#but the hues are not…! bc she’s alive and he isn’t…!

[swordmaid]

having Thoughts about astarion currently and particularly abt him being undead as in I like the idea that he forgets to blink sometimes, and mimic breathing, and his skin is very pallid, his hair is a dull shade of white/grey and his red eyes looks kind of murky and there is no light in them. also like the idea that his face - even tho there’s wrinkles - looks too smooth, almost a mask, like hes very striking in an uncanny way, and if he keeps himself still he looks like a statue of some sort. and he paints colour on himself to look more alive but the pigments sits above his skin, not sinking in, and the only time that his complexion looks flushed and alive is when he’s feeding on something. most esp if he’s full and sated..! like for that brief moment his cheeks are flushed and he looks alive and thriving and panting and his eyes look more vibrant as if there’s life in there but then it disappears gradually. post canon astarion who’s no longer bound by cazador’s orders and who’s more or less free to eat whoever he wants looks more alive than bg3 spawn astarion (I think he is so malnourished in that era) and he has a slight colour on his cheeks bc he’s keeping himself fed but not enough to look fully alive, only just. think ascended astarion looks more alive than spawn though only bc I don’t think he’ll deny his whims and he’ll just eat whoever whenever while spawn has more restraint.

anyway I was also thinking of the possibility that spawn kind of drops that facade of a living creature, and he doesn’t bother putting on his pigments and makeup as much, and he uses less of his perfumes especially when he’s galavanting off to who knows where. maybe in settings if he’s visiting the city or meeting new people he’ll put his perfumes and makeup again - but sometimes he doesn’t, he doesn’t think he needs it. I also think about shri’iia liking his decay corpse smell hehe maybe she’ll find it familiar considering she grew up in the braeryn and there’s probably a corpse dumped in every gutter she’s like oh you smell like home 🥰

[mythicamagic]

Sesskag week Day 7: hurt/comfort

Summery: Decades have passed since the Bone Eater’s well closed. Kagome discovers an injured Sesshoumaru within the shrine grounds one day, having fallen through time into her era. Until the well opens again, he is stuck within modern times, but finds an unlikely bond with the unaging, isolated miko. Oneshot. For Sesskag Week Day 7 - free day. 

Rated T

7,700 words

AN: For the last Sesskag week prompt it was a free day, so I chose Hurt/comfort, with a side order of angst bc that's what I'm about lol sorry for the late entry.

Warning: some grief

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

Together Alone

The sun blazed brilliant hues of orange as it ascended the horizon, slowly inching further into a tangerine sky. A figure stepped outside, feeling a slight breeze tease at the ends of her hair. Not for the first time, Kagome gave thanks to whoever had decided to build their home on a hill, blessing them with the ability to see the vast spread of Tokyo city. Flinching as she stepped out of the shade, blue eyes focused, and she blinked, adjusting to the light.

Walking further into the courtyard of the silent Higurashi shrine, she noted an abundance of leaves scattered around the place. Great piles of flame-filled colours had accumulated, spread out like her own personal confetti. Kagome smiled ruefully.

Autumn had arrived.

Having overslept, she took up a broom as an excuse to move stiff muscles. As she swept the stray leaves up, amusement touched her face. The image of a redhead fox leaping into the firey leaves played through her mind. She didn't stop to acknowledge the nostalgic thought.

As she brushed a few leaves with a little too much force into a waiting, bigger pile, Kagome noticed a tuft of something white sticking out of it. At first, she assumed it to be feathers of some sort and poked the broom over the pile slightly. Yet the more leaves she uncovered, the more white she found, until a particularly long strand of it made her pause.

Hair.

Her miko powers flickered like a forgotten lightbulb that had long since fizzled out, briefly awakening. Sensing a presence under the leaves, Kagome's face became unreadable as she crouched down. Beginning to pluck them off, some of the fine silky strands clung to her hands, and her fingers twitched in response. It felt so soft. The thick volume of hair eventually gave way to pale skin. Kagome's eyes widened. A pointed ear lay under the pad of her thumb. Hastily sweeping the remaining locks aside to reveal a demon's delicate features, the priestess stilled, breath catching.

