone by. And he still hadn’t picked out a gift!

Before he could commit one way or the other, hurried whispering from the nearby corner caught his ear. He was a knight, which meant all his senses were keenly trained to pick up trouble. And mutterings about a monster? That most certainly sounded like trouble.

“Pardon me,” he started, cutting into the hushed argument with a dazzling smile. “As a knight of the realm, I’d be happy to help you out with your little monster problem! No bounty hunters necessary.”

“It’s not a little problem,” one of the townsfolk grumbled, while the other eyed Roman speculatively.

“You’ll get rid of it without charging us?” she asked bluntly, earning a glare from her companion.

Roman nodded, used to the question. “Such is the responsibility of a knight of these lands.”

“It’s not something we need to get rid of!” the first stranger interrupted with a scowl. “It’s powerful, it could be devastating on a battlefield. Your king should be buying it from us.”

“Oh, shut it,” the woman snapped. “You can’t get that beast to do anything but growl and hide away, and I want it out of here before the town becomes its next casualty!”

The man wheeled around to face her, his face purpling, but before they could start bickering again, Roman stepped forward.

“Why don’t you take me to where the monster is, first?” he said, patting the hilt of his sword reassuringly. “I won’t be able to decide anything without seeing it.”

The pair subsided with matching grumbles, and before long, they were walking down a small, overgrown path outside of the town, one that slowly curved into the rockier forest area that surrounded it.

It was interesting that he couldn’t find a trace of fear on either of his guides, even as they grew closer to where the alleged beast was. Wariness and irritation, sure, but none of the true terror that so often came with seeing one of the monsters of this land.

Roman didn’t think it was an ambush or trap, either. Perhaps they’d simply caught a particularly large wolfdog and gotten overexcited?

“Here we are,” the man said, his vexed expression fading away in favor of excitement, like a child showing off a new toy.

They’d reached the wide mouth of a cave, one that was squat and shallow, but still deep enough to house something large. There was nothing in sight.

“Are we supposed to venture inside…?” Roman hazarded, not too keen on the idea. His dislike of dark spaces aside, cramped quarters were the worst place for his favored style of combat.

The woman snorted. “Not unless you want to be bitten in half. Just wake it up already.”

The latter sentence was directed at the man, who scowled darkly at her before pulling an engraved bit of metal from his pocket. From a single glance at the intricate symbols and embedded stones, Roman assumed it was an enchanted magical instrument of some kind.

The woman shot him an assessing glance, as though to see if he had any negative response to the item, but he only met her gaze evenly, unperturbed.

His brother had wrangled the magic of his curse into its own kind of witchcraft at ten years old. Roman would be a hypocrite to believe that all forms of enchantment were designed to harm.

He had something of a bad feeling in his gut, though, and it only worsened as he watched the man press a thumb down against the sharp edge of the tool, pricking his finger to activate the device with his blood.

There was a pause as the man waited expectantly, and then frowned, before tightening his grip on the tool and yanking it through the air, as though pulling at an invisible cord.

With a muffled cry, something huge tumbled out of the cave into the light. Roman took a step back, feeling the color drain from his face.

That was not a wolfdog.

His attention caught on the identifying details first— the horns, the scales, the horizontal pupils, the wings— and he knew that this was a dragon, shifted into a more humanoid form (if admittedly one that was still dragon-sized).

In the next moment, Roman’s eyes settled onto the face beneath the mythical features, and his heart dropped like a stone. That was a child’s face, round-cheeked and crumpled up in distress.

Sure, it was a child big enough to grind his bones to a paste in one swat, but that didn’t change the fact that he was seeing a kid in tears. A kid that happened to be awfully similar to his recently acquired nephew.

They were alike in more ways than one, he realized as his gaze dropped down to the thick metal cuffs that were wrapped around all four of the child’s limbs. They had no chains binding them together— or rather, no visible chains. The engravings visible on the metal were telling enough as to just what that enchanted instrument was connected to.

“Where did you get that tool?” he asked, dizzy with the shock of such a scene.

The man preened, mistaking Roman’s alarm for interest. “Impressive, isn’t it? Some idiot sold it to me for cheap.”

The only ones skilled enough to get cuffs like these on a dragon shifter were mercenaries, who were known for being demanding barterers. More likely than not, that ‘idiot’ had been pawning off a stolen good, hoping to pass on the consequences of crossing a mercenary guild to an unlucky buyer.

Roman remembered the faded scars on Virgil, and felt a boiling hot fury bubbling up in him. He took a step forward, expression dark, and the kid flinched away and huddled down. The motion was enough to send a shock of horror down his spine, dousing the worst of his impulsive anger.

Right. Get the kid out safe first, deal with scumbags later.

“This is certainly a dangerous creature,” he lied through grit teeth, and then held out a hand. “You were right to take me up on my services. I can take it from here.”

The man recoiled, holding the tool tighter. “I know something valuable when I see it, and clearly, so do you. It would be stupid of me to part with it without getting something for my time.”

Roman turned to look at the child again, trying to repress the hot anger bubbling in his chest. The kid wasn’t even watching them discuss their fate, eyes scrunched up tightly and hands twitching like they would have covered their ears, too, if their wrists weren’t still locked in place.

