#but now they firmly belong in the “protect these children” gang

[penultimatestalematewithdeath]

I've been going through the Charlie Bone series like "ah yes, Tancrid and Lysander are much older than Charlie; they must be at least fourteen in the first book" only to find out in book four that they're only in third year when Charlie starts his second year? They're like, 11 or 12!?! Who is letting these preteen kids think they're supposed to be the responsible ones???

[moo-blogging]

Happy holidays to you all lovely people, here's some spicy Levi thoughts for you (EXCEPT FOR CHILDREN, GO WATCH DIGIMON OR SOMETHING):

Young, thug Levi angry f-king you because he was jealous:

It was not like you and Levi were in a relationship. You did see each other and sleep in each other's houses from time to time. You were not officially a thing but it was not like you are seeing other people too. You just hit it naturally.

One day, Levi saw you having dinner with the merchant's son from the surface. He booked an entire restaurant and asked his private chef to cook for you. You sold fake alcohol to his father and Levi provided protection for them whenever they visited the Underground. Levi knew the son had an eye for you.

But this was not in his agenda. The son was being protected by another thug gang and you were wearing your sleeveless tops with a short tight skirt that showed your thighs. You saw Levi watching you from the rooftop but you acted like you did not see him and continued the dinner. You were sure Levi was pissed.

But when the son asked you to sleep with him, you told him that you sell fake alcohol, not your body. And you left after you take the last drag of the expensive wine he brought from the surface.

.

When you slammed the door shut and bolted the door, you turned to see a familiar silhouette in the dark living room. You rolled your eyes and lit the lamp by the door.

"The fuck you sit in the dark for?" you blew the match off.

Levi did not turn, "so now you're sleeping for money, huh? Like a whore?"

You set the lamp on the coffee table and dropped your belongings onto the floor. Pulling your tops off your head, you replied, "yea, why? Do I need your permission to sleep with someone else? I'm not yours, Levi."

Just as your vision cleared when your tops was off your face, Levi was inches from your face. You jolted in shock, but Levi pushed you onto the sofa. You fell face first onto the seat, and Levi pinned you down from behind.

"You're mine and only mine, Y/N," you heard Levi unbuckling his belt. "Imma fuck you until you remember that."

You felt the cool air on your butt cheeks as Levi pushed your skirt up and pulled your panties to the side. You tried to protest, "wai-," but Levi pushed his hardened penis into your hole.

You screamed in pain and you squeezed your inside in response. Levi pulled your upper body up and lean you against the backrest of the sofa. Your body was shaking as you adjust to his size. He unclipped your bra and grabbed your chest. He pinched your hardened nipples as he bit into your neck.

Your heart was palpitating quickly and you were panting from the shock. You could feel your hole squeezing and releasing on itself as you adjust to his size. With Levi's big, rough palms on massaging your breasts, you could feel yourself getting heated.

"Levi.." you moaned his name. He licked the side of your neck before sucking your skin. You moaned again.

Levi released one of your breasts, and pushed two of his fingers into your opened mouth. You sucked on his fingers before he pulled out. With his wet fingers, he massaged your sensitive bean above your hole. With just a brush of his fingers, your body jolted with pleasure. Using his knees, Levi spread your legs and your hips were against his body. His fingers were moving in circles, rubbing your bean. An electric shock of pleasure zapped from your lower body to your brain, and your first instinct was to grab his hand. But Levi moved faster. He grabbed yours with his other hand and secured them by your neck.

You groaned in pleasure. You couldn't help but rub your ass on Levi's body. You felt your hole had loosen up and your walls were lubricated by your and Levi's precum. Levi felt it too.

"Fuck, you're so horny," Levi pressed your body onto the headrest of the sofa, your knees buried deep in the sofa. He had his palms on your hips firmly. And he pulled out his hardened penis from your hole before slamming deep into you again. Your eyes rolled as his cock rubbed on your walls and hit into your sweet spot so good. You screamed, but Levi did not give you time to enjoy.

He continued thrusting his hip, pulling back and slamming into you again and again. The pressure of your bodies hitting together and the wet noises from your lower body overtaken your head. Your eyes were rolled into the back of your empty head as your body was overstimulated with pleasure with every thrust. Your fingers dug into the sofa, knees shaking, threatening to give way but Levi's thighs were supporting yours upright.

Weak moans escaped your throats as your mouth left agape. Your head was blank and your closed your eyes when you cummed. You could feel the warm wetness between your legs, and Levi groaned as he felt it too.

"Shi'-" Levi pulled out and cummed on your lower back. You were panting, sucking in mouthful of air. Your body was still numb with pleasure and excitement, but Levi wouldn't let you rest.

He pushed you, back first, onto the sofa and folded your knees to your chest. "Levi! Wait!' you cried.

But Levi wouldn't listen. He pushed himself into your swollen and red hole, and started fucking you hard again. You clenched your hole involuntarily as you threw your head back, moaned in pleasure. Levi lifted himself up and slammed into you deeper. You screamed.

Levi grabbed one of your breasts, "yes, scream! Scream my name! Let them know I fuck you good!" Levi bent over to suck your nipple. Your were attacked with two pleasure points at once. One on your nipple and one between your legs, and you couldn't focus on which one was better. You were overstimulated. You could think of nothing but Levi, so you screamed his name over and over.

Levi's cock penetrating your wet walls and hitting your sweet spot made you cummed so many times your lower body was wet with body fluid. Your body was having involuntary spasm, and Levi knew you were at your limit.

He grabbed your face and crashed into your lips harshly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You were fighting his tongue with yours but you lost. Levi pulled away, and whispered, "I'll make you cum until I say stop."

With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched your clit. Your overstimulated body went overboard, and your body jerked in response. You cummed so hard your body was shaking. Levi pulled out his penis and ejected his warm fluid onto your tummy.

He then collapsed onto you, his head resting on your shoulder. You both laid there for a while, panting for air. Your warm and slimy bodies slowly intertwined as you wrapped your arms around his back. After a while, you felt light kisses on your shoulder. Levi was kissing your skin gently.

He slowly went up your neck. You tilted your head and met his lips with yours. Your lips locked, sucking on each other hungrily, tongues dueling each other. You both pulled back at the same time, staring at each other with half closed eyes.

Levi swallowed and said, "be mine, Y/N. Because I'm already yours."

You echoed, "I'm already yours, Levi."

[mofieroll]

Cloud Nine (Giorno Giovanna x F!Reader)

A Post!VA Giorno Giovanna x Reader one shot where you meet him after being separated in childhood, and bond with his gang.

AU: Everybody Lives

Word Count: 5.4k

The rustling of papers, followed by a scribbling of pen, engulfed the room of a busy man. Daylight and wind coming from the balcony and windows helped him read through the documents with no problem. It was a nice sunny day, but it's nothing special for someone flooded with loads of work and responsibilities.

Since the day they defeated Diavolo, the previous evil boss of Passione, a mafia organization that stands at the top in Italy, and had his high-ranking position taken, the new boss made sure to achieve his justified dream and clean up the dirty mess in the organization. It was easier said than done: starting from removing and adding new rules, stopping operations that involved children and drugs, proving that he's worthy of being Passione's boss — as someone who has taken down a powerful boss with a heart of gold, he won't be one to use violent means to gain respect unless thoroughly provoked —, protecting himself against loyal followers of Diavolo, and many things that can either be said or is trivial in the mafia world.

That's just a gist of the work of Gang-STAR, Giorno Giovanna, and he's glad that he doesn't need to look out for his back because of his resilient comrades that he shared influencial goodness with.

“Giorno, Mista called me to meet you. I say, this must be something serious,” A man with straight bowl cut and gold pins wearing a black and gold suit entered after receiving permission to enter Giorno's office, “Are you going to send me somewhere?”

Giorno placed the documents and his pen aside, looking up to the man as he leaned his arms on his table, “Yes, although, it's a simple task.” He pushed a folder, which he got from a drawer, across the table for the other man to see.

The man took the folder and read the papers inside as he noted of the important details, “This is.. a profile of a girl and her father who's a well-known government official. For what exact reason did you show me this?”

“You should've known, Bucciarati. Of course we'd be babysitting that girl,” A man with long purple hair and lips who had a goth style entered, “Sorry not sorry for barging in, Giorno,” He lazily said as he walked to the two men on the table, the mentioned latter only nodding at him, “You could stop hiding now, Narancia. Giorno said it's okay for us to go in.”

“Eh? Are you sure, Abbacchio?” Another man, who seemed to be more fitting of the word best boy, peeked from the outside of the door, his orange headband being the most noticeable, “I didn't hear Giorno say something since we came here earlier!”

“Clean your ears, didn't you hear him talk to Bucciarati?” Abbacchio replied.

Giorno looked at Bucciarati as a demand of explanation, “We had hesitations on knocking, Giorno. It makes sense that you're busy and we wouldn't want to disturb you, especially since you haven't left this room for days.” He received, making him nod in understanding.

Narancia had now entered the room, reading the folder and sitting on the couch with Abbacchio as Bucciarati sat on one of the chairs in front of Giorno's table, “So, you're saying that I'll be bringing her to you from the airport, and that's it?” Bucciarati asked with ceased brows, receiving a quiet nod from the blonde.

“It doesn't make one hell of a sense. So what if she's the daughter of a politician? That doesn't make her special to have the mafia as her bodyguards,” Abbacchio raised a brow at Giorno, snatching the folder from Narancia's hold and slid it on the coffee table, “THAT doesn't make her special to have YOU as her bodyguard, Giorno.” He pointed out, resting his back on the couch with crossed arms like an angry dad.

Narancia scratched his head with a scrunched nose, “Isn't it exactly what makes her special? Being a child of a famous politician is no joke, so it'd be safer for them to have the mafia on their side, right?” He asked in confusion, making Abbacchio glance at him with an ��I know that, idiot’ look.

Bucciarati cleared his throat, “What Abbacchio and Narancia's trying to say is, we understand that her life is on the line because she'll be alone for a whole month here in Italy, but why does it have to be you, Giorno, that has to take care of her? You have better things to do as Passione's new boss, we could easily do it for you.” He told Giorno who was expectant of their questions.

“That is not what I—”

“Yeah, totally! It's like how we did with Trish, you know? Oh, we could just take her to Trish too, Giorno! Girls have this thing for each other—”

Narancia stopped himself after receiving a warning glance from the capo, and also realizing that he was face-to-face with his boss. This is work they're talking about. Chats, even if it's with his closest friends, aren't welcome right now.

“I understand your concerns, Abbacchio, Bucciarati. And thank you for the suggestion, Narancia, but I've already decided that she'll be staying with me. I trust that she won't be much of a nuisance than we think she would be, so my significant work for Passione won't get disturbed. There is absolutely no reason to worry,” Giorno glanced at Bucciarati, “I would only need Bucciarati to bring her to me, and that will be all. You don't need to get involved, Abbacchio.”

“You made it sound like you know her well, Giorno. But since you gave me permission not to care, that's what I'll be doing. You have my thanks.” Abbacchio stood up and raised his hands, making a roll motion on one before he bowed and had the three men watch him leave the room.

Narancia did not follow the long-haired man, and instead firmly sat on the couch with a pout on his face, “Is there something you want to tell me, Narancia?” Giorno asked, figuring that the boy had an unspoken thought in his mind.

Bucciarati excused himself, bowing before he says that he'll be preparing the car. Narancia waited for him to leave before jumping from the couch to the seat in front of Giorno's table, who had been waiting for him to speak up.

“This is my only chance now that the oldies are out of the way— Giorno, can I go with Bucciarati?” He asked after preventing the chair from falling. Giorno nodded, “Then— can we hang with her? Like if she's with you and stuff? I'm.. kind of missing Trish so..”

Right, of course Narancia would be excited that a girl would be bonding with them again even if it's not Trish, who moved somewhere in Italy to continue and enjoy the life she deserved. Giorno saw no harm in letting his group connect with you, so he nodded once again.

Narancia grinned, jumping from the chair to the ground with a fist above. He faced Giorno to bow, almost reaching the floor, and ran to the door as he regained his energy. Giorno felt himself smile, silently glad that he got through an adventure with the same people that he's with now.

“Ah, thanks Giorno! You're the best boss! We'll be sure to bring [Y/N] safe!”

[Y/N].. [Y/N] [L/N]. The name of someone who he thought he'd never see again. Someone he met as Giorno, but kept calling him Haruno because she thought he'd remember him better if she does. Now that he recalls it, more flashbacks of you came into mind, driving him to have a break from work and chill on the balcony. He leaned on the fence and observed the garden below him.

You were a childhood friend of Giorno's that he met here in Italy. You belonged to a wealthy family who had connections to the people on the upper hierarchy, consisting of an overwhelming line of successful politicians. When he knew of this, he was already your bestfriend who you invited to hang out at your family mansion, and there he felt at home more than he did at his own. Your mother was a simple and humble woman while your father was the tough and thoughtful kind. Giorno saw for himself how you managed to be sweet yet cunning at the same time — you often scared off his bullies —, making him develop a puppy crush on you at the age of eight.

Everything was going well with you and your family on his side, your father privately scaring his father if he intended to hurt him more, your mother trying to make his mother understand that he needs proper loving and care. But then, it had to end. For a reason unknown to him and yourself, your family had to move to another country, and that's with no proper goodbyes.

It's not really the time to be melancholic, you're coming back at Italy after all. How did he even know of you and your family's whereabouts if you were gone in his life for a decade now? Simple, because if the boss of Passione aims to achieve something, he'll use his available resources to get it. Relating that to you, he'd say that connecting with your family and meeting you again was his goals, and he's proud that he overcame it. After speaking to your father and proving to him that he's to be trusted with your well-being and safety, he was informed that your father will be sending you to Italy for vacation. Your father even thanked him for appearing in the right time, saying that he wouldn't want you to be completely alone with strangers when he and her wife's away for work, and that you would be happier with him.

Technically, you'd be alone with strangers if you're with him too — his diverse gang crossing his mind —, but did your father mean it when he said you'd be happier with him? He didn't tell your father what he does in his life now, and that just proves how much he's trusted by the [L/N]s.

But will you trust him if you learn that he's the boss of a mafia organization? Yes, it's nonsense to doubt you. What matters is that you get to spend time together once more.

You're still his biggest crush and his first love now, after all.

—

You crouched outside the airport, your backpack resting in front of your chest as you faced your sunglasses on the back of your head. You know you looked ridiculous, but the boredom of waiting for Haruno had striked you. You arrived thirty minutes earlier, expecting that he'd be early too, but the cute familiar black-haired Japanese wasn't in sight. You were starting to think that your papa tricked you so that he could have your mama alone, but that didn't sound right for middle-aged people like them. Plus, why did they have to send you back here at your hometown just so you could be safe? Well, they obviously didn't know that you could take care of yourself with the help of your.. psh. None of it made sense, but since it's free vacation you're talking about, you just brushed off the complains.

“Excuse me, Signora, but are you [Y/N] [L/N]?”

A deep voice spoke from beside you, making you flinch in surprise. You could've sworn that the voice you heard was sexy, but what you saw when you looked up at the person beside you was much more sexier. You don't remember Italian men being this beautiful, “Yes! And you are?” You jumped to your feet, gulping as you stood in front of the man, “You aren't Haruno, are you?”

“Haruno..?” The man repeated and shook his head, “Sorry to disappoint, but no. My name is Bruno Bucciarati, a friend of Giorno Giovanna. I take it he's.. Haruno?”

You sounded an ‘oh..’ before nodding. You wanted to ask why he's here instead of your childhood friend, but you just waited for him to explain, not wanting to come off as rude.

“Alright, then you must be confused as to why I'm here instead of him?” He asked like he read your mind, making you nod, “I'll be brief for now, is that okay?” He asked again and you gave a pursed smile in return, noticing how he acknowledges your comfort, “Hm, to start off, Giorno has a busy work. It mostly takes away all his time, including now, so we volunteered to fetch you here and bring you to him.”

You were about to ask where he is now and what work does he do but you did not, thinking it must be private, “Is that so, Bucciarati? Thank you for your time, but you didn't have to do this! I could just wait until he's.. uh, free and not busy!” You smiled, “Besides, I'd be pretty jetlagged anytime now.. you could go with your friend and if it's no biggie, tell Haruno he shouldn't worry about me! I'll be here for a whole month anyways,” You convinced.

Bucciarati noted how you told him to go with his friend, connecting it with how he said ‘they’ volunteered. You're a perceptive one, huh? Abbacchio must be right, Giorno knows you very well, and that fact is enough for him to let you be the closest to him. You had to be someone Giorno's familiar with for him to guard you himself, someone who has to be special to him.

He smiled back at you, “I'm sure Giorno would love your company, Signora. Won't you be staying with him?”

And with that, Bucciarati had you speechless. He had reminded you that you'll be living with Haruno as a safety measure. It sounded cute when it came from your papa because he still saw both of you as kids, but now that you know that he works for a living, the realization that he's matured mentally and.. physically had hit you. The excitement of meeting him again didn't let the realization cross your mind when you agreed to living with him here.

But again, it's your best childhood friend you're talking about, so no complains.

You now sat on a couch of what seemed to be an office after the ride with Bucciarati and his other friends Narancia and Mista. You almost decided to have a happy crush on Bucciarati, especially on how soft he was around you, but you backed it off after meeting the other two who just had the most chaotic energies you aspired to have. You learned from Mista that Narancia struggled with mathematics so you told him that you could help him, while you noticed on the former that he had a pistol with him so you asked him if he could teach you sometimes, both offers being ecstatically agreed to. The plans for your vacation were going well, but you still haven't met Haruno. Sucks that you've been told to stay and wait at the room you're in without the candidates of who's going to be your vacation crush.

As you searched inside your bag, a person entered the room, “I'm sorry for making you wait, I went outside to buy food for us.” Thinking that the person was one of the first three you met, you didn't looked up and continued searching, only saying ‘It's fine!’.

The person, who happened to be Giorno, had three boxes of pizza and two tubs of ice cream in his arms. It was whack food for his reuniting with you, but he knows that you won't be having the energy to eat at a fancy restaurant right now. He'd be sure to take you in one, though.