To say he was beautiful was an understatement. Ethereal perhaps. She couldn't suppress the quiver in her fingers, spying magenta markings adorning his cheeks. Her heart thundered, and she swallowed thickly.

"Sesshoumaru."

Viciously suppressing the ache in her chest, she held out hope that he wasn't lying dead on her doorstep.

Shaking his shoulder, she noted the muscle beneath her palm that his slim figure belied. He was dressed exactly as she remembered, albeit a bit more rumpled, armour broken.

"Hey-" she cleared her throat. "Wake up sleeping beauty."

Feeling for a pulse, a steady thrum fluttered under her fingers.

Kagome gave a huge sigh of relief even as his eyes remained closed.

Reaching through the pile and awkwardly sliding her hands under his arms, Kagome was heedless of the falling leaves scattering around them as she started dragging him. Hoping the Daiyoukai wouldn't kill her for touching him without permission, she heaved, returning back inside with her unexpected guest.

----

Stirring a few hours later, a bright cosmos of golden fire burned alive within demonic irises as his eyes snapped open, blinking up at the ceiling.

"Where...?"

Kagome sat in an armchair near the couch he lay upon, reading. She turned when hearing his voice, rising. "You're in my home."

The moment his gaze swung to her, Sesshoumaru jolted upright. He stared in disbelief, raking his attention down her body. "Impossible."

"I didn't die all those years ago, so I'd say it's pretty probable that I can stand here in front of you," she smiled a little, offering him a glass of water that had been waiting on the table.

Sesshoumaru's eyes widened, shifting fractured attention around the room, returning it to her and observing the contours of her face. "Why have you not aged?" he carefully inquired. "Many years have passed. 20, if memory serves."

Kagome's lips thinned and she set the glass down again. "I dunno, something happened with the jewel or the well. I couldn't figure out which, so-" she smiled wryly, spreading her arms out and turning in a circle. "I'm pretty much physically stuck at age 16. Even though I'm actually around 36. I don't know if I'm just not aging or if I'm immortal. It sucks."

He blinked, scenting the air. "...This one is not picking up the smell of death lingering around you as it does with all humans. Immortality can be assumed then."

A complicated expression crossed her face. "O-oh," she murmured, falling quiet.

Raising a brow, the demon ghosted long claws over his face, something slowly occurring to him. "How did this one come to be here?"

Kagome shook herself and scrambled to retain her bravado. "I should be asking you that. Sleeping in a pile of leaves isn't what I expected from the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru. Then again, you always were quite in touch with nature. Going on long walks and stuff," she smiled a little.

"Hn," Sesshoumaru shifted his feet over the edge of the couch, brushing long hair back and stopping to remove a few leaves. "I should be going," he said primly.

"Uh- sorry for interfering but do you even know where you are?"

"Of course I do," he tutted, before hissing and stilling. Pressing a hand to his side, he felt the rough scrape of bandages under his clothing. They were wrapped around his ribs. His face skittered with an unnamed expression, pinning her with a dark look.

Kagome had the grace to seem mildly guilty before her gaze turned flat. "I put your clothes back on after binding your wounds. You're welcome."

"I did not ask for your assistance." His lip lifted, exposing a fang while pressing his palm against his side protectively. Yet he felt no serious wounds, and that the miko had assisted him while he'd been vulnerable was something he had no choice but to acknowledge.

Kagome's hand raised in a placating gesture. "You're on the defensive, I understand that. But don't get crabby," she drew closer. "We were allies in our fight against Naraku. You can still trust me, even if it has been a while."

The passionate, cold glow in his eyes lessened slightly, and Sesshoumaru exhaled. "...This one recalls fighting near the Bone Eater's Well. An enemy struck- and I…" a steel edge threaded his calm voice, obviously frustrated.

Kagome's brows drew together, "you fell down the well," she finished softly, face drawn. "I wonder why it opened to let you through. It's always been closed for me, ever since that day a long time ago."