He had left to avoid inflicting more distress on a traumatized child, and yet here he stood, doing exactly that yet again. Roman grimaced, and then asked himself a question that almost never led him anywhere good: What would Remus do?

Turning slowly, he met the man’s eyes, set a hand on the pommel of his sword, and grinned.

“It would be stupider,” he said, slow and menacing, “to demand anything from me when I’m the one fixing your little problem in the first place.”

The man lost some of his confidence, wavering.

“If you’d prefer to lose a hand along with it, by all means keep hanging on,” Roman added, almost conversationally. “I’m sure even the bite of my blade would feel like tender mercy compared to the wrath that will fall upon you if the mercenaries that caught this beast find out you’re the one who stole that key.”

“Give it to him,” the woman snapped, expression hard and hunted.

Knowing what terror she’d sat by and abided, Roman couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.

“Fine!” the man spat, throwing the tool at his feet. “Take it and go!”

The woman, keener on the uptake, grabbed him by the crook of his arm the moment the key hit the dirt, and yanked him back down the path from where they’d come.

Roman obviously wasn’t actually going to use the tool to make the kid attack them, for a very large range of reasons, but he wasn’t going to correct the misconception if it got them away from him and the kid quicker.

He leaned down to scoop the key up, grimacing at the glint of blood still visible on it, and then turned to look at the kid.

They quickly shuttered the eye they’d been peeking out of back closed, immediately curling in tighter and bracing themself.

“Dear child,” Roman said, sorrow heavy in his heart. “Can you look at me for a moment?”

There was a pause, the kid twitching in surprise, and then a slow reappearance of those big blue eyes.

“Hello there,” he greeted, keeping his voice soft. “I don’t know you, but I have a nephew that you remind me very much of. I’m sorry for speaking so harshly before, but I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

“Help me?” the kid echoed in a large whisper, and then winced as though waiting for a strike to land.

“Yes,” Roman replied, once he was confident that he’d ironed the last traces of the fury he felt out of his voice. “Do you know how I could remove these cuffs from you?”

The kid’s eyes went impossibly wider. “Really?” they whispered.

Roman nodded firmly. “Really, truly.”

Their bottom lip wobbled, and Roman felt a sense of despair at what was turning out to be a month that proved him extremely inept with children, only for them to blink back the tears and keep speaking in that hushed voice.

“I don’t know how to remove ‘em, but I— I know if you get all the blood off, I can move my hands around normal again," they offered, watching him with an unsettling intensity, eyes lit with the tentative hope of a starved dog.

Roman pulled his canteen from his hip immediately, untwisting the lid with his teeth and promptly dumping the contents over the metal’s surface. The worst of the blood was washed away, and he dragged out a part of his undershirt to wipe off the remaining stain.

He couldn't deny a bit of apprehension, but rather than try and attack him or otherwise lash out, the kid only pulled their hands to their chest and curled over them protectively, the mingled stress and relief so visible on their face that Roman felt his own chest ache in sympathy.

“May I know your name, dear child?” he asked, pushing away his automatic nervousness as they shifted to sit up to their full height.

“Oh!” the child gasped, seemingly shocked that they’d only just recalled their manners despite the situation. “M’name is Patton, nice to meet you!”

“Well, Patton Nicetomeetyou,” Roman responded in jest, relief sweeping over him when the kid smiled, “You may call me Roman.”

He swept into a dramatic bow, adding the silliest flourishes in his repertoire, and Patton laughed, a soft, watery chuckle. The longer they spoke without being punished, the more they uncurled, slowly, like a flower blooming.

“If I may?” Roman asked, reaching a hand out.

He thought for a moment that the child would refuse— Virgil certainly refused any and all direct contact with him— but Patton only hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out, hovering their considerably larger hand in front of him.

“For you,” he vowed, and set the instrument on Patton’s fingertips. “Until we find a way to get those accursed cuffs off, you should be the only one to possess that device.”

Patton’s fingers drew back the moment they recognized the tool, inhaling sharply as they curled their fist around it. They sniffled slightly, but they were smiling again, as though they couldn’t help the surprised delight, so Roman didn’t feel entirely useless.

“My brother, Remus, knows much more about magecraft than I do. I would be honored if you would accompany me to his home. He may be strange,” Roman paused, and then emphasized, “very, very strange, but he’ll do what he can to help.”

Patton was nodding almost before he’d finished speaking, eyes still red-rimmed. “I can’t go home until I know nobody can make me hurt anyone,” they said firmly. “I wanna meet your weird brother, please.”

Now there was a sentence he almost never heard. With any luck, Remus would know what to do, or even Virgil, though Roman would be loath to ask anything that reminded his nephew of whatever horrors lurked in his past.

“Then meet him you shall! I’ll retrieve my horse from town, and we can be off!” Roman replied heartily, his own spirits lifted by Patton’s determination.

He wouldn’t have time to pick up a gift for Virgil, but that was alright. Roman got the feeling that his current endeavor was something his nephew would have valued more, anyhow.