He placed the foods on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite of where you were, trying to have a proper look of your face. You had your natural [H/C] covering it though, your bowed head making it even impossible for him. He sat properly and faked a cough, at that you had already found what you were looking for.

You lifted your head, but unfortunately, the photo you were holding hid your face. Is he being teased right now?

On the other hand, you were smiling and admiring the photo. It had an image of you and Haruno, both your arms hanging on each other's necks as you cheekily grinned and he had a smile, your head resting on his. It was just one of the mementos you had, a lot of stuffs stored back at your room. Looking back makes you feel warm everytime, but it could be better if you met Haruno right now.

Giorno faked a cough once again, and you peeked, quickly putting back the photo inside after you saw a new.. face. He wore a black and green suit that bared his chest as he had his usual hairstyle, his long blonde hair tied into a fish braid while his hair's brim were rolled into three. Giorno was looking “mhm!” and you had to deny it, aiming not to embarrass yourself.

You placed your backpack beside you and fixed your sitting position, “Ah.. sorry, I thought you were someone I already met. I'm [Y/N] [L/N], do you own this place? Bucciarati and the others told me to wait here for Haruno, I could wait somewhere else if you want!”

It was a given that he'd be unrecognizable because of his hair and brows turning blonde, but Giorno had widened his eyes, shocked for one fact: you called him Haruno.

“Uhm.. hey? I'm sorry again. I'll just go wait outside now, thank you!” You were fast on clinging your bag to your shoulders and hurrying to the door, but not fast enough for the Giorno Giovanna with you. Before you could open the door, Giorno went beside you and held your wrist with a firm grip.

Giorno gulped the slump in his throat, “It's me, [Y/N],” He started, confusing you, “Haruno.. Haruno Shiobana.”

You dropped your backpack upon hearing this, a surprised face on you, “W-what? But.. he isn't.. are you.. no, there's no reason for you to do that. Is it.. really you? Like.. my Haruno Shiobana? My Giorno? My GioGio?” You held his shoulders and shook his taller form, your voice becoming more and more loud as you asked his names.

Giorno let out a tranced chuckle as he looked at your eyes, seeing your eyes express your excitement. Oh, how much he missed those, “Yes, [Y/N]. It's me, your Haruno.”

That was the confirmation you needed to finally burst out, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you jumped, “Can I.. can I hug you?” You politely asked, knowing how sensitive he can be to physical affection, and he slowly nodded.

You stomped your feet as a wide smile formed on your face, your eyes starting to well up tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck after you admired his beauty, locking him in a lodged hug, “I-I can't believe how much you've outgrown me! And blonde hair?! Are you kidding me?! It looks perfect on you! You were the cutest back then but now— I don't even know how to begin! Puberty hit you like an airplane crash when I'm here looking like a potato sack! You're really unfair, Haruno!”

Giorno had one of his rarest smiles on his face because of your adorable outburst, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you back. You described yourself so wrong when your form and your charming personality wouldn't even have that as an option of definition. He lovingly rubbed your back, trying to soothe you as he felt warm tears on his shoulder, “Shh.. I wouldn't even dare challenge your own alluring beauty, cara.”

Unbeknownst to Giorno who was indulged in your hug though, a part of him was up and willing to challenge you.

His Stand, Gold Experience Requiem or GER, manifested behind him and on the side where you placed your head. Feeling a presence of someone, you looked up with quivering lips, gasping as your eyes laid on a gold humanoid floating behind Giorno. You stepped back and pulled the man with you, pointing to the humanoid, “H-Haruno! Look out!”

Giorno changed your position and pushed you behind him out of fighting instinct, giving him a decent look on his sentient Stand, “GER? [Y/N].. you can see it?” He turned to look at you and you nodded, “You're a Stand User too.. I didn't know about that.”

Giorno led you to the couch with GER behind him and sat beside you, explaining to you what a Stand is. You were glad to know that you weren't the only one with an ability who had a form that no one else around your home sees, so when he asked you to show your Stand, you confidently called for its name. It manifested behind you, its head resting on your shoulder. Giorno, as the sweetheart that he is to you, complimented it before asking its ability. As you were explaining your Stand's ability, both of your and Giorno's Stands now faced and admired each other's forms behind the couch.

“Stand Users attract each other, huh? That's neat.”

Abbacchio, who had his red and green headphones and his eyes closed, stood by the now opened door with crossed arms. Your Stands weren't bothered by the disturbance and just kept staring at each other while you and Giorno had your attention on the man.

“I-I'm sorry, would you like to join us? You must be Haruno's friend too, it would be great if we all got along, wouldn't it? He actually bought too much pizza so..” You informed after hesitating. You walked up to the door, Giorno following you while he had his eyes glued on Abbacchio, ready to warn him not to be rude to you, “I'm [Y/N] [L/N], and you must be?”

Abbacchio opened an eye and saw his boss' firm look. He clicked his tongue and pushed himself from leaning to face you, “Leone Abbacchio.”

Giorno softened when you turned to face him with a cheerful smile, “Haruno, can we call the others? Pizza and ice cream is better when shared, yeah?”

Abbacchio observed Giorno carefully, and he never thought he'd see him go all soft and protective just for a woman. The way he looked at you was different, like he adored everything about you and every word you say. Yet, this was the same Giorno who stepped out of his league to achieve his impossibly deadly dream. Giorno Giovanna never fails to surprise him, it seems.

“Yes, of course, as long as you're comfortable. I'll call them, you should go sit while you wait,” Giorno stepped aside, leting you walk back to the couch and join the staring contest between the Stands. He faced Abbacchio, “You should go sit with her, Abbacchio. How about you try to see if she's as special as I think she is?”

Abbacchio smirked on Giorno's challenge. He won't be able to use his old trick without a tea set available, but that isn't to say he doesn't have any more up his dress sleeves, “It's my pleasure, Don Giorno.”

Oblivious to Giorno's hands behind him, you caught his signal that both of you invented when you were children. It was made just for fun, usually used when you two hung out at your home and had nothing to do except to troll your parents and the helpers. It was fun seeing them get utterly confused with your and Giorno's antics, maybe it won't be so bad to have a little trip to nostalgia.

And needless to say, it was a fun trip, not just for you and Giorno, but for the whole gang, after seeing Abbacchio get his peach handed back to him from you. You had doubts if you should do that one prank you devised long ago against a man who looked like he knew of your deepest secrets, but it was successful nonetheless. The others got back to the office while you were doing it, and like they were used to the tense atmosphere caused by harmless waggery, they waited for the big reveal of who'll be the embarrassed and the victor. In this case, Abbacchio lost, hissing as he almost flipped the table in dismay, and you won, leaning on the arm of the couch as you made two peace signs and crossed your arms, a smug grin and black sunglasses on your face — which your Stand mimicked — while Narancia and Mista screamed behind you, the Sex Pistols jumping up and down your body as Aerosmith flew around. Bucciarati sat beside Abbacchio, calming him down, and Giorno was standing at the other end of your couch, smiling in amusement at them and in awe with you.

It has only been hours since you've met the gang, but the bonding was one of those spent with close friends. You felt at home with them, especially when Giorno's around, and they also did with you. Because of their experience with Trish, they had been inclined to thinking that guarding you isn't something of professional duty, although Giorno had thought of that from the start.

You were now laying and dozing off on the couch, the jetlag and drained energy getting to you. Giorno sat on the floor beside you, watching you as you slept peacefully.

Mista crouched beside Giorno as the others cleaned up, “Yo, boss. Shouldn't we put her to bed? She might wake up feeling uncomfortable.”

“She told me she..” Giorno had his face warm up, which didn't go unnoticed by Mista, “She wants to be close to me,” He said with the most unflustered voice he can do.

Mista surpressed a laugh, “Then go for it! Put her to bed and sleep with her! Aren't you childhood friends? The closest? Doesn't that mean you've slept with her before like when you're playing or something?”

Giorno sighed, still looking at you, “Well yeah, but this is different. We're not kids anymore.”

“Don't misunderstand, Giorno. You're just being by her side like she requested you to, she trusts you enough not to do anything that would ruin that trust. Besides, we all saw how you looked at her! It was obvious that you missed— Okay boss, I know you got it.” Mista, who had been carried away with giving advice, received a warning glance from Giorno, so he stopped himself and patted his boss' back before leaving.

Giorno patiently waited for everyone to leave — each of them giving him a thumbs up —, all the while sitted by your side as he thought of what Abbacchio said to him when he came back after the others had left.

“Hey, Giorno. She isn't a nuisance, at least. It's not everyday you get to spend a break with someone like her. Use your smart ass and don't ruin it.”

He was right, but what does he mean to not ruin it? You're resting, what else does he have to do? He could continue reading through his paperworks while he waited for you to wake up, that way he won't have to worry about those later and get to have more time for you.

It was settled. Giorno stood up and was going to walk to his table, only to be stopped by a hand. He looked back, and saw your hand unyieldingly holding his. Surprised, he checked your face, but you were still fast asleep and were not faking it. He hitched a breath, he's getting flustered over holding hands with you even if you closely held each other earlier. Did he intertwined his hand with you, or was it you who did it? To answer it, he tried to break free from your hold, but you tightened your grip.

“Gio..” You called for him, half-awake. You fluttered your half-lidded eyes as you tried to sit up, Giorno quickly helping you and sitting a little far from you after you've settled with folding your knees, his hand still in yours that rested on your lap. You covered your mouth with the other and yawned, “Ah, wooh! Remember when you.. asked me that one thing, Haruno?” You casually told him after stretching.

“I-it depends, [Y/N]. What thing is it?” Giorno gulped, are you not aware of your hands?

“It was your birthday.. it was the time we confessed our crushes to each other, to be precise,” You looked up and giggled on the memory, “I gave you a gift then you gave me a carnation flower. After that, you told me—”

“Is it alright if I ask you to be my someone like your mama is to your papa?” Giorno cut you off and squeezed your hand, recalling the exact words he told you that day. He began to like holding your hand, it would be a shame to let this miss.

You turned your eyes to him, “Yeah, that. I was wondering if you have someone right now who.. you know, who you asked that?” You gazed at him with pure curiosity, wanting to know more of the people he's most fond with. Meeting his squad had been a blast, and it would be great if you met his special one.

“Did asking you counted?”

“Wha?”

“Is it..?”

Awkward. Silence. You didn't expect him to answer like that, to answer with so much swiftness and poise like he already knew your question and had prepared what to say. Giorno surely grew out of his shell, and that thought made you smile unknowingly, which flushed him even more.

“Can I sit closer to you, [Y/N]?” Giorno tugged your hand after he asked, and you responded with facing to your side so he could move closer to you. You looked down on your clasped hands that broke hold with his, not knowing what to say when he literally confessed for the second time.

“Don't you feel cold with your open chest?”

“Can we hug again?”

Another. Awkward. Silence. You were trying to start up a new topic because it had been too quiet, but you were out of place. How do you even tell him that you still like him? Of course it isn't like the time when you were kids, shrugging off uneasy moments with outgoing replies and with the littlest of distractions. It had been years since you first saw each other, and the bond with the gang earlier helped you both catch up a bit, but it isn't going too well without them. Is it really alright to talk about such feelings now?

You glanced at the nervous Giorno and nodded, a small smile finding its way to his lips. He put an arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you in. You shifted your body and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head once again resting on his shoulder. With that, he proceeded to lock you in both of his arms as he placed his head on yours and closed his eyes, GER manifesting on your other side as it mimicked its user's hold on you.

Feeling your affectionate form nestle close to him is what he'd describe as his cloud nine, all the built-in stress being released as the snippets of emptiness that unfortunate circumstances brought were filled. How come you managed to be the same angel that he knew a decade ago? As someone incredibly whipped for you, he already knows the reason, but maybe he'd ask you of that sooner or later just to see you in a blushing state.

In the present, he'll gratify himself of this moment, the voice of Abbacchio saying that he should ‘use his smart ass and not ruin this’ echoing through his mind.

He kissed your crown as you snuggled closer to him, giving him the composure he needed to speak of his feelings for you, “Don't worry. You have the whole month to think of your answer to my question. For now, listen to my voice as I tell you how much you mean to me, even if I get separated from you for a devastating number of years.”

“Sei la luce della mia vita, amore mio.”

[End!]

[wolfywordweaver]

Trans Mages Week 2021 DAY 6 - solidarity, pastel/punk

NOTE: this started out with the idea that Baz's dad didn't accept him being gender fluid but has somehow morphed into something a bit more. There's MalMage, a brewing storm, genderfluid vampire Baz, potentially gender confused Simon, biker gangs, magic, fantasy world building, 50s inspired towns, and political intrigue. What a mess. I don't know where I'm going with this, but it's possible that I'll morph this into a full blown thing.

The roar of the motorcycles was a familiar buzz in Simon’s ears, something that usually lulled him into a state of zen. However, this time there was a change in the feel of the roar, and he could catch a different scent on the wind. There was a town up ahead.

It took conscious effort to keep his folded wings from stretching out behind him at the thought of being able to make a stop and maybe even spending a couple of days somewhere. The Mage’s Men had been on the road for a while, slowly making their way to a kingdom out further past the High Mountains.

There had been a few odd jobs here and there to keep them fed and content until they got this big one, and he was hoping that maybe the nearing Watford would have a little something to do. It had been a while since he’d tasted a nice hot scone or something sweeter than a pack of discount sandwich cookies.

Davy threw back a few hand signs and Simon grinned widely. A much needed stop was just what they needed. The rest of the ride into down was a blur, and soon the whole pack was taking a quick tour to gauge the place.

Watford was a lot like most of the little towns hovering outside of capital cities. Coven’s magic signature was over everything, a bond of protection should anything befall the small town. Davy was not a huge fan of Coven, and Simon glanced nervously at the man.

Davy Mage was the leader of their gang, a man with great vision, testicular fortitude, and a willingness to do whatever it took to reach his goals. He’d earned the title of Mage after years of battle with another family, and Simon was quite lucky to have gained the title of Heir.

Whether Davy was his actual biological father or not was up for debate, but Simon tried not to worry himself about things like that. Davy was the closest thing he had to a father, and knowing the truth of the matter wouldn’t change anything. Any curiosity or whisper of discontent was tucked deep down with all the other things he didn’t want to think about.

Right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was finding a nice inn that offered hot breakfast. Freshly cooked food and a soft place to sleep sounded blissful, and he definitely needed a shower. Offing another round of goblins after his head had left him in dire need of getting cleaned up. Even his leathers had gotten messy in that battle.

Thankfully, the Mage didn’t change his mind and direct them out of town. They rode through the town square, taking in the views of shops and concerned looking citizens. It was normal to have people frightened of them until their intentions were made known.

There were a lot of wandering gangs that were carrying out missions from the larger kingdoms, and most towns never knew if they were on a hit list or not. If these guys were under the protection of Coven, they might be less than friendly for the duration of their stay, but Simon didn’t care. It’s not like he planned on settling here or anything.

Just a bit of food and rest was all he needed to be ready to move on.

The whole gang pulled up to a modest looking inn, and then the engines were shut off. Groaning in relief, Simon swung his leg back over and off his bike before allowing his blood-red wings and tail to stretch out. Premal jumped back in annoyance so that he didn’t get knocked off his feet, but Simon couldn’t be bothered to care.

Everyone knew that they needed to keep their distance.

“Simon,” the Mage barked as he pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, “get up there and scope things out.”

“Yes, sir!”

Flying was one of the only things better than riding down the open road, Simon thought as he felt the wind whipping around his body. The large wings at his back beat loudly, working to bring him up high enough to skim his hands along the underside of a few stray clouds.

Whooping loudly, Simon dipped and rolled through the wind as he examined the area around Watford. There didn’t seem to be any signs of danger and the Kingdom of Coven's capitol was far away enough that they would probably keep their nose out of the Mage’s business unless a fight broke out.

He was surprised to see a rather large school for such a small town, but shrugged it off and made his way back down to the Mage.

“Looks clear,” he panted upon landing.

The Mage nodded and thoughtfully stroked his neat thin mustache. “Good, good. No signs of the Coven moving?”

“Nope.” Those green eyes narrowed in annoyance and Simon quickly corrected himself. “Uh, no, sir.”

“Perfect.”

All of the Men waited outside while Davy and Simon went in to negotiate a stay. Things almost always tended to work better in Davy’s favor when he had Simon hanging around.

Blue eyes took in the modest décor of the place and noted that there was a lot of school memorabilia. These people were awfully proud of their school. The goat on the coat of arms was kind of silly, he thought. Once the negotiations were through, Simon was put in a room with two other Men and they all unpacked their few belongings.

Simon enjoyed a hot shower and washed off the reminders of the past few weeks. He still had a healing wound from a sword to his side a couple of weeks ago, but there was already a scaly patch over it helping it heal.

The scales would fall off after it was completely repaired, another strange bit of the magic that always seemed to be around him.

Once he was washed clean and in fresh clothes, Simon got the Mage to magically hide his wings away so that he could better explore the shops. There had been too many mishaps with his wings and broken goods and the Mage didn’t want to pay for anymore so he would begrudgingly oblige.

With all that finished, Simon strode out on the town in his cleanest pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with his leather jacket over it. Premal had cleaned his leather’s already, a kind gesture considering that Simon had been too scared to try again after catching his first pair of leathers on fire with his attempt to clean them.

Everything about Watford felt clean and quaint. There were perfect rows of homes, perfectly manicured and maintained gardens and yards, and rows of tidy shops he could explore. There weren’t really any children to be seen, and Simon realized that they were all probably still in school.

That thought made him a little sad. He’d never been to school. For the first half of his life he had actually been feral, a wild beast of a thing whose only thought was keeping itself alive. Then the Mage found him and took him in, teaching him the ways of people.

The magic that ran hotly through his blood belonged to the world of people, but the wings and tail were something else entirely. He’d heard the whispers of “dragon” often enough to wonder if that was his origin, but it had been too long since people had even seen dragons much less conversed with them. No one knew anything of dragon children.

Walking through the bookstore, Simon allowed his fingers to drag over the spines of the books, enjoying the different textures and designs. The shop keeper’s eyes were firmly planted on him, but the man said nothing. None of the adults did.