"Perhaps it is still open?"

The miko looked sceptical and jaded, breathing out and pushing some hair behind her ear.

"I must see-" he stood, eyes widening as his knees buckled. Kagome quickly caught him about the shoulders, pressing against the hard line of his body in order to steady him. Sesshoumaru's nose briefly dipped into soft, dark hair. She smelled of warm home comforts and the stifled tease of holy power brimming under her skin.

It dazed him enough not to realise she'd gently guided him back down to sit. "Stay here, mister. I can't be lugging you about again if you collapse," blue eyes danced. "I'll go take a look. Be back in a flash," Kagome released him and walked from the room.

Sesshoumaru stared, before turning his attention to the structure he found himself in. The house lay near-silent, but he could detect the faint, gravely sound of breathing in another room. A human. Older, weak.

It smiled faintly of feline too, and his keen gaze sought out the thin, discarded hairs of a shedding house-cat littered on the arm of a chair. His nose wrinkled.

Kagome's home also held the strange, buzzing feeling of energy running through its walls like a nervous system. He followed the hum of power down the side of a wall, trailing his eyes over bizarre, thin black rope connecting to a square box in the corner of the room.

"No dice."

He jolted, bristling at being caught unawares. Kagome smiled gently from the threshold, a faint sheen over her eyes.

Sesshoumaru blinked, not picking up the trace of tears. She'd held them back.

"Explain."

"The well is closed again, so looks like you're stuck for the time being," Kagome hummed, tapping her chin. Noticing the alarm flashing in his eyes, she changed her tone to an assuring one. "If it opened once to let you through, I'm confident it'll do it again. You can take the time to heal here in the meantime, no one will harm you. I think I mentioned this to you before but there's no fighting or killing in Tokyo like in your era, so be on your best behaviour during your stay. There's a garden out back, and a small amount of trees bordering it if you want peace and quiet. I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave the shrine though."

"...Very well," he muttered quietly.

Thinking for a moment, the demon decided it bothered him enough to inquire; "who is the aged human in this house? I hear them."

Surprise skittered over her face, soon gentling. "That's my Grandpa. I live here with him alone- ah- aside from Pyon."

Sesshoumaru sneered. "The feline."

Kagome blinked and burst into a delicate laugh- and had it always been so dusty and gentle? For some reason he recalled it being more full of life and childish.

"You'll have to grin and bear it, for the time being at least," she winked. "Want something to eat?"

"I do not consume human food."

Kagome pursed her mouth, and Sesshoumaru fought the incredibly random urge to take her bottom lip between his teeth, quickly shaking himself. "I've got some fresh meats from the market. No seasoning or anything. Will those do?"

"Hn."

---

Due to his demonic blood, Sesshoumaru merely needed to lounge on the couch for a few more hours before feeling his wound tentatively heal.

He listened, hearing shuffling upstairs and Kagome's gentle voice. Sesshoumaru looked over the back of the couch to observe an incredibly aged human move stiffly into view at the top of the stairs. Kagome helped him onto a chair- which then began to slowly descend the steps via a mechanism attached to the wall.

Sesshoumaru stared.

He had never seen such an old man. Usually, mortals died before managing to reach such an age, vulnerable to disease and such. Kagome followed and helped him to the armchair in the living beside Sesshoumaru, smiling at the demon.

"Grandpa, this is-"

"Demon," the old man rasped in an accusing voice, not looking in his direction.

Sesshoumaru arched a brow.

Kagome beamed. "Yes, Grandpa! But his name is Sesshoumaru. Mind your manners."

"Inuyasha can like it or lump it," Grandpa huffed, pressing a small device. The square box suddenly flared to life, making the demon jolt.

Loud noises assaulted his ears, tiny mortals behind the screen doing bizzare things, dressed in costume and talking very animatedly about a- Sesshoumaru squinted- energy drink?

Gentle fingers smoothed over mokomoko. Golden eyes snapped to her touch, noticing the bristling fur she was trying to calm.