[tamamatango]

“Holy shit they actually froggin did it”: A Keroro Gunso anime revival preliminary info and speculation post (late as hell edition)

Okay first of all,

AWAKEN

That’s right, vanished-into-the-void bastard Kirb here, I am an alive person still, though I’m certain a lot of stuff on this blog is horrifically outdated. Don’t get too used to my presence, I’m a whole ass adult with a 9-to-5 now and don’t really have the energy to put into consistently maintaining this account, at least not to the degree that I used to (took me well over a whole ass MONTH just to write this post). However, I’ve returned for a special occasion, as basically anyone still in this fandom is already aware considering it’s been forever now:

We are so fucking back

It took thirteen years and counting, but here we are, a brand new Keroro anime project is in the works—no “the short anime of all time” Flash series here, this is the real deal, straight out of 2004–2011, and goddamn is it beautiful. I might’ve been off the mark when I called it for the 15th anniversary, but it’s now the 20th, five years later, and the madmen did what was once thought impossible by many.

So let’s break down what the hell is actually going on here, because when this got revealed last month, Keroro fans on all sides of the globe basically started collectively running around like headless chickens. I’m gonna divide this aggregation post into the following sections:

Where did this even come from

Clearing up misconceptions

Okay so like what is “““Project”””

Collection of statements from official accounts, staff and cast, etc.

The Localization Question (TM)

Miscellaneous thoughts that don’t really fit anywhere else

I was originally going to make this a living document of sorts but some small stuff has already happened since I started drafting this the day after the reveal happened, so this should be it for the time being. It’s a hefty enough post as is. I am just a master procrastinator :V

That takes care of all the goofy intro nonsense, now for the parts you actually want to read, starting underneath the cut!

Section 1: The Signs Were There

As previously stated, 2024 is the 20th anniversary of the Keroro anime, along with the 25th anniversary of the manga’s serialization but apprently even they don’t care about that since they’ve made no fanfare around it whatsoever, unlike the joint 15th & 20th anniversary back in 2019. Maybe they will as we get closer to the manga anniversary in November, but for now-obvious reasons the anime has been overshadowing the manga side by a lot.

If you’ve been monitoring the Keroro PR account on Twitter (you bet your ass I’m still calling it that) you’ll have noticed an increasing output of Stuff over the last year or two, even compared to the prior anniversary. These include but are not limited to:

In 2021, the series opened an official YouTube Channel, where they’ve been doing reruns of the anime (region locked to Japan), PR podcasts, etc. It’s also where the revival announcement premiered on April 1 at midnight JST.

In 2023, the series opened an official Fan Club with a paid membership. Originally it was a temporary project meant to last for only the two anniversary years (2023 for the pilot oneshot’s anniversary, and 2024 for the anime/manga), but was ultimately extended indefinitely due to “good reception” (my guess is it was always planned to be more than two years but they didn’t want to make it too easy to guess as early as last year that the anime was returning lol). They have a merch store, giveaways, and some kind of social component. I don’t know much about it otherwise because it’s a paid membership that I don’t have access to.

The series has had an overall increase in merchandise and collabs since 2022 or so. This has pretty much always been the case, but there was a bit of a lull between the Flash series ending and the ramp-up period to this (I’d start at 2021 when the YouTube channel opened). Save for the 15th/20th stuff in 2019, for which the major project was Keroro UC, a spinoff manga/plamo line that just…never released all the models and has never been brought up again. Guess it didn’t do very well :V

A number of international releases/rereleases happened as well, but I’ll get into that a little bit more in its dedicated section. For now let’s just say that the anime being finally licensed and put up on streaming in North America may indicate the new series will be English translated in some capacity. It’s also made a resurgence in Korea, its biggest market outside Japan, where it’s had new exhibitions and collab cafes, a redub (that only got through 2 seasons I think), and even a new mobile game.

And finally, a week or so before the announcement, a new Twitter account was created specifically for the anime side of the brand. I think this was really the big tip-off, as Keroro PR has been the hub for all things related to the franchise for the last nearly 15 years, even when the original anime itself was still running during Twitter’s infancy. Keroro PR has posted everything for every other anime anniversary. The fact that now all of a sudden they had to sector off the anime stuff into its own account made it clear something bigger was going on. (Accordingly, the Keroro Anime account has labeled Keroro PR the “original work” account, AKA the manga side of things.)

Essentially I think they’ve been planning this to some degree since as long ago as 2021, the first time the president of Bandai Namco Pictures (animation studio comprised of Sunrise staff that took over the Keroro IP in 2015 and are now producing the new anime) openly acknowledged the possibility. I’ll just link my own tweet with the translation of his statement here. This was right around the opening of the YouTube channel, so I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

tl;dr Momentum for the anime component of the franchise has been building for the past couple of years pointing toward a new anime around the 20th anniversary, so I wouldn’t say this comes off as a huge surprise, though I was expecting something smaller scale than what we might be getting (more on that in the “what is this” section).

Section 2: No It’s Not April Fools, Guys, Plus Other Clarifications

With the announcement spreading across the internet, I’ve seen a few points of confusion going around that I’d like to clear up before I go any further.

As I’ve made clear in the section title, yes the new anime was revealed on April 1, no this is not a prank. A lot of Japanese companies do post April Fools pranks, but keep in mind April also marks the start of the new fiscal year in Japan, so many legitimate announcements are made as well. Plus, the original anime’s exact anniversary was on April 3, just a couple of days after the announcement.