Maybe it was his tail, visibly swaying behind him. It hadn’t ever been as much of a nuisance as his wings, but it was still odd enough to put most people off. It made it hard to even get a date these days, but he still didn’t like hiding away these parts of him, especially for something as fleeting as a one-night stand.

“When does the school let out?” Simon asked with what he hoped was a casual tone.

The man blinked at him in surprise. “Three o’clock for the young’uns,” he replied with a gruff voice. “And 4:40pm for the graduates. Same as all the other schools.”

“Ah.” The man was looking at him even more curiously and Simon found himself leaving the store rather quickly afterwards.

A café called Pritchard’s caught his attention, and soon Simon was happily tucked in a corner scarfing down a pile of steaming hot scones. He’d never had sour cherry ones before, but was beginning to think that he had a new favorite now.

The bell over the door rang, and Simon peeked over the high-backed booth to see a small group of students come in chattering.

“Uncle Pritchard, is it true?” a beautiful person asked. She was taller than everyone else and had quite a striking figure.

Pitch black hair was neatly wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck. She had a lovely silk blouse with wildflowers on it tucked into a sensible black pencil skirt and very shiny shoes. Simon always liked shiny shoes.

He also quickly noticed her pointed ears and the fangs peeking out over her lovely lower lip. A vampire? In this little place? The fact that no one was staking her meant that she was probably a pet or something, so he settled himself down and observed as quietly as possible.

“Kids, you shouldn’t be out-” the man tried before he was interrupted.

“They let us out early,” another young lady stated with the authority of a warlord. “Are there really mercenaries in town?”

He rather liked this one’s wild hair. It was tied back with a thinning ribbon and Simon wondered if the poor thing would give out and set loose the mane of curls.

“Now, now-”

“A gang in town!” Someone else squealed excitedly. “I can’t believe it! Nothing this exciting has ever happened before!”

“Our town had a showdown of Mages barely fifteen years ago,” the first girl snapped in annoyance.

“Yeah, but we were like babies,” someone else added.

“Kids,” the café owner tried again, his eyes nervously shifting towards Simon.

“Do you think they’re here to challenge Mr. Grimm?” the second girl asked with a grave tone. “He won’t go down without a fight.”

The first girl looked almost ill at the thought and the man quickly reached out and took her elbow. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. No one’s challenging anyone. They’re just passing through.”

Simon stuffed the last scone into his mouth and continued to enjoy watching the others hovering around the cash register. There was something quite refreshing about seeing other people his age who were so clueless to things like how gangs operated. Sure, there were a few roving bands of bonety hunters who would ride into places and raze them without provocation, but those were usually taken out by gangs like the Mage’s Men.

It was bad for business all around to have groups destroying villages and cities, so kingdoms wouldn’t put up with behavior like that. Even as a roaming gang with no kingdom loyalty, the Mage’s Men knew better than to get the ire of an entire kingdom pointed in their direction.

“Uncle, are they-”

“Really now, kids,” the man interrupted exasperatedly. “Do you want to order something or not?”

They all looked taken aback by his response and Simon grinned. The man obviously didn’t want them saying anything to offend him while he was sitting right there. It meant that he was scared too. Simon wasn’t easily offended, and really couldn’t care less about what some small-town gruffs thought about him or his family.

Deciding to take pity on the man and give them all a chance to gossip in peace, Simon stood up, his boots hitting the tile loudly. Everyone at the front of the building jumped in shock and Simon kept his most confident smile in place as he stared at them all.

“The food was good, mate,” he addressed the older gentleman and tossed a few bills on the table.

His eyes moved towards the group of young adults and found that tall girl. Her legs were even more stunning now that he could get a good look. With a brazen wink in her direction he strode right up to the front door and decided to head back to the rest of his group.

He hadn’t got more than a few meters from the café before the bell was ringing and there were marching footsteps behind me.

“Pardon me, you brute,” a voice demanded, “but you owe me an apology!”

Turning back in amusement, Simon glanced up into those indignant silver eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she snapped back.

“What for? Don’t like a compliment?”

A blush burned on her grey cheeks, but she stood her ground.

“Th-that wasn’t a compliment!” she protested. “That was rude! I am not a piece of meat to be gawked at!”

Blue eyes roamed over her more carefully this time and noted the more distinguished larynx and the deeper pitch of voice. “It’s not gawking, doll. Just admiring.”

The sputtering person seemed completely thrown off, caught somewhere between being even more offended and slightly flattered.

“It’s rude to stare!” the vampire shot back, seemingly not understanding why Simon wasn’t apologizing or backing down.

“People stare at me all the time,” Simon replied honestly. “I don’t waste my energy on caring whether they’re being rude or not.”

Those grey eyes looked completely baffled for a moment before the motion of Simon’s tail caught their attention. Eyebrows shot up and that lovely mouth gaped for a moment, allowing a better view of those darling fangs. It was nice to get to admire such things when they weren’t gnashing at you.

“Oh, you’re a...”

Simon shrugged. “They don’t have a name for my type, doll. Are you someone’s pet?”

“P-pet?! Not at all! My father is the mayor of this town!”

“Ah.” Simon gestured towards his ears. “Don’t really see a lot of you out and integrated into the towns. Makes sense with your dad, though.” The vampire self-consciously touched at their ear and Simon stepped forward carefully. “I don’t mean it it in a bad way, doll.”

“I’m...” The vampire coughed to clear their voice and shook their head. “My name is Baz. Please call me that. And it’s they/them.”

Simon jutted out his hand in greeting. “Simon. Good to meet you.”

“He/him?” Baz asked carefully as they took his hand.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Davy had called him a boy from the moment he captured Simon, and the young man had never given it a second thought.

“A pleasure, Simon,” Baz greeted politely.

Warmth filled his body and Simon enjoyed the feel of that hand in his. Baz had oddly rough hands for someone as posh as they were, but they also had a smokey smell to them that made Simon feel comfortable and almost...safe.

Not one to ever let an opportunity pass by, Simon stepped even closer and put on his most charming grin. “Say, Baz, wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” The vampire seemed to choke on their breath, but Simon pushed forward. “I’d like to get to know you.”

He wasn’t certain if this place had certain courting rules, but he was sure that the Mage could get him out of any jam he walked into. The man knew how much he liked holding hands and getting close to other people. He’d tried something serious with a previous Mage’s Man but it hadn’t gone over well and the guy his head smashed in by a Numpty as Davy’s warning to the others to keep their hands off of Simon.

Simon was an Heir and weapon first and foremost, and having people fuck with his emotions was a no-go. So, Simon was limited to random dates and one-night stands any chance he could get.

“Uh, I...” Baz swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay.”

“Can you come out for lunch?”

Baz nodded and Simon felt a happy warmth fill his body. “Alright. Here at noon, yeah?”

“Okay,” Baz responded shyly. There was a definitely blush burning on their cheeks.

Simon squeezed Baz’s hands and then quickly made his way back to the rest of the gang.

*****

The café owner glanced nervously between the two young people as he set the strawberry milkshake between them, but Simon ignored him and focused completely on Baz. The Mage had struggled to hide the wings away that morning because Simon’s magic was buzzing excitedly, but they were thankfully still tucked away.

While Simon was dressed the same as the previous day, he took the time to admire Baz’s outfit. They looked so polished and put together with their tan slacks, shiny belt, green polo shirt, and a fuzzy sweater neatly hung over their shoulders and loosely tied around their collarbones.

“How long have you been a vampire?” Simon asked dreamily as he leaned forward and rested his chin in one hand. Baz really was quite pretty.

“Since I was five,” they replied softly, a hand automatically coming up to cover the fangs.

“Don’t cover them,” Simon stated softly. “I like seeing them.”

“Oh,” Baz replied with a slight squeak before they leaned forward and drank down a bit of the shake.

There were two straws in the glass and Simon felt his body throbbing with happy energy. Everything about this place was sweet and delightful!

“I think you’re pretty,” Simon added, falling back on his tried and true brashness. He enjoyed seeing the blush light up on those cheeks. “Beautiful really.”

“You’re quite outspoken,” Baz retorted, but the smile remained on his lips. “And a flatterer.”

“I like to speak the truth,” Simon replied honestly. “And if I like you, I don’t see the point in not saying so.”

“Don’t you like to get to know someone first?” Baz asked curiously.

“I’m getting to know you now,” came the laughing response. “What’s your favorite scone?”

And with that, the two of them carried on an easy conversation. The strawberry shake dwindled down between them, and when Simon slid his hand across the table to drag his finger against the back of Baz’s hand, the vampire didn’t pull back. Their fingers hooked together as they talked, and both left lunch with dreamy looks on their faces.

As Simon meandered back to the inn, Davy Mage stood in a hall quite familiar to him and stared at a large portrait. The woman painted in it stared down at him severely, and he couldn’t keep the curl of distaste off his lips.

“What are you doing here, David?” a tired voice asked.

Davy looked over to see Malcolm Grimm, his all-white hair a shock from the memories he had of the man.

“You look old,” he sneered angrily.

Malcolm didn’t rise to the bait. He just stood next to the younger man and stared at the portrait. “Grief ages you, David.” The men stood next to each other quietly, each reminiscing over times gone by. “What are you doing here?”

The truth was dangerous, so Davy danced around it. “Passing through to another job. A Mage’s work is never done.”

Most Mages through history had settled into a town and worked from there, but Malcolm didn’t want to point out the obvious.

“Are you happy?” he asked, a heaviness in his words that had been there for so many years.

“What do you care?” Davy snapped, the irritation bubbling up.

“I’ve always cared.”

“Fuck you!” Davy growled as he wheeled on the taller man and shoved him. “Fuck you!”

The hurt was heavy in the air and Malcolm stared at the white-knuckled fists clenching his lapels. He’d seen that same grip so many times already and it opened up the wounds of his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing that nothing would make it better.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Davy replied after a few moments, a crack of emotion breaking through the words. “And I won’t ask again.”

“I know.”

Davy stepped back and released the creased material of the suit. He ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, a bronze brown that had once hung loose and carelessly over his forehead.

“I’ll be at the same place,” Davy added quietly, almost in defeat. “You’ll know where to find me.”

[jancmalandra]

Moominpapa Steps Up

On making hope real in a bad situation

By Wednesday, Moominpapa, Moomintroll, Tayberry, and Moomin had become a well-oiled housekeeping team. The children and Moomintroll got finished with all the chores a little earlier each day and got to spend a little more of the afternoon enjoying walking in the woods with Snufkin. That evening, they gathered in the parlor once more to hear Moominpapa continue his story of his adventures just before he met Moominmama, this time over fruit punch.

"Gail and Emmaline led Charlie and I to a large, old, abandoned factory building deep in the bowls of Brooklyn. I committed my very first truly criminal act when they showed me how to use the city's public train system without paying in order to get there. All the windows of the factory were painted over in black paint, and from the outside it looked completely deserted and uninviting. Emmaline told me that this was one of the Mumriks' many safe houses for the poor throughout the city. Inside, they had rigged up electric lights and had done whatever else they could to make the interior comfortable for the many residents there. There was a makeshift soup kitchen and dining hall on the first floor. The remaining five floors were used as dormitories with bathrooms, cots, mattresses, sheets, blankets, and pillows to go with them. Kerosene powered space heaters kept each room as warm possible."

"The residents were a motley collection of homeless, destitute beasts from every race under the sun. Fuzzies, Moomins, Hemulens, and so on, all of whom had come under the protection of the Mumriks. The Mumriks themselves were quite an impressive group. They were well-organized and disciplined in their own way. They had no chain of command and nothing was ever written down, but Gail and Emmaline's example and intent were followed by all the other Mumriks without fail. They were united by one idea; truly helping the poor and forgotten citizens of the city. The residents never ran out of supplies and when the residents had to lay low or scatter due to the presence of the police or the gangs, no one panicked and everyone followed what would be the best procedure without having to be told what to do."

"The Mumriks all wore loose fitting and ragged street clothing; sneakers, work boots, denim jeans, athletic pants, t-shirts, hoodies and work shirts while indoors and heavy Winter coats and pants over that when they went outdoors. The best of the clothing that the Mumriks were able to 'aquire' was reserved for the residents. This is where I was expected to come in."

"Emmaline asked me if I could provide unwanted clothing from Aunt Jane's store on a regular basis. I explained that getting around Frederick would be impossible and that we would have to let him in on the scheme. I also explained that he would most likely be in favor of it, and that I could see him finding ways to deliver the clothing more secretly, surely and safely."

"To make a long story short, When I explained the situation to Frederick a few days later, his reaction was exactly what I had hoped for. He instantly agreed to arrange for the delivery of the clothing to drop off points specified by Gail and Emmaline and keep its absence appearing to be legitimate on the store's books."

" 'My dear Moomin.' he said to me very seriously, but at the same time looking rather thrilled at the whole thing and proud of me, 'The success of this endeavor will depend on you distracting Jane from paying close attention to the store for a few months while we iron out the potential difficulties in this arrangement. I'm afraid that I must ask you to get into rather a lot of constant trouble for at least that long to accomplish this. Jane will pursue you and attempt to bring you home. You must keep her chasing after you and not allow yourself to get caught. Are you up to it, my boy?', I nodded and we began planning how I would conduct my daily mischief."

"Aunt Jane spent her weekday evenings at various high society gatherings, which I would crash and then run off with as much of the best of the wine, liquor and food as I could carry. I would make as much of a scene in public as possible, guaranteeing that she would pursue me personally rather than call the police. The Mumriks would provide me with unlicensed cabs and drivers to help me make my getaways and seedy, low-rent apartments to hide in. The cabs were one of the many ways that they made money for the safe houses."

"Thus began a game of cat and mouse that Aunt Jane and I ended playing for the next three years. Even after the clandestine clothing delivery service was firmly established, I couldn't resist tormenting Aunt Jane by making a public spectacle of myself as cover for running errands for the Mumriks. Naturally, she saw it as her duty to bring me back to her townhouse and under her supervision. And so, our grand duel of wits and wills truly began. As promised, in return for my aid, the Mumriks showed me the slums, lower class bars, clubs, restaurants and food stands, and the homeless camps of the city. What amazed me most about the poor people of the city is that most of them never gave up. They kept moving forward, looking for any opportunity to make their lives and the lives of those around them better."

"I'll describe all of this in much greater detail when I start writing it down for my Memoirs, and I might be persuaded to tell a particularly good story from my time on the run from Aunt Jane in the boroughs of New York once in a while. For now, however, there's really only one story of that time that's left to be told; how I made good my escape back to Moominland and the Autarch's estate during my fourth year in New York, and I will tell that story tomorrow night."

Everyone started heading off to bed except Moominpapa, who asked Snufkin if he could help with cleaning the punch cups and pitcher. They carried everything into the kitchen and Moominpapa began to do the washing in the kitchen sink while Snufkin sat at the kitchen table.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Papa?", asked Snufkin.

"I know that even after nine years of being happily united with Moomintroll and Snork Maiden, living here in Moominhouse, and helping them raise their children," said Moominpapa, "You still wonder sometimes what you are doing being in love with Moomintroll and being part of a family. You wonder what purpose you serve here in Moominhouse. You wonder whether you might be betraying your real nature as a Mumrik. I also know that it's even more complicated than that for you because your parents are The Joxter and The Mymble. Only you get to decide who you are and where you belong. You should trust in the love that you found first and foremost. You should also know that you became a permanent member of the Moomin family the instant you met Moomintroll and you became friends back when you were both eleven. By The Booble, that feels like such a long time ago and like it was only yesterday at the same time! I'm very much afraid that you're stuck with us. You didn't ever have to be anyone or anything else than who you were at the moment to be fully a member of this family. You don't need to prove anything or fulfill any role here. We all love you exactly as you are."

"Thank you, Papa!", said Snufkin. He suddenly felt overcome with his love for the entire Moomin family and gave Moominpapa a hug for the first time in his life. Snufkin then headed off to his room to join Moomintroll in his bed, his steps noticeably lighter and freer.

To Be Continued

[muthaz-rapapa]

StarPre Ep 40: A lesson in judging immaturely.

Dude, this episode hurt like a bitch to watch.

I mean, the preview suggested it would be but I will never be alright with seeing Lala cry, ok? N-E-V-E-R

Also, FUCK MADOKA’S DAD!!

Don’t you ever come near my daughter again! D:<

*cough* Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Rumor mills and ostracization.

Ok, let’s set aside the fact that Lala is indeed an alien, that strange things started happening around the same time she transferred in, that people woke up with no memory of what happened before they fell unconscious, etc.

Let’s set aside the fact that despite being a grade-A tactless asshat, Madoka’s dad was just doing his job on investigating things he found suspicious. That it probably wasn’t his foremost intention to disrupt peaceful school life by having everyone in Lala’s class turn on her just because he wanted confirmation on who she truly was.

Does that make his actions excusable?

NO.

You do not approach a middle school girl, tell her that her classmate is “highly illegal and dangerous” with absolutely no proof to your claim and simply not care about the consequences afterwards.

Look, we all know the kids in Hikaru and Lala’s class are good people. Nobody gangs up on others, nobody gets left out of the group and they all get along very well.

Most importantly, they welcomed Lala with open arms when she joined their class.

So for that to turn completely upside down overnight, there’s got to be reason for it and it certainly can’t be because they’ve all been rotten deep down this entire time. Naw, that makes absolutely no sense.

The reason is panic.

As good as these kids are, they’re still just kids, y’know? They’re children.

How do you think they’re going to react when an adult (who just so happens to be the former school president’s father AND a government official) says “your classmate may be behind all the strange things that’s been occurring all over town”?

Children are taught to listen to their elders.

Children also have very vivid imaginations.

If you tell them there is reason to fear, then they will fear.

They are not the cause of the problem (the one who set that fear loose is) but their misunderstanding of it can make things so much worse.

And in this case, it created a scenario none of them wanted.

They all went on the defensive against one innocent girl. They excluded her out of self-preservation and hurt her as a result.

Again, like Himenojou later clarifies, nobody in the class wanted to suspect Lala. They felt awful about it when Lala ran off crying after hearing their conversation.

But since Madoka’s dad tried to expose Lala’s true nature, it’s very hard for them to ignore the possibility of a connection between Lala and the strange happenings. They just can’t help but doubt.

And it’s so very easy for humans to doubt each other. It’s such a sad thing to admit but people in general tend to give in to their negative thoughts more than they want to try to believe the actual truth.

I mean, take a look at what happens on social media every single day. People are vicious and merciless when it comes to their opinions. We think we know what’s right when in reality, we really don’t know what to believe.

But more than how it affects us, how do you think it fares for the target of these “discussions”?

Do their feelings not matter? Are they supposed to just sit quietly on the side like an object as we tear into them with our suspicions?

That is just so WRONG.

Which is why I’m so glad, so eternally grateful, that even in times like these, there will always be at least one person in the world who’s going to stand by you no matter what. Who will cry with you but defend you to the bitter end regardless.

Nevermind that Hikaru’s been in on Lala’s secret since the very beginning. Nevermind that they’re very close friends or are on the same team.

Hikaru chose the Lala she knows over the vague accusations pointed at her friend.

Hikaru chose Lala for who she is, not what she is. 

And like so many instances before, the theme of these season comes full circle.

It is worth it. Learning more about what you don’t know. Understanding and comprehending what you don’t know.

So that when you finally know, truly know, there is no need to doubt.

Because you already know what’s true so why should you doubt anymore?

Then of course, there’s Lala.

Oh, Lala.

You sweet, wonderful, beautiful girl.

Despite having such a shitty day bearing the distrusting looks of her classmates, Lala knows that they didn’t mean to hurt her. They were just afraid. They couldn’t help it.

It doesn’t erase what they all did for her when she became their classmate. It doesn’t render all the good times she shared with them moot.

No. Lala still sees them as her friends, people who are dear to her. People who have made her happy. For that, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t protect them.

They’re important to Lala, regardless of what they think of her or whether they can understand her or not, so of course she’s going to protect them!

And again, it comes full circle because now that everything’s out in the open, then it also means the entire class can see Lala for who she truly is.

And what they see isn’t a scary alien out to abduct them and take away their memories but a brave girl who’s doing everything within her power to keep them from harm.

A girl who’s also their precious classmate and who’s also an alien.

She isn’t just one and not the other. She’s both.

But most importantly, she’s Lala. Their friend, Lala.

By cheering her on and later defending her from Madoka’s dad, they’ve fully accepted her situation and choose to stand by her just like Hikaru did.

It doesn’t matter what she is. What matters is that she’s important to them and that she’s here to stay and they won’t tolerate anyone who says or think less of her.

The fact that it’s gotten to the point where even Madoka is tired of Daddy-o’s invasive shit and firmly tells him to leave them alone is just...gratuitous icing on the cake.

*chef’s kiss*

Anyways, out of all the individual-centric eps in this last stretch before the climax, Lala’s focus ep amazes and excels over everyone else’s (not sure about Madoka’s yet which we’ll see next week) again.

Because you gotta remember that on her planet, nobody cared about her, much less acknowledged that she has the potential to be more than what they believe she’s capable of.

Lala yearned so much to be treated with respect but Saaman would not give that to her.

However, on Earth, she’s loved for who she is and not rejected for what she’s not.

And then she came so close to losing that so she fought to prove herself. Even without knowing if they’d welcome her back now that they’re aware she’s an alien, she fought anyways because here on Earth, more than on Saaman, she feels like she belongs.

Lala is infinitely more happy with her Earthling friends than she has ever been on Saaman and it will be terribly heartbreaking when she’ll have to leave after the final boss battle.

T_T

...that said, as much as I loved the resolution of this episode, I can’t help but find the buildup towards it a little...tilted?

Please don’t get me wrong, the message was solid and everything does make sense in context (more than Yuni’s episode did, anyway) but...

I dunno, I just can’t shake off the mild impression that in order for people to accept you, you literally have to take a barrage of bullets for them. But it’s a very insignificant feeling and I know that wasn’t the writers’ intention so nevermind. Forget this nonsense I’m spouting. :P

Anyways, all’s well that ends well. Lala will be even more loved than ever and frankly, that’s all that matters.

BEST GIRL, YEP

:D

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (4)

―; summary: Jacob visits Florence for the first time. Florence is left with far too many emotions.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.9k (its a big boy, babey)

―; warnings: light swearing. anxiety-esque feelings towards the end (Florence gets overwhelmed ): )

―; A/N: i love Florence muchly at this point and, trust me, i already want to write cute little fluffy smoochy things but there’s a bit of time before that still. society has a lot to say about how a woman should be at this time and it really has begun to wear on Florrie, as demonstrated at the end of this chapter.

don’t worry though!!! she’s just babie and will work past it soon. the heart wants what the heart wants, after all.

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

― ❊ ―

Freddy and Florence had spent the next few days having tense conversations between their self-isolation to their own bedrooms. There was a sense of regret that hung in the air but neither siblings seemed to want to speak of it. Florence, nerves too high to even stay in the same room as him for a while and worried that he would further draw attention to her mortal flaws, kept herself to reading. Freddy busied himself with paperwork and patrols until the late evening. That is until Lissie, fed up with their pride, sat them both down and commanded that they talk to one another, lest the cook quit and leave them to fend for themselves.

Oh, if she had a shilling for every time she’d had to do this since working for the Abberline’s, she’d have enough money to finally buy that necklace she’d always ogled on the way to the market. It was the way of siblings, she supposed: they always had to prove they were superior to the other in one way or another.

They had reconciled after a few moments of silence then them both leaning forward and mumbling an “I’m sorry” at the same time. Frederick admitted that perhaps his leash on her was too tight. Florence said that she understood that he was just trying to protect her. Her brother sighed tiredly, thankful that this was all over, and joked that at least she didn’t have to write about their bickering now in her letter to their parents. When she laughed, everyone could feel a weight lift off of the household.

All was well with the Abberline’s once again.

That afternoon, after Freddy had left for work with a smile on his face for the first time in days, Florence had retired to her room, finally content enough with life that she could write a sufficient letter to her parents. Edward and Hannah Abberline were kind parents and especially lenient with their children, much to the dismay of other mothers and fathers of their rank. Their only condition for Florence to move into Freddie’s house in London was that she wrote regularly and that she at least try to find a nice man to marry. She was more than happy to uphold those terms.

The brunette was lucky that, when three knocks came to her bedroom window, her dip pen was away from the paper; with the way that she jolted in her seat, it surely would’ve ruined the page she had been writing on. A string of meowing began from her bed, her cat obviously peeved at the disruption to his sleep. When her gaze finally dragged to the window, half-expecting to see an insistent bird, she met eyes with Jacob, who’s grin told her that he found her surprise amusing.

Florence stood and slid the window up, letting Jacob haul himself inside. “The window is usually open; you didn’t have to knock.”

He dusted himself off, readjusting his coat. Before he could speak, the tabby cat to his left honked at him. Shocked, Jacob looked about before meeting the stare of perhaps the most tired-looking (and sounding) feline he’d ever seen. The cat yelled at him again and he gave Florence a look.

Florence scooped the cat up into her arms, much to its displeasure. “Don’t worry about Duncan. He likes to tell people off for disturbing him.”

Jacob chuckled. “He’s called Duncan?” He reached a hand out and Duncan sniffed it cautiously.

“An urchin gave him to me a year or so ago. The poor child said that she wanted him to live a nice life with a nice lady. She said his name was Duncan.” Florence looked fondly down at the cat, who seemed to have now forgiven Jacob and was gently purring. When Jacob drew away, Duncan meowed and clawed his way up to balance on his owner’s shoulder, sniffing the air. Florence looked inconvenienced but decided to allow it, continuing to speak with Jacob. “What brings you here?”

“Adventure, dear Flor.” He had begun to peruse through her belongings, eyes scanning the letter she had been writing and the cat figurine on her desk. “You, me, the great city of London: are you up for it?”

Florence tutted, leaning to let Duncan hop down onto the bed from her shoulder, and shuffled Jacob away from her desk. “That’s not particularly specific. You could be planning on taking me somewhere nefarious like a…” She paused to think, during which Jacob was practically challenging her to say something terrible, “... brothel in Whitechapel.”

Jacob grimaced but huffed out a laugh. “Nothing of the sort. I don’t even know what that is, Miss Abberline.”

Florence nodded mockingly. “Of course, Jacob.”

“Anyway, before I let you poison my mind with thoughts of brothels,” He gave her a pointed look, reaching down to scratch behind Duncan’s ear, and Florence grinned, “I thought that I could introduce you to a slice of my world.”

Florence cooed, clapping her hands together, though her movements dripped of sarcasm. “Ooh! Are we going to derail a train together?”

His smile said ‘you cheeky mare’ but he continued before she had the chance to berate him further. “No, I was going to take you to a newly liberated stronghold. Evie and I run a gang, you know? Well, it’s more me than Evie but--”

“Where?”

Jacob thought for a moment, like he’d forgotten its location entirely, before breaking out into a terrible smile. “Whitechapel.”

Florence sighed but couldn’t hide the glint of excitement burning in her eyes. Gangs? A stronghold? Goodness, it sounded like a piece from a gritty book or perhaps a play. How delightful!

“I’ll come along but if I get pickpocketed you’re getting my money back, Jacob.”

“Certainly, dear lady.” He made a sweeping gesture to her bedroom door. “Shall we?”

--

Florence hadn’t been expecting to venture into Whitechapel again for a good few months. Catching her brother and meeting the twins there a few days prior had been enough for her. Now, she never looked down upon the poorer; before her father had opened that little shop of his and gained a seat on the town’s council, their family of seven all squished into two rooms and lived off of scrimping. Rather, she felt terribly bad for wandering around perhaps the most impoverished area of London in full health with a warm meal being cooked for her at home. Of course, she didn’t feel sorry for the thugs on the streets that ruffed up those who already had nothing and simply saw them as even more of a reason to visit as little as possible.

When Jacob began to lead her down a dingy alleyway, he seemed unfazed by the drunk man passed out on the floor and… was that his vomit beside him? Florence unconsciously began to walk closer to Jacob, a hand coming up to adjust her hat-- almost hoping that, if she moved it in a certain way, the shadow cast over her fast would hide it. “Are you certain we’re going the right way? Or, are you just leading me down here to test my resolve?”

He chuckled, giving a brief nod to a tall, bald man in a green jacket. “Why can’t it be both?” He stopped walking to let her go in front of him, gesturing for her to do exactly that with a sweep of his hand.

Florence hummed, dissatisfied, but walked ahead of him anyway. She could feel that he was close behind, almost like he was making it painfully obvious that the well-dressed, middle-class lady was with him and not available to be robbed today. It brought her a small degree of comfort, though she couldn’t help but think of her brother’s disapproving glare.

“Oh.” He muttered from behind her. She would’ve turned to look but she decided against it, not wanting to risk accidentally bumping into anyone strung about the narrow pathway. “I almost forgot. Here.” Jacob’s arm appeared at her side, palm upturned and holding the bird figurine from the market. Much to his delight, Florence made what sounded like a pleased little coo and took the sculpture from him, inspecting it with a collector’s eyes. “I went back to the market the other day and bought it; I thought you deserved a gift after the work you did.”

It was a sweet gesture and Florence couldn’t deny the happiness felt in her chest or the smile that immediately cracked her anxious demeanour. “That’s… quite kind of you, Jacob.” She ran a thumb over the intricately carved feathers then, in an effort to keep her newfound treasure safe, she pulled it closer to her body without much thought.

Jacob, however, grinned at this, seeing the amusing resemblance between her and a creature that hoards-- like a magpie or a squirrel. “You collect them, don’t you?”

Florence huffed out a laugh, allowing herself a brief glance over her shoulder to meet his eyes. “Yes, I do. They’re always beautifully crafted and they make a lovely addition to a mantlepiece or desk.” She paused for a moment, pondering. Then, she sighed. “I also collect coins, though they are a lot harder to come by and… I have a book in my desk drawer filled with stamps.”

“Stamps?” He repeated, intrigued. Florence could hear amusement in his tone.

“Stamps.” She confirmed. Wanting anything but having to assess whether or not Jacob thought less of her for this, her sight stayed firmly on the path ahead.

With a simple “I’ll keep an eye out, then” Florence felt altogether better about the situation. It wasn’t often that people simply left her be with her ridiculous collecting habits. She simply enjoyed the… satisfaction that came with the task; she was not a madwoman.

Jacob was becoming more likeable by the minute.

More and more people clad in green began to appear, all regarding Jacob with considerable amounts of respect and admiration. A few made comments about her, telling him that this was “no place to bring a bird like that”, to which, from the corner of her eyes, she could see him throw up two fingers at them. A half-smile tugged at her lips, though she made no audible observations.

They finally got to a small square behind four buildings. A few urchins ran about the place but most were men and women, dressed in green and chatting with one another or having what seemed to be playful brawls. A curious gaze dragged across the surroundings, slowly piecing the puzzle together. Flags of the same shade of green flew and, if she looked closely enough, she noticed that a symbol had been painted onto them: a bird holding a chess piece.

A rook holding a knight.

“You and Miss Frye are the ones that rallied the Clinkers?” She spun around to look at him, face etched with awe. Florence gestured wildly to their surroundings. “I expected a little gathering of rogues and crooks not… this. From what I’ve heard, your new Rooks have been taking down Blighter territory left and right.” Jacob’s eyes were wide but he said nothing, unsure if she was excited to be here or more frightened. A few seconds passed, then Florence broke out into a grin, pointing a finger at him. “I’m impressed.”

The tightness in his shoulders left and he visibly relaxed, mirroring her expression. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. Not compared to what I usually do.”

A nearby gang member-- a rook-- booed at him, though it was through a laugh. The man to her side shook his head, breathing out a chuckle through his nose. It was nice to see that there was such a strong sense of camaraderie between them all, despite them being up against huge and (until now) unbeaten opposition. Florence supposed that being united under two people so outwardly courageous and rallying for change that it would make any group be reinstilled with a sense of hope.

She tutted at him, chiding him for trying to take all the glory, but the smile that twisted at her lips told that she didn’t take him too seriously. “Don’t be a prick, Jacob; I didn’t venture here for you to take all the fame from your men.” He feigned offence, holding a hand to his chest. Clearly having just arrived at a stop on her train of thought, Florence tilted her head slightly, “Speaking of which, why did you bring me here? If you hope to enlist me, I’m afraid my days are all taken up with reading and looking for a husband-- you know, the usual.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and a sarcastic dip of her head.

Jacob kissed his teeth. “A shame, really. Could’ve used a woman with your skill in…” he searched for something to fill the gap. Florence stared at him, a challenging light dancing in her eyes, “... making men feel small.”

She threw her head back, a glimpse of her signature, ridiculous laugh gracing the world. One of her fingers pointed at him and she nodded, “Not bad, Frye. Not bad. But,” Her giggling quietened down and she threw her arms up, as if to gesture to the square and its people, “besides making me feel all-powerful, why exactly have you decided to bring me here?”

“Well,” he began, moving toward a small alcove. There were a few sacks held up on sticks, littered with holes and slices. A crate beside them had a few practice weapons, though she was almost certain that, if she were to be hit over the head with that… wooden stick it would hurt. A lot. “I thought that, what with the mishap--” His eyes flickered to the fading bruise on her cheek, now a sickly yellow colour, and she grimaced, “-- the last time we were together, I might introduce you to extra forms of protection.” Jacob pulled a throwing knife so swiftly from his person that Florence had no idea where it actually came from. He turned it in his hand, fingers carefully holding the bladed end while the grip pointed toward her. “Protection besides a good kick to the bollocks, that is.”

Florence huffed out a laugh and took the knife from him, weighing it cautiously in her hand. “Freddy would go insane if he saw me holding this.”

“Through fear or anger?”

“I’d take a stab at both.” There was a twinkle in her eyes, begging him to pick up on her pun.

He had indeed and gave a “ha, ha, ha” in response, to which Florence shot him an over-exaggerated frown.

Jacob moved to stand beside her, his position forcing her to turn and face the mounted sacks. He pulled another knife out and her gaze flickered towards it. Florence seemed appropriately wary of the weapon and, without knowing, had begun to lean away from Jacob while he held it. His lips curled into a discreet smile upon noticing this but he said nothing; it’s better that she feels in control and comfortable when trying things like this.

“The key to throwing one of this is the power in the wrist.” He rotated the knife around, letting the bladed end almost rest near his wrist. His thumb and first two fingers were at the grip, supporting it, though she could see how loose the hold was-- presumably to make it easier to throw the knife. Jacob looked to her and gestured with his head for her to copy his position. Florence pursed her lips, unsure if she was willing to risk accidentally cutting herself and facing her brother’s wrath, but, after a few moments of quiet deliberation, she did it anyway; she didn’t come all this way just to waste her and Jacob’s time.

He gave her a smile so reassuring and kind that something skipped or bloomed or… something in Florence’s chest and she had to look away.

No. We won’t be having any of that, Florence Abberline.

“Then, once you’ve got a good hold on it, you use the flick of your wrist to--” Jacob threw the knife and, to her amazement, it landed in the centre of the sack, “-- throw it. It can be difficult to get the power right but, once you’re as good as me, you won’t have to think much.”

Florence gave him a harsh side glance. “You continue to gloat even when I’m holding a knife? You’re a foolish, foolish man, Jacob Frye.”

He gave her a sly grin. “It appears you just make me lose all sense, dear Flor.”

Their eyes stayed locked for just a second too long and, in an attempt to distract them both, she threw the knife. Its trajectory was wobbly and the side hit the sack rather than the sharp end but, all in all, he had to admit that it wasn’t too bad; he’d seen some of the Rook initiates throw them worse than that.

Jacob’s lips curled into one of those ‘not bad’ frowns, brows darting skywards. Florence glowered at the fallen knife, never one to enjoy a loss. “Trying to make sense of one of these is ridiculous.” She sighed, pointing to the weapon in the dirt. “Can I not just use one of those as a… normal weapon?”

“It is a normal weapon.”

“Shut up-- you know what I mean.”

As he went to collect the knife, he gave a chuckle. “I suppose you can but only as a last resort; it’s not made for close-range combat.”

Florence huffed. “Well,” A light grew in her eyes, gaze flickering to Jacob. When he turned to face her again, he could tell that a thought was brewing; she had that same look when they first met, “if I were to ever fight someone further away from me, I would much prefer to use a gun.” She glanced down to his hips-- at the straps and holster that held his pistol.