I’ve seen a lot of people call this a new series, season, etc., but officially, the only term used to describe this so far is “new anime project”. That could mean literally anything, from TV series to movie to ONA and so on. I am leaning closer to a certain interpretation, which is what the entire next section is for, but for the time being, calling it anything other than “new anime” is technically not concrete info.

There seems to be a little bit of confusion on what studio is working on this, but in short: it's Bandai Namco Pictures (BN Pictures or BNP for short). As previously mentioned, this is the studio that inherited the Keroro IP when it spun off from Sunrise in 2015. Sunrise, the anime's original studio, is now a brand name for the larger anime management company Bandai Namco Filmworks. Although they've held the IP for almost a decade, this is the first time they've really gotten to do anything with it besides merchandise licensing and some anti-piracy commercial from a few years ago that they’ve ironically scrubbed from the internet now. If you've seen the name Studio BIND (Mushoku Tensei, Onimai) floating around, they're assisting with the production but are not the primary animation studio. Of course this is all assuming this setup continues on to the final project and not just for the PV, but I see no reason to assume otherwise at the moment. It would be rather unusual for BNP to outsource anything if it was solely for a 30 second trailer.

I think that does it for the main points of contention I wanted to address for now, so moving on to the thing we all really want to know…

Section 3: Okay But What Is It Actually???

Well, as I said in the previous section—we don't know, lol. At least not officially. But if we put our thinking caps on, we can make a few deductions:

The anime project will be broadcast on TV. In other words, it won't be an ONA (original net animation). This is determined based on the fact that TV Tokyo, the network the original anime aired on, is on the production committee. For those who don't know, a production committee for an anime is the collection of parties/companies who contribute to the production and funding of the anime. For comparison, the Keroro Flash Series, which aired only on the TV channel Animax to accompany a dedicated timeslot for the original anime reruns, did not have TV Tokyo in its committee. So, it will likely air on TV Tokyo once again.

It's (probably) not a movie. This is going to be more evidenced by point 3 than anything, but BNP has been pretty clear about when something is a movie specifically in the past, such as when Kaiketsu Zorori had various feature films in the 2010s before getting an actual TV anime revival in 2020. Still, we can't be 100% sure until someone directly says otherwise.

It's going to be more than a one-off. I will post the statement in full in the next section, but the Keroro PR account uses specific wording (“resumption,” “new start,” etc.) that sounds very much like they’re making a longer term commitment, so this is straight from the horse’s mouth, essentially.

The series will be a continuation of the 2004-2011 series rather than a reboot. This one’s probably my flimsiest prediction as the PR statements sort of obfuscate whether it’s one or the other, but the character bios section on the new anime portal site gives away a big hint: the Garuru Platoon, Pururu included, is there. This means that we can reason that, at minimum, all or part of Season 3 has already occurred. The character bios themselves also summarize things that weren’t revealed until a little while into the show, such as how Momoka and Tamama met. That all said, the Garuru Platoon members do not have bios, so I suppose they want to keep what’s being done with them a bit of a secret; perhaps they intend to reintroduce them with some kind of dramatic arc again. Either way, if the series does retread/retell some old material, it probably won’t be the bulk of the story. This makes sense to me, as it’s not like the show has been so hard to find in the last decade that a reboot is necessary to get a modern audience on board—it reruns constantly on kids’ TV channels like the Japanese version of Cartoon Network, is available in full on multiple streaming platforms (movies included), and is now on its second rebroadcast of the whole series episode by episode on the YouTube Channel. Unless you’re a literal toddler, if you’re interested in the series, you’ve probably watched at least some of it already.

In conclusion, based on the above (admittedly sparse) evidence, I am inclined to believe the new anime project is a TV series that will air on TV Tokyo as the 2004 anime did and will be a continuation rather than a reboot; however, there is no way to determine episode length, episode count, etc. at this time. It could be a cour (for those who don't know anime, "cour" is your average 12-episode season), it could be consecutive cours, it could be split cour (in other words, goes on break for a season before returning), it could even be a year-round anime if they really wanna go all the way with it. Granted, I hesitate to believe that they would do the latter simply due to the nature of anime production these days, and as far as I know, BNP has not done a single year-round airing since its founding. Even the aforementioned Kaiketsu Zorori revival was a two cour (24-25 eps) series each year from 2020-2022. My guess is we're looking at something similar here, but Keroro is a pretty big deal, so could they make an exception? Maybe, but this setup would already lead to more episodes than the vast majority of anime these days, so it would still be plenty enough to be happy with.

Considering all this and the list of numerous hints that we were potentially getting a new anime as far back as three years ago as bulleted in Section 1, you might question what made me doubt that it could be a series in the first place. Well, besides just the series being so old and it being so long since the anime ended that it felt a little like wishful thinking, at least three members of the cast said that a new series was not something they were specifically looking to do...I think, anyway. Let me explain.