Jacob shook his head, clicking his fingers to draw her attention. “My eyes are up here.”

She grinned, the dimple a deep crease in her cheek. There came a playful wink and a “What can I say? I like a man with who can handle his pistol well”. Innuendo dripped from her tone and he threw his head back to laugh.

“Are you only using me for my gun, dear Flor?” Despite his words, he still pulled the weapon from its holster, checking the cylinder to see how many bullets were inside. He removed all but one.

“If I am, you’re making it terribly easy.” A hand was on her hip when he handed the gun over to her, an impish smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “No resistance, Jacob? You seem like the type to treasure his weaponry.” Florence raised a brow, eyes raking over the pistol in her hand.

He shrugged as she held it up toward the sacks, moving to lean beside a nearby wall to stay clear of… whatever might happen when she shot it. “When a pretty lady offers to play with your gun,” Jacob scrunched his face up, pitch heightening, “you don’t tend to turn her down.”

Florence cackled, leaning over herself to allow her shoulders to shake for a few moments. “You’re terrible.”

“I do try.” He grinned. Then, one of his hands came out to gesture to the training area. “Right. Are you gonna shoot that or n-- pass it back to me.”

“What? Why--”

Jacob took a few urgent steps forward, leaning toward her with his palm open, “Pass it back--” She heard him quietly curse under his breath and stand up straight-- almost too abruptly. He was facing the opposite direction to her now and, as she turned to see who was there, he uttered a devastating: “Hello, Evie.”

Impending doom had appeared in the form of Evie Frye.

Florence could tell that Jacob was caught in between a rock and a hard place with how his brain appeared to have dripped out of both of his ears and he was stood beside her, completely absent. Evie looked between the both of them. Florence hoped that her hat obscured some measure of her face but she also knew that Evie wasn’t an idiot.

“Miss Abberline,” Fuck, “I didn’t expect to see you here of all places. Don’t tell me that my brother dragged you here.” Evie already knew what was happening and that made it triply worse when Florence decided that the best thing to do in the situation was to lie.

Pure desperation coursing through her veins, she grabbed the rook closest to her-- a skinny man in his mid-twenties-- and hooked her arm around his, shuffling herself so they looked like a couple. He didn’t look particularly convincing. “I was actually here to visit…” Florence looked into the bloke’s eyes, her lips drawn into a thin line and her expression panicked. He said nothing and she quietly kissed her teeth, “... Paul. He’s enchanting and I can barely keep myself away--”

“My name is Terrence.”

Beside her, Jacob’s hand flew up to his forehead and he turned away from the pair of them, breathing out a heavy sigh. Evie still stared at Florence, who had frozen in the face of her badly made lie falling apart.

In one last attempt to redeem herself, Florence slapped Paul’s-- Terrence’s-- arm in the same way a wife would when she has to laugh at her husband’s joke. “Don’t be so silly, my love.” She gave Evie a smile, to which the assassin returned but it seemed impatient and altogether unconvinced-- like she was simply trying to speed up her breaking point.

“Good old Paul likes to mess about to try to get Miss Abberline all flustered. He says that her blush is beautiful, isn’t that right Paul?” Jacob joined the fight again, though there was a dimness to his hazel eyes that told Florence that he already knew his sister had won.

Paul frowned. “I just said my name is Terrence. And, why is this woman holding onto my arm?” Florence and Jacob cursed in unison. A smile twisted at the gangly man’s lips, however, when he finally gave Florence a proper look over. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind having a go on a posh bird. You got any plans for tonight, love?”

Disgusted, Florence yanked herself away from him and crossed her arms below her chest. Jacob grimaced beside her and, with a flick of his hand, gestured for Terrence to leave. The man in question went into a sulk and began to kick dirt up as he disappeared around the corner.

“Are you finished?” Evie glanced between them. The pair said and did nothing, which Evie took as a ‘yes’. She pointed a finger to Jacob. “I need to speak with you about something important so you should--”

“Is it about the gang war, Miss Evie?” One of the rooks piped up from a few feet away, having just strolled into the middle of the chaos-filled alcove.

Jacob perked up at Florence’s side. “The what?”

Before Evie could ask the rook to be quiet, they had already started to speak again, “Kaylock has agreed to a fight over Whitechapel. Whoever wins owns the borough.”

He grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “That sounds perfect.” Hazel eyes flickered between Florence and his sister. Both women seemed to anticipate his departure before it even began. “Sorry ladies but I have a borough to become king of.” He looked to the rook, who gestured loosely in the fight’s direction. Jacob nodded and was off on his way, musing “King Jacob: sounds good, doesn’t it?” as he passed the girls by, pinching the gun back from Florence.

Florence, finding the whole thing quite amusing, began to laugh quietly, while Evie at her left simply gave a sigh. Blue eyes dragged over to the smaller woman and she raised a brow, gesturing to the direction he left in. “One of the many reasons why anyone should just stay at home if Jacob invites them out.”

“I think his passion is inspiring.”

“Not when you’ve lived with it your whole life.” Evie gave her a solemn look.

Florence breathed out a chuckle, shaking her head. “You and Freddy would get along well.”

Evie, all things considered, didn’t regard Miss Abberline in a negative light; her apparent desire for adventure and little escapades through London didn’t work to destabilise something greater-- like the reckless decisions Jacob had the tendency to make. She only worried that having her brother form some kind of hopeless attachment to Florence would hinder any progress that he might make and keep him perpetually senseless.

A softer look gracing her features now, Evie gestured for Florence to walk with her. “I think, now that my brother has abandoned you, we should get you home, Miss Abberline. Will Sergeant Abberline be back by the time you arrive?”

Florence pondered then her answer came by way of an inconvenienced frown. “If he’s on his break, maybe. Knowing my luck, he will be.”

They finally reached the main street and Evie seemed to search for a carriage. Briefly, she turned to regard Florence, an eyebrow raised. “I heard that Sergeant Abberline didn’t seem particularly happy when you returned home last Tuesday. Has it passed?”

“This morning, actually.” Florence confirmed. “Lissie made us reconcile; she threatened to leave if not.”

“Your sister?” Evie asked, nodding her head toward a carriage parked on the other side of the road.

Florence followed after her, allowing a light laugh. “No. If anything, she’s more like an over-enthusiastic aunt. Lissie is our live-in cook. She tends to help me like a handmaid, though.”

For the first time, Florence heard Evie’s genuine laugh. Her grin formed in the same way that Jacob’s did but wasn’t given out as freely as he tended to. Reaching the carriage, she gave Florence a hand to help her up onto it before clambering into the driver’s seat herself. “Well, this Lissie sounds like a good woman.”

“Ah,” Florence smiled, huffing out a giggle, “only sometimes. I think she enjoyed when I moved in with Freddy; it gave her someone more lively to gossip with.”

Evie hummed, amused, then silence fell over them both for a small while, leaving Florence to gaze out at the changing boroughs of London and let her thoughts run loose. No matter what her mind tried to focus on-- the book she had been reading, the play her and Freddy were due to attend at the end of the week, the dress she so desperately wanted to buy-- all lines seemed to lead back to Jacob and the (albeit limited) actions they’d had throughout the past few days. It was ridiculous to have suddenly become fixated on this one man. He knew nothing about her and she knew just as little about him. Yet, the thought of him persisted.

Was it him? Or the adventure that came from him?

She began to chew on the inside of her lip, thumbs playing with one another in her lap.

Liking and love were not for Florence. She had tried love once and declared that that would be her last time. A life without that burden was liberating, she’d always told herself. It’s why she despises the idea of getting married and having someone always able to hold onto her reins. It was a useless endeavour and would not serve her in any way that she would like. It would suffocate and surround her. That’s what she’ll always tell herself.

She liked the adventure he caused.

“Miss Abberline?” Evie called over her shoulder and Florence straightened up again but her head was still spinning. The hum she gave would’ve been a voice break. “I think…” Evie gave a sigh, “I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if you don’t indulge my brother. He’s-- he needs to focus on our plans in London. We are working for the better of the people and being close to him-- us-- could put you in a delicate position.”

Of course.

"It's obvious that he enjoys the time spent with you and already counts you among one of his friends but I just..." Evie sucked a breath in through her teeth, leading the horses neatly around a corner, "He hasn't yet realised the gravity of our situation. He just needs to focus."

Of course. Of course. Of course.

It was really beginning to grate on Florence: the fact that everyone wanted her to leave something or another alone. Freddy wants her to stop her business in helping him. Her parents want her to stop messing around and find a husband. Now, Miss Frye wants her to stop interfering with herself and Jacob’s plans. It was only ever ‘stop’ and never a push-- an encouragement to ‘go’.

Frustration rioted in her blood. Her hands were shaking. They held each other tighter.

Maybe they were right. Perhaps it would be easier for everyone if she stopped doing and simply let herself be. Freddy only wanted her to be safe and sane. Evie was saying this to protect her and keep London’s best future on the cards. It wasn’t selfish of them to ask; it was selfish of her to disregard.

It was considerate, the part of her mind that wasn’t fire and brimstone thought-- soothed.

“That sounds fine, Miss Frye.”

It’s for the best, the growing calm of her thoughts said in an effort to pacify.

“You have a fair reason for asking.”

All will be well and fine, her mind-- now having ceased its chattering-- assured.

“I’ll let him down gently.”

[heartshredded]

unnecessarily long list of bruno HCs / history: 

1. Past 

Kindness (1): As a child, we know that his mother thought of him as kindhearted, and that it would be his downfall. Ever since he was young, Bruno was always someone thoughtful, he was the type who supported others rather than lean on them for support, whether they’re strangers or not. He knew that his mother would forget about his father and him, so he picked his father who needed support more. 

Father: He loves and respects him, his father was the light of his childhood and an inspiration to him even as he grew up. He was a simple fisherman who worked hard to make a living, as a child he had saw him help others without expecting anything in return. Bruno was devastated when he ended up in the hospital, and he would do anything to defend the only light in his early life. 

Murder: The streets of Italy are home to many criminals, the police force don’t do their jobs properly without corruption and greed being involved, Bruno knew that they were easily bribed with money. In order to protect his father, he resorted to murder, to him it was justifiable. The gangsters after his life were scum to him, trash, after an innocent man’s life and a single father no less. 

2. Teenage Years

Passione (1): In order to protect his father, since Bruno could not be hanging around his hospital room all day, he reluctantly approached Polpo and cleared the arrow test. In exchange for protection for his father in the hospital from the gangsters, he would work under Polpo’s command. He genuinely hates the mafia and wants nothing to do with them, but at this point he had no other choice. 

Passione (2): Bruno found out that Passione was involved with the drug trade, and the gang was also the main reason his father passed away in the hospital, thus his hatred for the mafia only grew. There was nothing Bruno could do, only hoping that someday Passione would change and stop harming innocent lives through drugs.

Drugs: He freezes up whenever he sees someone affected by them, and will go out of his way to help and consolidate them. Bruno might lecture them on why they would even take drugs willingly, especially with the profound effects it has and the amount of junkies he has seen over the years. Even if it is only helping one person, Bruno will do it, one person is better than none.

Kindness (2): Bruno, once you get past first meetings and aren’t an enemy, is a very caring person. He can be strict and stern as a leader should be in times of emergency, and he puts his teammates first before himself. All of his actions mean well even if they come off as mean, and he would not force anyone in his squad, instead he would give them a choice. His kindness has put him in a disadvantage, but his opponents before Giorno were not stand users, so he didn’t have too much trouble fighting back.

Recruitment: While people would not pick people off of the streets but avoid them instead, Bruno believes in hearing someone’s story. He firmly believes that people are not what they seem, and perhaps some really are as bad as they look, but the majority were simply treated unfairly. Bruno dislikes the mafia lifestyle, but the job gives him enough money to help out the locals and he isn’t afraid to share the money among everyone.

Fugo, Narancia, Abbacchio and Mista: He truly loves his whole team, and there are many times he wishes he could provide them more than simple comfort and words, but all of them inevitably joined the mafia lifestyle like he did. In all of their cases, they had already been abandoned by society, so Bruno still thought joining Passione was much better than whatever option was left for each of them on the streets alone. 

Specifically reaching out to Narancia, he had initially wished the boy not get involved with Passione and live the normal life that Bruno never had after their first meeting, but Narancia saw him as a role model and idolised him. Bruno’s acceptance of Narancia was a reluctant one, but hearing about his situation had made him understand that his choices were dim. He had cleared Polpo’s test as well, so Bruno couldn’t object.   

Meeting Giorno: After his fight with Giorno, he was surprised to meet someone who wished to overthrow the don, an idealistic dream that even Bruno himself could not bring himself to try. He knew common sense, and it dictated that the decision was suicidal. Yet he supported Giorno, because he was like the opportunity and pushed he had been waiting for, to finally stop Passione and the don from distributing drugs to innocent people. 

Basically, it was a gamble for Bruno to put his faith in Giorno and even he himself thought it was an impossible idea, but Giorno proved him wrong. Ever since he joined, many events began to spiral them into the events of Vento Aureo, and he knew his gamble was a success at the end.   

3. Post Vento Aureo (Everyone lives AU)

Best wishes: After the death of the don, the whole of their squad begin trying to piece together a Passione that did not rely on drug trades but another method of money. As the winners, they are essentially the new top rankings of the hierarchy in the gang, and the money that Diavolo previously owned belongs to them. 

Assuming Giorno is the new don, Bruno would be a capo, and he would ask everyone in the team what their own wishes were. Without thinking about the rest, just merely themselves, like if Narancia, Fugo or Mista would like to try attending school, or if they had any aspirations or dreams that they would like to pursue now that they did not need to be in the mafia anymore. They were all free from it, and Bruno would support their decisions the best he can. Whether they decide to stay, move on, or in between. 

Habits: Bruno is able to tolerant most foods, he doesn’t complain about it, especially when someone is speaking, and is a good listener. At the cost of consistently self-sacrificing himself, Bruno often fails to take care of himself when there is barely any time to be concerned for everyone else to begin with. On tiring days, he goes to sleep with his hair as how it is, not re-braiding it again, merely combing it to be as bowl-shaped as usual. 

He does drink alcohols in social settings with others and won’t reject them, but he prefers plain water or something that won’t make him drunk. On the subject of alcohol, he isn’t a lightweight nor a heavy drinker, more so in between. You will never see him drunk, he doesn’t drink even when he is stressed. Neither does he smoke.

Locals and Hobbies: He still spends time with the locals whenever he has the chance to, playing football with the children or helping the local auntie in the bakery carry some items, many of the locals recognise and are friendly towards him. There are many moments where he spends time talking to them, to make their day better as they go about their daily business. If you say his name, most would have something positive to say about him. 

Abbacchio: For Post Vento Aureo, Bruno was not surprised that Leone replied with wanting to stay by his side, just because he was who he was.They appreciate each others company.

[wannawrite]

Crownless - KD

who?: Wanna One’s Kang Daniel genre: 🌺 type: scenario word count: 6.1K TW: gang au, violence, blood, hospitals, death

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The Royals PJH | PJH 2 | KD | KD 2 | PWJ

Crownless is the life a Royal had in their past - before crowns had been placed on their heads.

this little series is going to be more angsty because it is the past that is left behind. A good reason has to trigger the want to abandon something Hope you guys enjoy regardless!

- admin l

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

~ 

Seongwoo hissed, feeling blood soak through his best friend’s shirt and coating his hands. His grip on Euigeon’s arm tightened, afraid of letting him fall too far beyond salvation.

“There isn’t enough time,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “You’ll die before any doctor reaches us.”

Euigeon could only groan in reply. His vision was blurred, brain fogged with think clumps of mist. He could feel the energy being drained out of him like a tap left running. Euigeon could feel Seongwoo trembling, supporting his weight while sustaining his own injuries.

Maybe Seongwoo was fearful too.

The sound of sirens and flashing white lights spoke to Seongwoo, warning him that even the pavements with the poorest of lighting were not safe. He had to get both of them off the road.

Now.

Seongwoo stumbled into the darkest alley he could find, shielding Euigeon from the eyes of their enemies. He heaved a sigh of relief when the cars passed by and they remained undiscovered.

But Euigeon wound had started to bleed more profusely, there was no way to harness it. Jaewon would never get to them in time. Heck, who knew if he was even alive. Either way, Euigeon was too far gone for their gang’s medic to patch him up - even if he was right around the corner.

A neon sign flashed against the night sky, it seemed nearby. The sign read ‘Central Busan General Hospital’.

Hospital.

Seongwoo hastily ripped another strip of his shirt to wrap around the gunshot wound, hoping it would sustain Euigeon until their journey was over. There had to be someone who was willing to help them, and it had to be a person who was not going to push questions. It felt like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Sure, no one would notice the enormous gash on Euigeon’s side. The blood on their shirts would be invisible. They’ll get caught, sent to jail, possibly end up spending the next few years of their life there. However, if they did not receive medical attention, there was a higher chance that both may perish. If Seongwoo played his card’s right and trusted Euigeon’s sensibility, then they would be saved.

“Hang on tight,” he whispered firmly. “We’ll be there soon.”

~

The journey was not easy. Most of it was spent ducking down, taking shady shortcuts through a neighbourhood Seongwoo did not hail from.

Busan was Euigeon’s playground. When did his toys become a weapon against him?

Euigeon had become significantly paler and weaker by the time the South entrance was in sight. The area was well-lit and has many people milling around despite the time. It was dangerous for them.

“No,” Euigeon muttered. “G-go by the back emergency entrance. People...p-people...too...many.”

Steering clear of the crowded main entrances, the two boys limped over to the back of the building under the cover of dormant ambulances and vehicles. Euigeon fell from Seongwoo’s grip, slumping over on the steps beside the door.

He could hear his best friend’s frantic voice yelling for help, a mishmash of chatter melding together and a short moment of silence passed before heavy footsteps started to head his way. Euigeon peeled open his eyes with his last burst of energy to see a flurry of worried faces. He felt himself being lifted off the ground, hauled onto a soft platform, giving his body a good break. The last thing he saw was a stark white ceiling, even brighter lights and the telltale diamond white coats of doctors.

~

PATIENT REPORT

First Name: Euigeon Last Name: Kang Sex: Male Age: 20 Diagnosis: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Procedures: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Estimated date of discharge: 12 August 2014 (Dr Yeon Hongseok)

~

PATIENT REPORT

First Name: Seongwoo Last Name: Ong Sex: Male Age: 21 Diagnosis: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Procedures: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Estimated date of discharge: 11 August 2014

~

“Doctor Yeon, don’t you think...it’s getting a bit ridiculous? Why are you going to such lengths to make sure such few people are aware of this situation?” you posed the question, voicing your thoughts out loud. 

Since that strange night, you noticed a shift in your mentor’s personality. Dr Yeon was usually more outgoing and open to other doctors about his patients but with these, he seemed to be protecting them from the world.

His antics frightened you as they were unusual, peculiar and unlike the mentor whose care you had been under for nearly three months now.

After immediate surgery had been performed on those two patients, he ordered them to be warded in the private, ICU ward. Then, the only people with access to the ward were him, you and a handful of experienced nurses. Dr Yeon was the only one who handled their medical reports and often stayed in the wards longer than the nurses did. Your mentor could lose his job if he continued keeping to such extreme confidentiality that some of the reports were clearly mishandled.

Still, he went ahead after your warnings.

It left you wondering what was so special about these two odd patients. They were around your own age, clearly, students working hard to graduate from their respective institutions.

You wondered how on earth one of them got shot in the chest and the other stabbed in the arm - most of their body suffered harm. Their knuckles suffered abrasions but not from recent encounters. Meaning, they were most likely boxers or took part in such a sport.

They intrigued a nosy intern like yourself.

Dr Yeon chuckled, sipping his coffee and scribbling words on another report. “Hardly. These boys are in my care. I’m doing what is necessary. Don’t tell me you gossip about patients in your care to all your friends.”

A guilty red coated your cheeks and you snapped your mouth shut, refusing to pursue the case. That was not what went down in the staff lounge. You padded down the corridor after Dr Yeon, offering brief smiles or greetings to fellow personnel.

The halls became much quieter when you reached the private wards. A different world from general wards.

The scanner beeped happily, recognising Dr Yeon’s ID card and popped the door open. He went ahead to examine his patients’ condition. As usual, they were fast asleep, showing no sign of any movement.

“I promised them to keep all information to myself. There are some matters that not everyone’s mind can handle,” Dr Yeon mentioned. He said it casually but you were certain those ‘matters’ were very serious.

Then he went about carrying the daily procedure. You remained at one side, eying both patients intently.

“Any sign of improvement?” You asked, prepared to scribble down notes.

Dr Yeon nodded without hesitation. “My guess is that they’ll regain consciousness tonight or tomorrow morning. Poor things, it must have been a traumatic experience for these kids.”

You inhaled sharply, hastily writing down Dr Yeon’s words.

Kids.

~

Dr Yeon was correct.

The first one to wake up was called Seongwoo. He was clearly out of it and confused when he opened his eyes. Still, he managed to comprehend a lot for someone who had been asleep for four days.

He called for a ‘Euigeon’ when he first peeled his eyes open. When Seongwoo understood the situation, he relaxed, leaning back onto the fluffy pillows.

Seongwoo managed to stomach a small snack and a short talk with Dr Yeon. Clearly, he was in no condition to be out and about again.

Despite all the pain, Seongwoo remained cheery, much more smiley than the usual patient. His sweetness made you sneak in a candy bar from the vending machine outside.

Euigeon arose a few hours later. As his injuries sustained were more serious, it was expected that he was dazed and less aware of his surroundings.

I mean, this guy got shot and knocked out for nearly a week straight.

Euigeon emitted some sort of boyish, fearless aura, yet a large part of it reflected his goldenness. He was charming, no doubt about that.

There was no control over the blush that washed through your face.

However, his confused and lost antics made you forget about his intimidating aura.

“Doctor,” he called out softly. “Do you like cats? I really miss my cats. But I’m not even sure if I can consider them my cats because all I did was pet and feed them in an alley. They’re my cats, aren’t they?”

Seongwoo traded a look with you before stifling his laughter. You tried your best to maintain a serious face but it posed to be challenging.

“I-I’m sure your cats are doing quite fine. I-if it helps, I can check on them,” you offered, half-jokingly.

Euigeon brightened immediately, his eyes widening. “You’d do that? You’d look after my cats for me, Doctor?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to reply. There was no easy way to crush his cat-controlled heart.

“Um, sure. Just, just give me a location and description of your cats.”

In the far corner of your eye, Seongwoo was chortling with laughter, muffling them with his pillow. A serious deadpan was sent his way.

“Y-you guys relax, I’m going to get Dr Yeon and, and we’ll attend to both of you shortly,” you said while quickly slipping out of the room. Outside, you caught a breath.

Both were undeniably attractive, one was a childish cat lover, the other had a thing for humour.

Your head shook in either disbelief or amusement.

Children.

~

“Euigeon! You aren’t allowed to eat jellies!”

Frantic, you snatched the bag from his bedside and examined its contents.

Gummy bears.

“Where did you get them?” you demanded, worry and anger seeping into your tone. Every patient had a strict diet regime to stick to and this was not sitting well with either of the boys.

Euigeon gulped guiltily, shoving the last gummy bear into his mouth before answering. “I walked to the vending machine outside and bought them. Luckily, there was a dollar on the ground.”

The plastic wrapper curled under your furious grip, cholesterol levels rising faster than Euigeon’s blood sugar levels.

How, how, how, how did all the luck in the world pretty much swing in Euigeon’s direction? He did get shot but he found a dollar on the floor next to a vending machine selling his favourite gummy bears.

“Dr Yeon told us to relax in our last stages on recovery,” Seongwoo voiced through a toothy smile. He seemed eager to get discharged from the hospital.

Your form collapsed dramatically into one of the cushy guest armchairs, raising a hand to rub your temples. “I’m so afraid you guys would die without my care.”

For the past few weeks, you had grown accommodated to dealing and tackling these two patients. As the three of you belonged to the same decade, it was easy to bond over the simplest of things. Still, you had to be strict when it came to their wellbeing. Not only were they your friends, but they were also under your medical care. This added on a ton of anxiety for you to perform well.

It also made working ten times more fun.

Hushed whispers filled the space as you readied their dose of medicines and drips for the hour.

“Everything okay?”

Seongwoo flashed a nervous smile in response. He remained strangely silent as you went through the patient report.

Euigeon was the one to break the quietness that lingered in the air. “W-would you like to know the full story behind...o-our injuries?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be top-secret or something?” you replied quickly, breath catching in your throat and you turned away from meeting their gazes.

What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck

“I’m a boxer at my...a-aunt’s gym,” Euigeon began somewhat cautiously. “I-I,”

“He’s trying to say that we got into a gang fight, with another gang,” Seongwoo jutted in, cutting the long story short. When Euigeon shot him an unamused glare, he raised an eyebrow in response.

“You looked like you needed help.”

Bells began to ring in your ears, alarmed at the confession you heard. Was your hearing betraying you? Did you hear them correctly?

It all added up. The secrecy, the shadiness, how quiet the room was for such loud wounds.

Your frickin’ gummy loving friend with the heart of a puppy was in a gang fight? Unbelievable.

Yet, was it disturbing that you saw no wrong in their status or ways? Was it because they were your friends? Had these kids become so likeable?

“The other gang thought we were messing up their drug supply but we don’t even touch drugs,” Euigeon explained. “Sports and heroin don’t mix. Neither do coke and cats. I think it’s dumb to invest in these substances.”

While it was heartening to know that they were not in the illegal drug ring, gangs in general still frightened you to a certain extent. The news reporters and countless write-ups have not painted their activity in the prettiest of lights.

Moving onto filling up Seongwoo’s report, you decided to press them more. “Why couldn’t you go back to your gang doctor? Don’t all gangs have one?”

Euigeon bit his lips together, pupils shaking uncertainly at your question. Seongwoo flicked his gaze anywhere but remotely near your form.

Eventually, either one of them let out their answer with a sigh. “Jaewon’s as good as dead or gone. We didn’t see him after he got stabbed. Too many people and then the police came.”

“Oh.”

Time passed excruciatingly slowly. Every single movement or sound made was now amplified. The clatter of the clipboards. Clinking of apparatuses against each other. The rolling of trolleys down the hall. Soft crinkles of fabric rubbing against each other.

The sound of blood rushing through your veins.

Your lips pursed, mind reeling hard to think about a possible proposition you could offer. Of course, you wanted to help them. Saving lives was your passion and,,, and these two were your friends.

By far, this was the most,,, unsettling but interesting confession ever heard from a friend - much less a patient. Your reaction had no time to be well-thought through or processed. It frothed out like bubbles from an over-boiled pot.

“Okay.” You finally resumed a proper breathing pattern. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Relief flooded through both their features, shattering any walls of fear that built up over time. Seongwoo beamed brighter and larger than ever. Euigeon nearly choked in disbelief, his crystalline eyes widening.

Empathy.

“And I’ll help you. I’ll always be reachable if you guys encounter anything.”

~

Under a watchful eye, your hands wrapped supple gauzes and bandages around Yiyang’s forearm. He winced ever so slightly at the impact on his gash.

Yiyang was Dr Yeon’s new regular at the hospital. In the wee hour of dawn, he had limped in with a severely twisted ankle.

From that moment onwards, you knew whose hands he would be placed in.

Dr Yeon, who kept tabs on almost every secret society member in Busan.

Yiyang was not the gentlest patient you had encountered but he was not the rowdiest either. He often reminded you of Seongwoo and Euigeon. The thoughts left you wondering about them.

Since August, you had only seen them once in September for a brief patch up. Thereafter, you caught a glimpse of Euigeon’s hair when you had gone to visit his alley cats. So far, it appeared as if nothing dire had befallen them.

Which was always good. Good, their lack of presence in the hospital hopefully signified they had been well off.

“Look after yourself, Yiyang. I hope to see you in better shape soon,” you said earnestly, offering him a reassuring smile.

The boy flashed a million dollar smile, nodded and promising to heed your advice. Dr Yeon stepped in, instructing him to rejuvenate for a few hours before getting discharged. “You and your dislocated shoulder are going nowhere.”

With a small smile, you slipped out of the curtained off area and back to the busy hallways. There was nearly never a moment for ER personnel to rest.

Suddenly, a nurse came rushing in your direction. He grabbed your arm, muttering incoherently about how there was somebody who requested to see you.

“Bloody wound...”

“He’s losing a lot of blood...”

“He only wants you to treat him.”

The thudding of your heart began to increase, along with your footsteps which quickened in a flurry.

Euigeon. Seongwoo.

Hunched over the side of the reception counter, Euigeon was pressing a hand to a bloodied spot above his eyebrow. Red marks streaked the sides of his face and dark lines were smeared across his clothes.

Shit.

His mouth stretched into a smile of utter solace when his eyes fell on your form. Euigeon tried to wave a hand but the pain was too much for him to raise one.

“Stupid,” you cursed under your breath as you reached his side. “How can you be smiling at a time like this?”

You placed a finger over his lips before he could reply and assisted him to the nearest treatment room. Thankfully, it was nearby.

Euigeon managed to haul himself onto the cushioned platform, he inhaled sharply. “I need help.”

“I have eyes, Euigeon and now, I want to hit you in the head. What happened? What did you do? How did this occur?” Rubber gloves were stretched onto your hands in record speed and you carefully began to assess the damage done.

Euigeon hissed when your finger pressed down a little bit too hard on the injured area. Justifiable, the cut was sizeable and rather deep, the edge of it jagged.

“This needs stitching up,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “What caused this?”

Euigeon shifted his gaze and smiled sheepishly. “I was at a bar when a person, probably from another gang, threatened to fight Jihoon, my...my coworker. It was a dumb reason.”

A hum left your lips in response, encouraging him to continue the story.

“I ran, Seongwoo ran, Jihoon ran but not before he punched the other man. We were a good block away when I tripped, and that guy smashed a beer bottle on my head. My memory is fuzzy after that but all I know is that Jihoon and Seongwoo hyung got him.”

“Did they drop you off?” You began to collect and gather supplies to begin cleaning the wound.

Euigeon pressed his lips into a fine line. “I hope so. I can’t...remember exactly.” He dropped his voice a notch lower. “I’m scared, y/n. Those are my brothers. T-they may have gotten hurt. God, I’m so scared for them. They need me.”

His loyalty was admirable, really. But in his condition, there was no way he could be of any help to the other two.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find them if they need me. Calm down,” you whispered soothingly into his ear, pulling him in for a hug. “Trust me. You’ll be fine. You’re in my hands now.”

A warmth spread through your body when Euigeon returned the embrace. Your stomach clenched when he tightened his grip around your shoulders.

Oh, Euigeon, how would I ever patch you up?

~

Grinning like a fool, Euigeon was wheeled to his rest area that had been prepared. However, he passed by a bed that held a strangely familiar occupant.

Once he realised who the identity belonged to, air caught in his throat and every organ in him coiled. He felt unsafe and insecure.

At the very least, his bed was pretty far away, that managed to partially douse his worries.

“Who is that in bed 528?” Euigeon asked as he settled into his own. It was those sort of ER areas where there were many beds, sectioned off by a blue curtain. For the most part, his section was quite empty.

At his question, your brow furrowed. “H-his name is Yiyang. I-I don’t suppose you know him?”

You pulled the blanket over Euigeon’s form, ensuring he was well tucked in.

“I-I do! He’s with a society called SMRK. They’re known to have quite a few international contacts. I don’t suppose they like my friends and I,” Euigeon hissed in a hushed tone. His jaw was clenched, ticked off by Yiyang’s presence.

For privacy, you shut the dividing curtains, wrapping a bubble over the two of you.

He sighed wearily, shutting his eyes tight a couple of times. “C-can you...not attend to him?”

“You know I can’t do that, Euigeon. It’s my job to make sure he’s well. And, he isn’t a completely bad person,” you tried to reason, patting the empty space on his pillow.

“I-I know. I...I-I’m just so afraid of losing you,” Euigeon confessed suddenly. He reached for your hand and held it tight. “I trust you, y/n. I-I like you a lot and I can’t stand the thought of you not being here. SMRK members are dangerous, they’ll-“

“Euigeon, don’t worry so much.” A red blush bloomed on your face. “If I can handle you, I think I can deal with anyone.”

“Stay here with me.”

You froze, eyes wide and shocked. You gulped visibly, taking a glance at the situation outside. It didn’t seem like they were shorthanded anymore so how much would a break hurt?

So, you grabbed a chair and sat next to Euigeon’s bed, hands entwined. He seemed at ease in this state and it made you all fuzzy inside.

“I’m serious.” He murmured with shut eyes. “I’m serious about liking you.”

In response, your grip around his hand tightened, you ran your thumb over his bruised knuckles. The pesky heart of yours threatened to burst out of your ribcage, thumping faster than a regular beat.

A tiny smile graced your face just thinking about what he said.

~

You had just breezed through the hospital’s entrance when Dr Yeon caught you by the arm and dragged you in the other direction.

“We have to evacuate. I’m getting you and Yiyang out of here before it’s too late,” he mumbled under his breath in an urgent tone. “People are convinced the hospital is a trading ground and hotspot for gang activity. Untrue but I received a tipoff that an organisation plans to raid it tonight.”

At his words, you felt the air being knocked out of your body and your eyes began to water.

“We’re just doing our jobs as medical personnel. Granted, I’ve done my fair share of good and bad. If we work fast enough, no one will get hurt and all would be well.”

Dr Yeon was a lot more alert of his surroundings, he investigated every nook and cranny of his workspace.

Turning to you, he said, “I’ve arranged for an ambulance to take you, Yiyang and Celeste to the nearest hospital. Thanks to his recklessness, that boy won’t be stable enough to run for himself today. You need to get out of here by 6pm. That’s when I’ll call the police to come in and patrol.”

“Why can’t we just stay here since the police are coming?” You wanted to minimise movement as much as possible.

“The reason behind the raid is to find and eliminate rival gang members I suppose - people are so crazy. Yiyang is one of them. Since we don’t know if there are spies, we have to mess up our schedules to throw them off track. I’m going to double check my records. Only Dr Jeon, Dr Jung, Nurse Celeste, Nurse Taeyang and you are aware of this.”

For the first time in your career, you felt like quitting and running. But here you were, scrambling to pack for the journey to the nearest hospital. Celeste’s report on Yiyang was that he was fast asleep, making the plan slightly harder.

Basically, to protect your patients, colleagues and yourself, you had to get out of here. You had no major worries about the aftermath, you would handle it when it happened.

Work was hard to continue when your eyes were trained on the ticking clock. Every second felt like time wasted.

It seemed like the higher-ups of the hospital had played their cards right by calling in more security. The guards gave you some sort of assurance that nothing too crazy would happen.

Hopefully.

When the clock struck 5pm, you and Nurse Celeste tittered out to where the ambulance was supposed to be waiting. You placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her when you realised something was amiss.

“Don’t move.”

Inching closer, you saw how the driver was awkwardly hunched over the wheel. And discovered why.

He was knocked out cold.

You forced the scream back down your throat but it tore through the defences when an arm encircled your waist in a way that made your skin crawl.

However, before whoever it was could act, they were slammed to the ground with a series of punches.

“Euigeon!” You gasped in disbelief and in horror. Now was the wrong time for your boyfriend to be here.

“I heard the news too,” he growled out through gritted teeth. “I have to help.”

You shook your head urgently, urging him to run as far as he could. Even though the plan was somewhat disrupted, it wasn’t to the point of entire failure.

“Euigeon, if you stay any longer, you’ll be dead for sure. I don’t know who’s behind this but I don’t intend on finding out and you shouldn’t either,” you argued, willing him to escape while he could.

Adamant on staying, Euigeon shook his head. A few moments later, Celeste and Taeyang burst through the doors with a sleepy Yiyang in a wheelchair.

Immediately, Euigeon’s gaze snapped to the half-conscious boy. He huffed and looked away, clearly conflicted.

You gulped, slowly stepping away from the vehicle, eying the unconscious driver and attacker on the ground. “Euigeon, I’m going to get security and Dr Yeon. D-don’t...please don’t do anything stupid.”