Last year, on December 9, a Keroro birthday event with Kumiko Watanabe (Keroro), Etsuko Kozakura (Tamama), and Takeshi Kusao (Dororo) was hosted in person and livestreamed on TwitCast for fans that paid for a ticket. There were two timeslots for the in person event, and only the evening show was streamed, with the afternoon one being in person only. Now that I have adult money, and being the impulse driven gremlin that I am, I paid for the virtual ticket. Most of it was just cute little segments like the three cast members doing live commentary on some of the birthday episodes, discussing the results of a “favorite lines from their characters” poll hosted on Twitter a few weeks before the event, and a brief visit from Jashin-chan of Jashin-chan Dropkick/Dropkick on My Devil, a series that Keroro recently collabed with for a series of merchandise. Unfortunately the event wasn't archived publicly and they specifically asked to not upload materials to social media, and I'd like to respect that request mostly out of consideration for the cast, so you will just have to take my word for it :P (besides those who were watching me talk about it in real time on discord).

The reason I'm going on this tangent is because, at the end of the stream, a special prerecorded video featuring the three cast members was shown exclusively for virtual attendees. In it they essentially explained that they still greatly enjoy the characters/series and would love to partake in more events and projects, but "not necessarily a new series." I promise you I listened to this clip over and over the entire time it was available and that's what I heard. Now look, the room they recorded this in was echo-y, and my Japanese is pretty decent (enough for my N2 anyways, yeah I did that while I was away from here clap clap) but listening comprehension is my weaker area, so maybe I just take a massive L here. When I started writing this post there was a sentence here guessing about whether they were just being cheeky or didn’t know yet, but an interview came out last month that gave what’s all but a conclusive answer to that. More on it in the next section but tl;dr, they likely did not know it was happening at all. Well, at least they got to be as surprised as we were :V

Anyways now that the thing has been revealed none of the last two paragraphs even matter, so I just prattled on for no reason besides to admit my own shame. Next bit.

Section 4: SAUCE PLOX??? (Current testimonies from relevant people/entities)

Naturally, when the trailer dropped, we got a pretty decent handful of comments from whatever staff and cast are on social media. Most of these are just people going “yay we’re back hooray!” (paraphrased) but the Keroro PR account statements are actually kinda sorta hints? So I’ll start out with those. There’s two tweets that I want to highlight here:

First is from April 1 (JST), the day of the reveal. In this tweet the account wishes everyone well for the new school/fiscal year, but the important part is the last sentence, This can be translated any number of ways (thanks to yoroshiku onegaishimasu and its 50 potential meanings, every Japanese translator’s worst nightmare), but essentially it’s something along the lines of “we hope you’ll support the restart/resumption of the Keroro anime for a long time to come.”

The keywords here are obvious: 再始動 (saishidou) meaning either restart or resumption. I know you’re probably thinking those are two very different things, but the nuance here is that it’s more of a restart in production than restart of the continuity. For the latter, I think it’s more common to see リメイク, which is just the English word “remake” in katakana. Worth noting that the Flash anime used none of these words in its marketing, but it did use language such as “brand new invasion plan,” “rebirth of Keroro,” and so on…in addition to, you know, having a completely different artstyle and a title change to just “Keroro”, which this clearly does not (the artstyle is relatively faithful to the old one and the project is under the original Keroro Gunso name).

The other big word is 末永く(suenagaku), which…also doesn’t have one exact translation, but implies somewhere between years or even an indefinite period of time. I didn’t want to say a specific unit of time in my translation of the statement because well, we can’t really be sure of anything here, but either way, they’re signaling that they’re most likely in it for the long haul.

Then there’s the tweet from the PR account commemorating the actual anniversary of the original anime (April 3). This one uses 新しいスタート, “new start”—no real multiple definition shenanigans here, this is about as literal and straightforward as you can get. In terms of the reboot or not question, this could lean either way, but it definitely adds to theory that it is a series of some sort.

Okay, that’s all for the individual tweets I’m gonna totally overanalyze, otherwise I’d be stuck here for even longer than I already have been. Here’s a quick list of involved staff who tweeted about the reveal:

Unsurprisingly, Kumiko Watanabe (Keroro) posted that day, reiterating that it is real and saying “believe usssss!” (As a reminder, half the internet was convinced it was April Fools for like a whole week)

Adding to the cast comments, Etsuko Kozakura (Tamama) says, “Whoo-hoo! Can’t wait for more news! Keroro Gunso is still the greatest!!”

Jouji Nakata (Giroro) didn’t make a specific comment about the trailer, but has been retweeting the other official accounts and such and replying about it, so he has acknowledged it otherwise. As a substitute, here’s a picture of him visiting the Keroro Exhbition in Ikebukuro a day early.