You turned on your heel and dashed into the hallway, fingers frantically swiping across your phone’s keyboard. To your utmost horror, Dr Yeon was uncontactable -  that made your blood run cold.

“Y/N!” Dr Jeon called your name, she was by the lift lobby, waiting. “Quickly! Gather your things. I’m staying behind.”

“Have you seen Dr Yeon? I can’t seem to reach his phone.” Your breaths were ragged and your chest heaved from all the running. “The driver has been attacked, I’m sending security his way right now.”

She grabbed your wrist before you could move, surprise evident on her face. “They know our plan...”

In one fluid action, she stormed into the lift, forced the doors shut and hit the basement floor buttons.

“You, Celeste and Yiyang have to get out of here...Now.”

The world above you began to shrink as the elevator hit rock bottom. Anxiety levels skyrocketing. Dr Jeon had called multiple people in the span of a minute. She brought her hair into a ponytail and stuffed her lab coat into her bag.

When the two of you arrived at the ambulance, Yiyang and Celeste were ready to go. You threw your bag in with her, more concerned about Euigeon.

He sat in the driver’s seat, door open and unfazed by the happenings. “They brought the driver into ER and the other guy has been arrested. Things are going well.”

You managed a small smile and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. In his arms, you could believe his reassurance that everything would be okay.

However, all serenity was broken by a loud commotion inside the hospital building itself. You prayed that the security would handle it.

Where the hell was Dr Yeon anyway? Where was his signal?

“It's time,” Dr Jeon said, revving the engine and gesturing for you to get inside.

“Go,” you whispered into Euigeon’s ear. “Circle round and I’ll meet you at the South entrance.”

He frowned, brow creased in protest. “B-but-“

“I will be there,” you declared with determination. “Take this.” You unhooked a small plush lion keychain from your phone case. “His name is Daniel. He’s always made be feel braver. So, even if I don’t come back for you, I’ll come back for him.”

Euigeon clasped the golden plush toy, rolling his eyes at your remark. He was scared for you but because he trusted you, he nodded. Fleetingly, your lips pressed against his before he stepped into the ambulance.

“See you soon,” he breathed.

~

Taeyang shook his head when he saw your face. “You don’t want to be here right now. I thought you’d left ages ago!”

“The hospital’s on lockdown. All the wards are sealed because the threats are worsening. Only a master key can open them. Don’t worry, one nurse inside the wards has one in case.”

You questioned him about Dr Yeon’s whereabouts but Taeyang had no clue either. You were not leaving without your mentor. He would be a prime target since he was the one helping the gang members. You had to ensure his safety.

At least Euigeon’s safe now...

That thought managed to make you feel more at ease, stumbling through strangely empty corridors.

“I’m sure Dr Yeon will find his way around things. There are police cars surrounding the area, nothing can go wrong,” Taeyang reasoned. “Now, we need to get you out of here. The fire escape should be the fastest way.”

He shoved a pocket-sized general first-aid kit into your hands for ‘anchoring’ purposes.

The emergency door recognised your work pass and slid open without qualms. You were eager to be reunited with Euigeon and everyone else.

Taeyang took a step forward...

And came face to face with Dr Jung, a gun in his hand and within point blank proximity.

“We were just leaving.”

You blinked and Taeyang had bolted the door shut but not before a bullet was fired into the wall on your side. Dr Jung roared and pounded on the door, firing another shot such that it broke the thin glass panel.

You screamed and Taeyang cursed, running down the hallway.

“Dr Jung?” you shrieked in shock and horror. “He’s the traitor!”

It was a slap in the face for you. A slap in Taeyang’s face, who worked closely with Dr Jung. His betrayal would knock the last nail into Dr Yeon’s coffin.

“Stairs! Stairs!” Taeyang yelled, pointing in the direction of it. Without hesitation, you raced down the steps, two at a time. Just as you were approaching the third floor, the door on that landing was thrown open by...Dr Yeon!

“Hello, Taeyang and Y/N!” Dr Yeon looked roughed up. His coat was half off and a bruise was beginning to form under his left eye.

“Lovely to see you guys here! Sorry I couldn’t get any calls! A virus infected my phone so I had to smash it. Then, Jung’s people got a hold of me but I managed to escape them!”

Or so he thought. Because before you knew it, a hoard of footsteps and shouts followed behind.

You changed staircases in order to throw them off your trail. Unfortunately, these people were smarter than their knife-wielding exteriors and followed suit, pursing the chase.

The burning in your thighs only ignited further, your lungs stung with the force of air you were inhaling. Everything hurt.

Thankfully, the back part of the first floor was not as chaotic as the front entrance. It became much easier to manoeuvre through the crowd.

Policeman. Civilian. Jung’s henchman.

The world became a bunch of muddled blurs. The noise was slowly growing softer and softer but the blood rushing to your ears became audible. Perhaps this was why you could not even process when something came down on your head, hard.

Air had been knocked out of your body. Vision had been stolen from you. White pain seared your entire being. You awaited another painful blow, but it never came. Instead, you felt two strong and familiar arms grip your shoulders and yank you to your feet.

Drowsy, you were able to make up Euigeon’s worried and pained face. His mouth was moving but you couldn’t make out any of the words he was saying. Only when you spotted a bloody patch on his side, did your senses awaken.

Euigeon had gotten stabbed because of you.

He pressed one hand to his side, the other arm supporting you as you limped towards the exit, towards the ambulance.

It was in sight, red flashing lights and all, sirens sounding like a wail, bringing your hearing back.

There was only room for one other injured person on board...

It’s me they want...not Euigeon. He...he didn’t have to get hurt. He doesn’t have to be hurt. He needs the help more than I do. They don’t need him. He’ll be fine.

“Come on! We’re almost there!”

“Euigeon...” you called out weakly, gazing at him for the last time. “There’s only room for one of us there.”

“No!” he protested, pace quickening as much as he could. “Don’t say that. They can work something out. Yiyang’s fine now. There’s space.”

But he was wrong.

With trembling lips, you forced yourself to emit words. “Euigeon, I don’t care if I don’t make it on. I can catch another one later. You need to make it on this one.”

Tears were flowing freely down your face but you didn’t care to brush them away. All you wanted to do was to hold him, all you wanted to feel was his skin against yours.

“I love you. And I never will stop. You’ve given me so much life in such a short time.”

There was just enough time for you to kiss him deeply, for him to grant you a goodbye kiss, though he was still denying the fact that you were slipping through his fingertips.

“I love you too. So, I’ll stay here. I’ll hold onto you, we can perish together. I don’t care because I love you,” Euigeon cried, refusing to let go even as the ambulance doors were being pried open. His tears were wetting the sides of his face, unable to stop flowing. 

I’m selfish. I can’t let you have what you want.

You nodded, savouring the fast few moments. Wishing all that he had said would be true. You would never forgive yourself for being selfish and wanting things your way. You prayed that with time, Euigeon would understand and forgive you.

So you held onto him for as long as you could.

In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the unbecoming, you tried so hard to prevent. In the centre of the world collapsing on your shoulders.

Then, with all the strength you had left, you shoved Euigeon into the ambulance and slammed its doors shut. You willed for your friends to understand, for them to just drive off.

Maybe they thought you were onboard too but either way, the ambulance sped off despite Euigeon’s endless screams and pounding against the shut doors. 

You doubled over in the carpark, energy gone, blood staining your hands and clothes. Sorry for being selfish, sorry for failing, and sorry for being empathetic. At least nothing hurt anymore.

Euigeon never saw what happened to you but he heard a gunshot resound and that was all he had to hear.

He felt numb, void and the worst part was that all he could do was clutch your lion plushy and wish that he was with you.

~

A year later...

Seongwoo: ahhh, a new start, a new university, new identity Seongwoo: Seoul really is a metropolis Seongwoo: can’t wait for you to get to hq ;) BoA outdid herself with the crazy property Daniel: can’t wait, hyung! be there soon :)

Euigeon, well, Daniel, glanced back at the fluffy clouds dancing above the blue Busan sky. For a moment, he wanted to return back to his hometown. But it was only for a moment. An insignificant amount of time.

Still, he didn’t stop himself from looking at his hometown. The place he had grown up, had shaped him, had birthed him. In a way, he was sad to leave but he promised himself a fresh start. 

Taking deep breaths, Daniel played with a soft golden lion plush toy. He smiled at its whiskery muzzle, heart throbbing in the best way possible.

Finally, he clipped it onto the zipper of his backpack.

Daniel had a crown now. He had a branding now. He wasn’t a skinny kid running around the dark alleys of Busan, he was a man made for Seoul.

Still, he decided that there was no harm in bringing a treasured part of his Busan life to Seoul. There would always be a dash of that Busan boy in him. Everything that happened there, a year ago, a decade ago, were all parts of his life that he kept close to his heart, and no amount of moving would help that.

[gruntadminloch-moved]

For someone who seems so shaken up about innocent people and pokémon getting hurt by someone else's uncaring selfishness, you sure are quiet when the people who you consider 'family' forcefully separate pokémon from their trainers and sell them off for a quick buck. And if what the Kahuna's saying is true, looks like your 'great organisation' has blood on its hands as well. Do you feel better when you can't see the faces and bodies of the innocent this time round?

[Re: Agitation. | Askbox]

His dark look simply slides over.  Somehow, it seems like anger superceeds his anxieties right now–or perhaps it’s because he sees you and see an outsider, an outsider upon an outsider, not in this Team, not from this region, completely unaware of the situation you’re preaching at him over.

So he takes a step towards you, smiling a little bit. But not his usual smile, the one for visitors or the one for grunts–not even the playful one for strangers.  This smile is a little bit different, emptier and colder.

“Ah, yes, go ahead. Speak on what you know so little over–try and tell me that you know more than I do about my own situation.” Another step.  “Do you know why I’m so bothered by this, haole…?  Do you know why I hate Tapu Bulu so much, so personally…?

“Do you even know…why I’m here, in this organization. In this life. Why I’m not another smiling ignorant who says the Tapu’s word is law and that skips along merrily under the Alolan sun, giving and receiving all the Alola spirit of the land.

“I speak of innocent deaths.”  He knocks a Pokéball–a Heal Ball, to be specific–off of his belt.  With a flash, a Drifblim is released from it, stretching her ribbons and droning her ghostly song.  “By all means, tell my sister, who died from Bulu’s assault, that I know nothing of the loss of innocent lives.”

Raehela, for once in her unlife, flinches some.  Loch doesn’t usually talk about these things, least of all so firmly, least of all so…angrily.  Usually it’s nightmares, fear, quiet tentative reveals if he decides to speak of the experience that brought him to where he was now.  She couldn’t see what was happening then, but she could hear it, feel it, remembers the sound of her home crashing down around her, the muffled sounds of screams and cowbells and terror through the rubble around her.  She made a shaky noise, reaching to comfort her brother, but he shrugged the ghost-type off.

“The village that was lost, the innocent people that were lost, were my own.  The innocent Pokémon that were lost were my own.  I was nearly among them.  I barely managed to avoid losing my leg.”  A gesture to the ugly, almost scale-like, caved in scar that takes up the bulk of his left calf.  If one were observant, they may also notice the other scars that cover that side of his body, though none as gastly as the one on his leg.  Another step forward.  It’s hard to notice, as he’s spent so long hiding it, but Loch does walk with a slight limp, doesn’t he… .  “I barely managed to avoid losing my life.  All because that thing decided that the deaths of a small group who happened to be in my home village at the time were more important to prioritize than the deaths of the entire village they were in. The Pokémon, the people who’d spent their lives living in its praises, the children, everybody, everything.  Nothing was more important there than Bulu simply crushing everything in a several mile radius.”

He ducks his head.  “I was doing…so well.  A completely different person, because of the trials, strength I attributed to Bulu, thanked it for.  I thought it gave me the strength to overcome myself.  But when I’d found myself, or so I’d thought, it took everything away.  It took the Pokémon who’d been by my side that whole time away.  It took away my sources of safety, it took away the place I called home, it took away the ones I loved most, and it took me away with it.”

Another step closer, into your personal space. Whether he has to look up or down to be eye to eye with you, or if you’re on level, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I had nothing left.  Nothing.  I woke up in hospitalization, looked over what was left of me, saw that I’d not a single Pokémon left to my name, my challenge amulet had been shattered, my home had been destroyed, the village I’d grown up in, no matter how poor my upbringing, had been destroyed.  Most of my possessions, destroyed.  A great deal of my body suffered.  I wished I’d been destroyed in full with everything else.  Because what was the point when the power that you’d been raised to believe had done everything for you, had brought you into this world, had given you strength, was your guardian throughout your whole life, what you lived for, turned its back on you and destroyed everything you ever treasured, found meaning in, had hopes for, lived for.  The ‘Guardian’ of Ula’Ula Island ended my life.  I, an Ula’Ula native, was pushed away by my own guardian, my own people, because that guardian had left me for dead.

“In the end,” he looks to Raehela, gripping the ribbon-arms she’d tied around his hand, giving a squeeze as if reassuring–who, however, was vague, “A soul came back to me.  It wasn’t mine. But it did give me a purpose again, to see my sister again, even if she was…not herself. as I’d known her, but something much deeper.

“I tried to exist on my own for a while.  Tried to move forward–but they knew I was from there. They knew I was meant to have had died in that attack–after all, if the Tapu destroyed the whole village, destruction was meant for everyone in that place.  I was supposed to be purged, like so many others.  The Tapu no longer walked with me. The Tapu no longer protected me. To the people of this island, this region, I should be dead. To them I’m a worthless outcast whose mere existence defies the Tapu’s order.

“The Aether Foundation was looking into living and displaced Pokémon after the attack.  To take care of them.  They said that if any of my Pokémon had survived, they would be there.  It was a spark of hope–and a sign that perhaps I could do some good in the world, find a place for myself…but that fell through, as well.  I didn’t belong there, either.

“Eventually, I found myself among the other outcasts. The other trial failures, the other rejects of a society they were likely born and raised into.  ‘Outsiders’ for whatever reason others deemed was so.  The ones for whom it was decided for them that they would never amount to anything, all because they, perhaps, would not, could not, were not able to finish their trials. For whatever reason.  It could have been their Pokémon. It could have been disability–physical or mental.  It could have been life situation.  But those deemed ‘failures’ in the trials are deemed ‘failures’ in all other aspects of life in Alola as well.

“So many lives.  A village full.  And now a town full of outcasted ones.  Not just from Ula’Ula, but from all over the region…so many lives taken away by old mindsets, by traditions that hurt, by a deity that they called Guardian for so long.

“And perhaps it is cruel. Perhaps it is unfair. But I ask you:

“If the Tapu and the traditions of this region may take innocent lives, may end lives as they deem fit, may simply do as they please without criticism or protest, why can the people not do the same…?

“And so we protest. We fight. We tried to be peaceful.  We tried to live normal lives.  But we were pushed away.  Even if this isn’t the life we want–as thieves, as thugs–what other choices do we have.  We can’t have other lives.  They won’t accept us into their businesses, they won’t let us have our lives back.

“And so we, like Tapu Bulu had taken mine, had taken my sister’s, had taken my Pokémon’s, had taken my family’s, had taken my village’s; like the other Tapu, like the traditions had taken so many lives…

“We will take our own. Until we are heard. Until we can live peacefully like everyone else.

“But we know that’s impossible.

“But if the Tapu can simply kill and do as it pleases and still have its ass kissed and worshipped, have its praises sung and its every whim and opinion agreed with, if it can simply do what it pleases, why not the people?  And so that is how this Organization is, dear Haole.  Blood may be spilt, things may be stolen, but we’re only taking back what was robbed from this land already.  Most blood spilt is in self-defense.  Hardly, rarely innocents.  Other gangs, other menaces, those who try and harm us when we’ve already suffered so much.  We may steal Pokémon for profit, but we have so few other methods available to us–most of which are unsavory or insufficient.

“I’m quiet because they were quiet. I’m complacent because they were complacent.  I sneer because they sneered at me, told me that perhaps I should not have angered the Tapu and my life would not be this way.  They blamed me and the other innocents for losing their lives.  For being pushed away.  For an action outside of our control. For not running because we knew we’d done nothing to warrant attack, and as such were not the target. For bunkering down and hoping it would be over soon, for trying to live our lives as normal while the Tapu did his work. For being killed regardless of the songs and dances and ceremonies and everything we’d done from birth to that moment that was in the Tapu’s name.  For being killed and rejected despite having had not been the problem.

“And when I’m not quiet, I agree. It’s a shame we have to live this way.

“But we’ve been left little other choice.”

A shove.  “So, perhaps, haole, you should not speak of problems and situations and circumstances of which you know nothing about.  Perhaps you should ask more questions in your life.  Wonder if what’s around you is fair.

“Perhaps, if more people asked questions, if more people weren’t complacent, there would not be a Team Skull in the way there is today.  If there were somewhere for us, resources for us, for those who lost or were kicked from their homes, for those who could not finish their trials, for those who couldn’t become professional trainers, for those who don’t live the peaceful, brochure-picture-perfect life of Alola, we wouldn’t be what we are or do what we do.

“But as it is?  That’s not the case.  And so here we stand.  Here we fight and protest. Here we try desperately to live the only way we’ve been allowed to try.  And the options left for us are shunned as we are.

“So what are we to do.  I suppose, if the only options we have left are to be the horrors people tell their children of at night, the warnings not to do this or do that ‘or else you’ll end up like them,’ the cautionary tales, then that is the role we must play.“

A sneer.  “Unless you have a better idea, since you seem to know so much.”

[incensuous]

shitty idiots

fandom: tokyo ghoul characters: ayato/touka rating: M shield thine eyes children (TW: EXPLICIT INCEST PWP) ***questionable consent!!*** takes place after ayato and gang kidnap ken and... if things don’t make sense... please forgive me... 

When his underlings and Yomuri made their escape with that ridiculous Kaneki fellow in a bag, Ayato told them he had some personal business to take care of, glancing at his sister, and he’d be back at headquarters soon.

Ayato gazed down at Touka, almost unconscious on the floor, and briefly wondered if in the years since he’d left her, his beloved aneki had found a lover or even a boyfriend. Did he care? Surely, he didn’t.