Here’s an interesting one—Haruna Ikezawa (Momoka) said about the trailer, “Really?! Is this real?!?!?!” While no cast members outside of the Keroro Platoon were officially revealed to be reprising their roles, I’m assuming they’re going to try their best to reassemble as much of the cast as of season 7 as possible—besides Keiji Fujiwara (Paul/Narrator), who sadly passed away in 2020—so I kind of figured Ikezawa would know about this, but maybe not…? Well, considering that the main five were completely blindsided by this to the point where they weren’t even sure this was a real thing until they were in the middle of recording it (as I said previously, more on that later), I suppose the other cast members were just. Not told. I don’t really doubt Ikezawa would return (she even stated it could happen someday all the way back when the then-final season ended in 2011 and did come back for Flash)…but unless they were like really worried about leaks why even keep them in the dark to learn with the rest of the public, idk man :V (so much for not overanalyzing tweets huh)

On to production staff now, here’s the tweet from Satoshi Koike, animation director of the latter third of the original and also the reveal trailer, indicating that he’s most likely back for the new project. It’s just a simple “Welcome back! (de arimasu)” but the images he used were drawn back in 2019 to commemorate the start of the Reiwa era, spoofing the original lyrics of the first opening. The reveal trailer tweet itself from the Keroro Anime account does this too (“Starting today, the Reiwa era shall be known as the Keroro era!”).

New to the staff is Jouji Furuta (yes we have two Joujis now har har), who did the storyboards and direction for the trailer. He’s relatively new to the scene as a whole, with his most well known project being Shaman King Flowers. Although he never worked on the series before, he did a pretty good job emulating the original, and based on the last line of the tweet, it seems like he will be staying on for the full project as well.

And now for a kind of weird section where I talk about the few related accounts that the Keroro anime twitter is following but haven’t made any kind of verbal acknowledgement yet.

First and foremost is Mine Yoshizaki—you know, the guy who created the fucking series, whose name is on the copyright string and whose explicit permission they had to get to do another anime in the first place? Yeah so it’s been over a month since the reveal now and there has been zero acknowledgement from him. I do know his personal social media account has been inactive for quite a few years now (I feel like the anime account is only even following it for symbolic reasons), but he had multiple other opportunities to say something at this point. He did contribute some signed artwork to the anime-focused exhibition that just ended but nowhere in it does he directly mention the new adaptation, and so far he hasn’t commented on it in Shonen Ace (maybe in the next volume, assuming that’s soonish). I have my theories about his relationship to the anime, especially now that the Kemono Friends fiasco has occurred, but that’s all a story for another day or never. I’m sure he’ll contribute something later, but even so it’s just really bizarre to have nothing to say about your biggest creation’s first new adaptation in over a decade. Oh well.

Character designer Fumitoshi Oizaki, who has been around since the beginning if I remember correctly, has been retweeting things, but no official comment just yet. (He discretely left a message at the expo apparently, but didn’t post it online, so no idea if it mentions the new anime.) He isn’t credited on the trailer, but considering he’s still been pretty involved with the franchise’s promotion over the last few years, I would be very surprised if he wasn’t returning.

Last but certainly not least is Junichi Sato, the chief director for the original anime for the first two seasons, arguably its most well-known and critically praised era. He’s also a very notable director in his own right, having headed other famous series like early Sailor Moon and Ojamajo Doremi. Sato didn’t direct the original anime for the majority of its runtime (though he did direct the first four movies), but he still directs and storyboards on projects to this day, including for other franchises’ major anniversaries (namely Doremi and Precure). Though not certain, I think it’s very possible that he returns for this in some capacity, if not as director than perhaps for storyboarding or general advising.

To close out the testimony section, I’m going to share here the translation I did of the aforementioned interview with Kumiko Watanabe in last month’s issue of Newtype (anime-centric magazine published by Kadokawa). I won’t re-summarize it here since it’s not particularly long, but the main takeaways from this in terms of hints as to what we can expect are that a) the cast was surprised by this and potentially didn’t even know back in December when they last discussed the possibility of working on Keroro again, and b) as I previously speculated, this is going to be a long term enough project that at least Watanabe feels the need to physically prepare for it lol. And thankfully, it seems they’re all excited to go back to the series. I spent a long time thinking they might not be up to it again since it’s been so long and they’re much later in their lives/careers (Nakata just turned 70 oh man) but I’m glad I was wrong! Though I don’t expect this to be another 300 episode commitment anyway; in spite of the PR comments I don’t think we’re going for that long with the nature of anime production these days lmao.

And now for a topic which I think many of you are concerned about…

Section 5: “But what if my 日本語 is not 上手???” (The Localization Question)

If you did not get the joke in the above headline without looking it up, it’s probably safe to assume that if you want to watch this Thing, you will need it in a language other than Japanese (and even if you did get the joke you will know if you are truly 日本語上手 when people stop saying 日本語上手 to you). I’m going to focus on English for this post since that’s the primary language of the audience here, though I would be very shocked if there isn’t at minimum a Korean translation—dub more likely than sub imo, since the most famous version of the show there had different names for the characters and was changed to be set in Korea, and the series is HUGE there to the point where it almost rivals the Japanese market.

So, English. Well, if it were a few years ago (say, if this came during the 15th anniversary like I was originally coping over), I would be markedly less optimistic about getting any official translation at all. At that time, the dub was explicitly dead and the only English sub had been delisted for a few years, and even that was only available in a select few countries in Continental Europe on a pretty obscure streaming service called Viewster for like a year or two before getting pulled. It’s no surprise that this particular sub eventually became more well known as the subs on the torrents compiled by ColdFusion (whoever that was, I’m still not sure myself). That was until…

…the magical year of 2021, when our heroes at Discotek licensed the ENTIRE SERIES (minus the movies) for an official English release using Viewster’s existing translations! That’s right, we got all of it. And not only that, the whole series was also added to Crunchyroll, though only the sub; Discotek had the Funimation dub but it seems it did not get ported to Crunchyroll when the merger happened this year. It does seem that Crunchy has still not made the series available outside of the US and Canada, which is a shame, but man is it still surreal to have the entire series legally available both digitally and physically after nearly two decades of scattered fansubs and hardly accessible official releases. Surely this was a huge win for Discotek, right?