So he wasn’t sure what to make of his actions when he roughly hauled her to her feet, after convincing himself he didn’t care if there was already someone who had the pleasure of fucking his sister yet. 

He stared down at the face resembling his own, while she gathered her bearings. How funny, he pondered. When he left, he’d barely been eye-level with her, but now he easily towered over her. He carded nimble fingers through her matted hair, which very well could have been shorter than his own locks.

“Still a tomboy, aneki?” he murmured, trying to sound condescending enough to assure her and himself there was no affection, none at all, seeping into his voice.

“What do you care?” Touka glared up at her younger brother, but there was no true bite to her words, like always. Never, not for Ayato.

He smirked, his eyes lidded in that perpetual way of his. “You’re right. I don’t.”

And he chanted to himself, don’t care don’t care don’t care I don’t care, even as he swooped down and crushed his lips against hers. It was all teeth and searing heat and he was fighting her with his mouth and neither of them were surprised when she rose to the challenge and fought back, even in the state she was in. 

He had her pressed firmly against walls smeared with blood; some of it her own, and none of it his. 

When they parted abruptly, due to the lack of oxygen, he found her eyes roaming over his face. He inhaled deeply, the pungent aroma of gore lacing every breath. 

“You’ve grown a lot, Ayato,” she whispered, sounding almost soft.

He scoffed. Was that really all she had to say?

Touka narrowed her eyes up at him, after observing his outfit, and gave a smirk all too familiar. “But, are you still trying to prove something with this?” She reached up with a hand to tug at his earring. He also didn’t miss the lingering, almost amused glances over his black hoodie and ripped jeans. 

He minutely winced at the rough treatment on his piercing and in response, he grabbed her hand to slam against the wall. “You’re such an idiot, aneki.” And he didn’t want to hear her talk anymore so he continued kissing her, hard enough her lips would bruise with his tongue battling hers, all the while pressing his hard body into her softer frame. 

He was so much more muscular than she’d remembered. In the back of her mind, Touka yearned for her old brother again—the one who was scared of bugs and swore to protect her and to listen to her. But, she acquiesced, with her one free hand braced against his now broad shoulder as he roughly grabbed at her hips, she still loved this new brother of hers all the same because he was still Ayato.

“We’re both idiots,” Touka managed to murmur in response when he had suddenly leaned back, panting raggedly. 

He didn’t respond verbally, instead violently pulling a chunk of her hair so her head tilted back. Ayato left open-mouthed, wet kisses all over her neck, making his way down to her collarbone. When his lips found resistance in the form of an innocent collared shirt, he tore it open to suck harshly on her bare skin, just above her heart. His mouth then moved to greedily suckle on her pert nipple while his hand roughly teased her other breast. 

Touka’s hand left his shoulder to grasp at his wild tresses. “Your hair is so long,” she commented breathlessly, while her eyes remained closed. “But still so messy.”

How could he tell her he wanted her to shut the fuck up? He stretched his mouth wide and bit down harshly onto her shoulder and she shouted in surprise. Feeling his sister’s warm body all within his grasp and her sweet blood filling his mouth and smell invading his nose made him lose all sense of rationality.

His long fingers made quick work of the tights covering her thighs, tearing them to shreds, after rucking her stupid uniform skirt up around her waist. 

Ayato pushed his own jeans down past his ass and without even checking to see if his aneki was ready for him, he roughly lifted her leg, and thrust his hips to enter her quickly, sheathing his hard length inside her completely and drawing sharp gasp from Touka. He choked out a groan at her wet heat gripping him so tightly. 

He wasn’t sure how it was physically possible for his sister, who was so harsh and cold to literally be so soft on the inside. Touka moaned lowly against his earlobe and Ayato realized belatedly, through the foggy pleasure overloading his senses, he had met no resistance when he plunged in her—she’d been just so wet. 

“You’re such a fucking slut, idiot aneki,” he growled against her collarbone, mostly because he didn’t want to look at her face or he’d lose it. “So wet for your own brother.”

In response, Touka roughly tugged at his messy hair, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tightened her leg around his hip. “Shut up, shithead,” she intoned harshly before clamping her teeth on his ear eliciting a low grunt, while bucking against him. 

Ayato wildly pounded into her, building up an unforgiving pace. He lifted his head ever so slightly to peer into her face—all flushed and sweaty because of him. “Aneki,” he called out, uncharacteristically softly, just as he bucked erratically before he came deep within Touka in long, violent spurts. 

She shuddered as she felt her own climax sweep through her body, pulsing through her veins. Touka moaned softly, feeling the warmth fill her. 

Panting, the younger brother held her tightly as the two of them rode out their orgasm. With a few last shallow pumps, he emptied all of himself, his cum mixing with her own. It took several minutes before their breathing returned to normal. 

Touka expected him to rip away immediately and leave her alone, all over again. However, after all these years, it seemed as if Ayato had become insatiable in all things, including her. Instead, her brother leaned back just enough to spin her around, pulling her ass towards him causing her to bend forward to grasp at the wall, and hastily buried himself back inside of her cunt with a low moan. This time, he slipped in even easier.

He made quick work of her sensitive clit with calloused fingers and rough friction in and out of her. His hands dug brutally into the flesh of her ass and her waist while he held her steady through his pounding. 

The third time he entered her, he had her back pressed up against the wall. He growled lowly against the shell of her ear, “You belong to me, aneki.” He didn’t even know where the hell it came from, but as soon as he did, he emptied himself inside of her for the last time. He heard her keen with her orgasm peaking and he didn’t even know if she heard him at all. 

Touka whispered, “Ayato,” and he harshly ripped away from her, just as she expected, leaving both of them very cold and very bare, even with most of their clothes on. Touka cried out and had to lean back against the wall for support, knees weak from both the fucking and the battering Ayato had given her earlier. 

He stared at his sister with lidded eyes, only inches away from him—face flushed, chest heaving, his seed dripping out of her pussy. A frown graced his swollen lips. Not taking his eyes off her, he slowly zipped himself up, cock still glistening with his sister’s juices and residual semen, and Touka was only left in her tattered uniform. He turned away to head out the same way he had come in. 

Before he lept out the shattered window, Ayato gave her one last glance and murmured lowly, “The weak can’t protect anything.”

[gritrisen-blog]

v; protectorate

     Lofty though his dreams did aim, Katsuya Jonouchi never quite lived the life of a pro duelist; not for long, anyways. There were always better cards, newer strategies, younger players...     His success in dueling was modest, at best, and though he did go toe to toe with the likes of Yugi Mutou & Seto Kaiba, it ultimately was not meant to be. 

     If you ask, he’s never quite sure where the ‘derailment’ began. Whether it was the discovery of his love of cooking, “finally having enough of Kaiba’s bullshit”, or that pesky fistfight turned viral video, his answer always changes. In the end, though, Jonouchi stepped away from the spotlights of the dueling world -- and for the first time since graduating highschool, set foot into the dingy apartment he had once shared with his drunkard father.

     It was strange, stepping through the door and not having to dodge a haphazardly tossed bottle; almost as strange as the fact that his father hadn’t been homeless when he’d died. In fact, the malicious old bastard had somehow paid his year in advance, and as his only living kin, the apartment had passed to Jonouchi when the drink had finally taken him. Alas, no amount of begging could get his landlord to give the rent back -- so, Jou was stuck with an apartment filled with memories he detested, in a neighbourhood that had not improved throughout the years. 

     The people, the shops, the gang in charge -- it had all changed, and not for the better. There seemed to remain only frightened folk and addicts, people who couldn’t afford to leave the apparent tyranny of the neighbourhood yakuza. As Jou remembered it, they had always been there, but the previous gang who ruled their turf had been one of substance and at least some amount of morals -- but no longer, evidently, was that the case. 

    The first time he heard Hirutani’s name, drifting out of the pachinko parlour, he suspected he was more than just a patron of the gambling den. It didn’t take much to find out that he was right, even while keeping his head down and his nose in his own business. Hirutani ran the neighbourhood in the same shit way he had run his schoolyard gang.

     At first, he told himself that it was none of his business. He kept his head down, focused on the job he’d gotten at a restaurant not far from his old neighbourhood, and did his best to keep from being identified by Hirutani or his thugs. He was one man, far removed from the politics of the gangs -- he had no power, no influence, and though he had strength and courage... well. He knew that meant very little in the face of a hundred men with guns and knives. So, though it made him sick to do it, he refused to be drawn in. Not when he saw drugs passing from hand to hand, not when the shots rang out down the street, not when he watched protection money wasted in the hands of men who would rough shop owners up regardless -- 

    But the girls.     Them, he couldn’t ignore. 

     The revolting practice of kidnapping someone and selling them like cargo or cattle was the final straw that Jonouchi could not ignore. Worse, he didn’t need a vivid imagination to know what was going on with the poor souls who were dragged overseas and into Hirutani’s sweaty hands. He still knew quite well that he could do little to stop them on his own, though -- even if he burned the parlour to the ground and somehow managed to not get murdered over it, they would just move to a new location, as if nothing had happened. 

    Time and experience stayed his temper, and though he had always been slow with strategies, better suited to the role of a bruiser than a boss, Jonouchi formed a plan.     Hirutani, after all, was far from the only boss in Domino City -- and if Jou remembered anything about the jar headed punk, it was that he had a penchant for pissing people off. As it turned out, he knew well one man who wanted Hirutani gone, whose son was more than able to vouch for Jonouchi when he offered himself into his service. Akio’s father had only vague recollections of the blonde haired boy, but they were enough for him to offer Jou a place within their gang, and a family with which to reclaim his home.

     In many ways, his plan required returning to a life that he had once thought himself gone from -- but the more he did, the more he found that it was a life in which he belonged. Too long he had tried to deny who he was, believing firmly that he could not hold his morals and ideals and the skills of a thug. Too long, he thought, he had been wrong. 

    In the end, Jou did what the police would - or perhaps, could - not do for his neighbourhood, finding aid in a family who had a great interest in watching him break Hirutani, from his small empire, to his face. He was welcomed with open arms and rewarded for his service and loyalty, rising swiftly through the ranks of the Yakuza to become a liutenant for Akio’s father. The deeper he delved into that life, though, the more his guilt pushed him away from those he had become close to. Children’s games and the shining light of Yugi’s friendship were things he did not much deserve, and he hated to think that he could endanger them or drag them down to his level, no matter how much he tried to delude himself that he was doing good. He cut contact with them not long before inciting a war between Hirutani’s gang and the one to whom he swore his own loyalty, and left everything at that. 

     Now, Jou’s old neighbourhood is nearly unrecognizable. Several high rise buildings and condos have replaced ratty old apartments and drug dens, paired with classy bars, a fine restaurant named Salamandra managed by none other than Katsuya himself, and shining businesses and stores. It’s almost hard to believe that the area is funded by the Yakuza, and used for gambling and drugs -- yet those with longer memories can recall a time when the gang war threatened to tear the neighbourhood apart. Things are better now, though - and under the Tanimoto family’s guardianship, and the watchful eye of their lieutenant, things are likely to remain that way.      ( And god help anyone who dares threaten the neighbourhood that Katsuya calls his. )  

[dietarysalad]

Street War – Prologue

(An AU setting). Tokyo's largest street gangs, the Yorozuya and the Shinsengumi, were at constant odds. There wasn't a soul in Tokyo who didn't know that. The same was meant to be true for their youngest members – Sakata Kagura and Okita Sougo. However, the definition of 'hate' was not all that it seemed.

It was a rainy day when the Yato siblings were picked up by Sakata Gintoki.

With his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, a scarf wrapped securely around his neck and no particular destination in mind, Gintoki walked through the back alleys of Tokyo. His white hair was drenched by the pouring rain as the skies continued storming, as if to mock his lack of an umbrella. He sighed and continued his trek, his boots tracking mud along the wet pavement.

As he slinked about in the shadows, Gintoki's thoughts turned to the group of ruffians who were likely waiting for him to get back to their hideout. The Yorozuya, huh? He allowed a bitter smile to cross his face. Those idiots sure picked a lousy good-for-nothing to follow. At the age of eighteen, Gintoki had chosen to drop out of high school rather than graduate and continue onto university. As such, finding a job was practically impossible for him as he had no qualifications or prior experience. Money was tight and Gintoki had stepped out from the Yorozuya hideout to collect his thoughts. That was when it had started to rain.

Rather than curse at the storm, Gintoki relished in the feeling of the cold, wet raindrops hitting his skin. It provided a momentary respite from his worries about the future. However, he knew that nothing lasted forever and the Sun would eventually return, bringing with it a reminder that a lowlife such as he was not fit to live in this world. He had nothing to live for – no life goal or special talent service society. Even those idiots in the Yorozuya have family to return to. But Gintoki did not.

His thoughts steadily grew darker and darker, the grey monotone of his surroundings was expressive of his emotions. However, Gintoki's inner turmoil was interrupted when his eyes fell upon a red splatter on the ground. The colour was so vivid, Gintoki almost thought that it was a trick of the mind. Is that blood? He slowly crept towards the red that had pooled on the pavement of the dirty alleyway and knelt down next to it. Upon closer inspection, he found that the red colour that he had thought was blood had actually been the hair of a shivering, young boy. His dark clothing had blended into the rest of the dark alleyway and his vermillion hair had been the only discernible feature about the boy.

Gintoki gently grabbed the boy's shoulder and shook him, hoping to encourage a reaction from him. In response, the boy gave a light groan and flicked one eye open. His face was scrunched in a painful manner and Gintoki couldn't tell if the wetness on his cheeks was sweat, tears or rain. Upon realising that Gintoki was looming above him, the young boy folded his body protectively and turned his head to glare at Gintoki. As he moved, Gintoki noticed a small bundle in the boy's hands. Peeking out from within the oversized coat that had been wrapped around the bundle were strands of hair which were similar in colour to the boy's. Siblings, Gintoki noted. Or maybe they could be cousins. It was an unusual hair colour to have in Tokyo, though Gintoki's hair colour was arguably much more unusual.

"Listen up, old man," the boy growled. "You touch me one more time and I'll make sure you don't have any hands to touch anyone with again." Gintoki gave the boy a look of amusement and held his hands up in surrender. If he was old enough, he'd make a great Yorozuya. "Alright, kid," Gintoki responded, his voice low. "But you'd better get home. I'm sure mummy and daddy will have a warm meal waiting at home for some brats like you." "Don't got none." "Huh?" Gintoki made a surprised face while the boy gave him an indignant look. "Parents are dead, we ain't got no home."

The boy's words were so blunt and normative, as if he was telling a shop clerk what was on his grocery list. So there are kids like this too, huh? Gintoki was silent for a while, before he stood up and began to slowly walk away. With his back turned towards the boy, he halted and spoke again. "You coming?" he asked. "Huh?" This time, it was the boy's turn to be surprised. "I don't have any food, but I've at least got some strawberry milk. That should do it for some little brats, right?" The boy scoffed. "My parents may be dead, but I know better than to follow strangers around." "Suit yourself," Gintoki shrugged. "But if you stay out here much longer you'll both die of hypothermia. Your choice."

Gintoki began walking again, his steps purposefully slow. He could hear rustling from behind him, as well as a couple of grunts and a quick 'sorry' followed by a weaker 'it's okay'. Having stopped completely, Gintoki turned his head around to find the boy struggling to balance a little girl on his back whilst covering her with a jacket that did not seem to belong to either of them. The task appeared a little difficult as the girl was about three-quarters of the size of the boy. He needed two hands to secure her to his back, but that left the jacket to slide onto the ground. Grumbling in frustration, the boy moved to try again when Gintoki stepped towards them and gently lifted the girl and the jacket into his arms, cradling her as he deftly wrapped his own scarf around the boy using his free hand. Before the boy could protest, Gintoki had turned and crouched down onto the ground, his back facing the boy once more.

"Get on," Gintoki stated, gesturing towards his back. With not much choice, the boy grasped onto Gintoki's collar and hoisted himself up. He quickly felt Gintoki's hand secure itself to his leg firmly, ensuring that he would not fall off. Even though Gintoki was thoroughly soaked by the rain, both children felt unbelievably warm as they huddled against him. It was not very long before the little girl in his arms fell asleep as Gintoki walked over to Snack Otose. A bar it might have been, but he knew for sure that the old lady that ran the place would help him out with the children.

"Are you gonna tell us your name, old guy?" the boy on his shoulders asked. Gintoki chuckled at his rudeness. "I'm barely an adult, let alone an old guy. But you brats can call me Gintoki." "That so? Well, I'm Kamui and my sister there is Kagura." Gintoki hummed as he continued walking. As he left the alleyways, he felt a bit more of a spring in his step despite being weighed down by two children and twice as much water weight than before. The warmth against his chest and back filled him with an energy that he did not know existed within him and, as the rain grew lighter and the clouds parted to reveal the setting Sun, a happy smile graced Gintoki's face. I suppose I can hold onto this world for a little while longer.

That night, Gintoki went to bed in his small apartment with two children at his side. Both Kamui and Kagura had stolen the majority of his blanket and the cold, autumn night had him chilled to the bone. However, the expression on his face showed that he really did not mind. As he closed his eyes to join the two children in sleep, he felt Kagura's small, thin body latch onto his torso as she made herself comfortable. "Mami… Papi…" she had sighed, a mist of sleepiness enveloping her voice. Gintoki smiled, a tired look in his eyes, and hugged the two children closer.

He had only planned to take care of the children for a short while until they could find a better home to stay in. However, when a year had passed and Kagura and Kamui announced that they wanted to take the Sakata name, there was no denying the tears of happiness that fell from his eyes as he pulled them close once again.

Author's Note

Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to read all the way to the end of this prologue chapter. ♥ This isn't my first fanfiction, but it is my first OkiKagu and my first fanfiction in many, many years. I do have a friend who reads over it before I upload a chapter, but I know that no-one's perfect and there may still be some mistakes in my writing. Please go ahead and tell me if you find any mistakes, or if you think that there are any oddities in my writing. I'll do my best to try to fix it. ^^

Oh, and one more thing! I'm also not a very good writer of, uh, romance. So - who knows who this story will go, ahah. Let's all hope for the best. I've planned everything out though, so maybe it'll be okay. That's all for now - see you when I next update (whenever that is)!