Weeeeeell…no. Of course they weren’t able to say it out loud, but it’s been extremely heavily implied that unfortunately the BluRay/DVD releases flopped for them, and they did say they definitely won’t be getting the movies or the Flash series. They also stopped releasing the discs on a one season a year basis and started bundling them together, with seasons 5–7 coming out all at once later this year, so they’re clearly trying to just get it off their plates. To be honest, this was pretty predictable because…it’s been on Crunchyroll since before the discs even came out. Look, physical media is super cool and all, but who in this economy is going to pay $40-60 per box for a handful of seasons at most when they can get the whole damn thing on their phone for like $8 a month. Crunchyroll isn’t necessarily a disc killer; their release of Digimon Adventure, for example, still seemingly did well despite that series being available on Crunchyroll two years prior, but in addition to Digimon being more popular in the west, it’s one $60 purchase for the whole series versus having to spend like over $200 for 358 episodes. I applaud them for rolling the dice and trying to get this behemoth of a release out there, but I’m not surprised about the lack of financial returns.

However, since Crunchyroll now has set a precedent of having the original series available on their platform, we just might get the new series available on there as well—if not as a simulsub, then at least dropped in batches later on. I’m not 100% confident in this, particularly because technically Discotek still holds the license, but my guess based on the way they’ve talked about the series is that they’re pretty open to someone else taking it off their hands when they’re done releasing the original series (and the translations weren’t originally theirs to begin with anyways, they purchased them and did some touch-ups to the existing translation with added typesetting). As far as simulsubs go, the kids’ shows that get simulsubbed tend to be from Toei, with whom Crunchyroll has a known partnership. But if it is split into cours rather than being a year-round anime, I think the chances of a simulsub go up. Whatever the case may be, it’s for sure in a better position to get an official subtitled release than it ever was before. I’m certainly praying this happens because I believe most of the people capable of fansubbing (with good translation anyway) have gradually moved away from the fandom over the last decade for various reasons—myself included, though mostly I just quit fansubbing/scanlation in general for Personal Reasons(TM). Fingers crossed, everyone.

So subs remain as a not-guaranteed-but- definitely-not-low possibility. But what about a dub? If you recall, Keroro has had a very rocky history in 3D with English dubs, with the American dub being in licensing hell for years before finally falling into Funimation’s lap and subsequently failing to take off despite remaining a beloved cult classic to Some Fans (I am not as high on it, but longtime Kirb followers probably know that by now), and the only other English dub is relegated to the network Animax in Hong Kong + Southeast Asia with no official home release, leaving all of it besides parts of seasons 3 and 4 as lost media (and the voice acting sucked ass but at least the script was accurate). But we’re not in the mid 2000s to early 2010s anymore; this is the screamin’ ’20s, baby! So much anime is getting dubbed now, sometimes at almost the same time as the Japanese release! There must be a chance, right?!

Eeeehhhhhh I wouldn’t bet on it. Even the Toei kids’ shows Crunchyroll started simulsubbing usually don’t get dubs (Digimon is an exception, and the reboot’s dub took YEARS to come out). Anime dubs, as far as I’m aware, are not cheap to produce (though it’d be great if more of what the companies are pocketing went to the actors’ wages >_>), and if the show does have the potential to become somewhat of a long runner, I think they’ll need to see more interest around the IP to fund one, and both Funimation and now Discotek’s releases have proved that the audience for it isn’t always there. I also speculate they’d be doing a lot of recasting; the casting process is not as smooth and (I believe) more expensive than it is in Japan, and a lot of the original cast are not working as often in the field anymore and/or have been involved with some pretty serious controversies—I’m sure those in the know are thinking of a specific drawn-out conflict but I’m pretty sure it’s more than just About Him at this point. So let’s just say that while some of the cast still remembers the show fondly, I think trying to get them all in the same project again would potentially open some cans of worms better off left closed. It’s not 100% impossible it gets dubbed, you never know what the industry can manage to make work these days, but I’d wager it’s like 90% not happening. Just a hunch. If anyone more knowledgable than me on anime localization (this goes for both the dub and sub stuff) would like to argue me with better explanations than I have I’d very much be glad to hear it.

Section 6: The Stuff That Doesn’t Fit Elsewhere + Final Thoughts

There’s not going to be any real organization to this section. Here’s just some bullets of miscellaneous stream of consciousness thoughts related to whatever:

The character bios page on the site linked in section 3 has some WEIRD romanization choices. I don’t expect these to reflect on any official localization because chances are they’ll go with what Viewster used, which is largely what the fandom is used to besides the Kululu/Kururu split. It is indeed Kululu here and Kululu has been the de facto official spelling for a very very long time now but I still have a personal preference for Kururu because “Kululu” loses the onomatopoeia joke and I’m a rebel. But like. “Tololo”? Since when has Tororo ever been called that in any media? And worst of all, “Pole”? POLE?? That’s literally never been a thing what glossary did they pull these from.

Also worth noting, Alisa and the Narrator had merchandise sold at the Keroro expo (will talk about that next btw) despite not being on the characters page. This isn’t a confirmation of anything but I would be very surprised if Alisa doesn’t return at some point since she was pretty prominent later in the show and Yoshizaki seems to have a particular fondness for her, and the Narrator will obviously be there with a recast, though jury’s out on if his little ’sona guy will show up too. It won’t be the same without Fujiwara :(

I do want to touch upon the “Keroro expo”, officially known as the “Keroro Gunso Super Gerogero Museum” (expo is a fine shorthand because the Japanese word can mean exhibition also), since I’ve mentioned it a couple times throughout this write-up. This was an event that was held in Ikebukuro just recently from April 27–May 12 that was basically a walkthrough experience recreating settings from the anime, having artwork and stuff sprinkled in between (all reused, no new concept art or anything sadly). The main gimmick was that the venue had an exclusive app that let you take AR pictures with models of the Keroro Platoon. It also had an AI chatbot feature where you could talk to each member of the platoon, and not too many posted pictures of this feature but apparently the chatbots were uhhhhhh weird. I have no idea how much of it is generative from other LLMs, and I’m assuming they programmed it at least partially with their own original input/databases (which is the only way to make generative AI even close to ethical), but from the few screenshots I’ve seen their speech was just a little bit awkward and some of the stuff they said was really bizarre. At one point users started to turn it into an otome game and successfully romanced the frogs, which I’m assuming is a little bit out of the bounds of what they were expecting from this experiment. If they do release that app publicly at some point—they labeled the version at the expo to be a “test version,” so maybe—I sincerely hope they at least fine tune it because Good Lord. Finally and maybe most importantly, there were new voice lines recorded for the exhibit to give it an audio-drama type simple story, but unfortunately it was probably not archived because video recording was not allowed inside the venue. The platoon all had new voice lines along with Fuyuki and Natsumi, reportedly still played by Houko Kuwashima and Chiwa Saito respectively, so most likely they will return to reprise the roles for the new anime, though I don’t think those two were much in question. That’s really like the only important part of this for the purposes of this post I’m not sure why I mentioned anything else here actually. AI chatbot Dororo wants you to know he enjoys tickles from Giroro and Tamama. Yeah this thing’s a little fucked

I didn’t want to get too deep into this in section 3 because it’s not really a production related question, but…are Shin Keroro and related new characters gonna be in this or not? For what it’s worth the site seems to count the Flash series as part of the anniversary celebration, and screenshots with Shin in them are there even if he is completely absent from the character page. Flash was a total reboot so I don’t think it will be that exact iteration of the character if he is in the new anime, but there must be some way to work his stuff into the existing anime canon even with its many differences from the manga. Honestly I think the main obstacle to him appearing is just that the guy is not very popular lol. He’s hardly in the manga anymore and Tomosu and Myou are in it even less. I’m not sure if it was just franchise fatigue following the end of the anime but the reception to Shin was very meh across the board (at least among longtime fans, kids might’ve liked him I think. Which makes sense). So I could totally see them skipping him entirely. There’s still a lot of post-anime manga-only stories without his involvement at all, some that included him but he could easily be changed to some other character, and for the stories that revolved around him, well, the Flash anime got to a decent amount of them. This could really go either way but for now I’m going to lean toward him not being included. If he’s put in I think it will not be until the “second season” (whatever the definition of that ends up being) so we can be eased back in to the existing cast first before shaking things up significantly.

I like the new artstyle, assuming it carries over from the trailer to the final project. It looks like they hit a happy medium between the early and late artstyles of the original anime. This is the most obvious with the human cast who haven’t received new official artwork by Koike and/or Oizaki in a looooong time, and they look much better than the last time we saw them in season 7 where everyone got weirdly lanky for some reason.

Okay FINALLY I’m done here for now I think. At the time of writing we’re pretty much just in a “wait and see” phase with no other real concrete info around that I haven’t touched upon in this post. Trust me, I’ve tried digging for more, but I couldn’t find anything really interesting staff-wise and very few of the staff credited in the trailer are even on social media (sometimes staff can be a bit loose-lipped so it’s possible to get hints there). I’ve also checked every nook and cranny of the official sites of both animation studios and the companies on the production committee and turned up with nothing of note. I’m hoping we get some more info at least sometime between now and autumn.

Thanks for reading all the way to the end (or speedscrolling here, don’t worry I won’t be disappointed lol). I hope you found it informative even though I probably spent way too much time yapping about dumb shit. It took me entirely too long to write this post, but I don’t have as much time as I did as a teenager and it’s been a good few years since I’ve done a really deep dive into Keroro stuff. Needless to say, I’m beyond excited for this project and can’t wait to see how the last seven years of me huffing unhealthy amounts of copium pays off. I’ve had like a month and a half to sit on it now and it honestly still doesn’t feel real!

I will most likely return to report when we get some amount of substantial info—hopefully with way fewer words lmao. Until next time! Ge-gero~