"It's just television. This is what people watch for entertainment or if they're bored."

Sesshoumaru made a non-committal noise. He didn't like it.

Kagome smiled at him sympathetically and offered a hand- which the Daiyoukai reluctantly took, pride stinging. He grit sharp teeth while they made their journey through the house, disliking her soothing closeness and the fact that he found her scent appealing.

Eventually, they made it outside, stepping into the lush, rich sunlight and walking through the courtyard that stretched wide. Sesshoumaru glanced around. "The smell of smoke and other fumes are distinct here."

"It's because of the city," Kagome murmured, arm around his waist to hold him steady. He suspected it was a habit she'd gained from looking after Grandpa. The demon did not need her assistance but also neglected to push her away. "That's Tokyo- see. It's what Kaede's village will become."

Golden eyes followed the point of her finger, gazing out at the large, bustling city beyond the shrine. It looked nothing like he'd ever seen before. Their buildings were tall and imposing. He knew the miko to be from the future, but Sesshoumaru hadn't taken much time to envision what it would be like.

"Why do I not sense any demons?" he muttered.

Kagome winced, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know. I haven't sensed them in the city."

"They are likely cloaking themselves from detection then," Sesshoumaru confidently assumed. Anything else was unthinkable.

The miko didn't reply, watching him glance around.

"Hn, this one was going to sleep out here. However, I do not think it would be a peaceful rest."

"If the garden isn't to your liking then I'm not sure what else to recommend. I do have several plants inside my room, they can make the air feel more clear, right? You can sleep there if you want."

"Very well," he uttered, moving to brush past her. A hiss escapes clenched teeth when his ribs blazed to life with pain and he found herself resting against her side for a moment. Kagome's warm hand felt steady on his waist. She didn't breathe a word, assisting him back inside.

---

It was a painstaking process to try and usher the proud demon up the stairs. Kagome had almost suggested taking Grandpa's stairlift before Sesshoumaru's narrowed gaze had swung to her, stifling the words on her tongue.

"Is this is your room?" he asked once they reached it.

"My childhood bedroom to be exact. I sleep in Mama's old room now," Kagome arched a brow, expecting his sharp tongue. "Is it to your liking, my Lord?" she teased.

"It is very… pink."

A smile quirked her lips. "Hopefully the bed is big enough for you. There's a bathroom in the hallway if you want to be experimental and take a shower. There's always a bath too. Do you need anything else?"

"No."

"Alrighty then, goodnight."

Kagome's heel drew back and she turned, moving away. She was rewarded with the soft cadence of his voice.

"...Thank you."

She blinked, wondering why those words made warmth fan into her hollow feeling chest. Glancing over her shoulder, the miko watched with fascination as he settled onto her much too small bed, silver hair tumbling down to the floor. Leaving soon after, a buzzing took flight in her ears that thrummed through her bloodstream.

Tears pricked blue eyes, and Kagome leaned heavily against a wall once she'd reached the privacy of her own bedroom, pressing a hand to her mouth. Unmitigated relief choked fire up her throat, battling with resentment.

She'd worked hard. She'd worked so damn hard to keep the memories of her friends in the feudal era hidden away in a box. To continue living every day in the cold, repetitive present time.

Cramming her feelings away into that neat and tidy box again, Kagome pushed away from the wall to go check on Grandpa for the umpteenth time.

---

Mama had died at the much too early age of 57.

It had been so long since the well had closed. Now at 36, Kagome supposed she should've probably shared her secret with more people, to keep her in a friendship circle of some sort. Souta had moved out, married and had kids. He still visited sometimes but it didn't feel like nearly enough. She supposed her isolation made her needy, though Kagome never voiced it.

Sesshoumaru had gotten antsy waiting around. He'd consumed almost all the reading material in her house already during his stay, soaking in information like a sponge. "I wish to see the city," he uttered, shooting the cat a glare as Pyon brushed against her leg, purring. "Despite the foul smells, if this one is to remain here for a little while longer, I should like to know my surroundings."

Kagome hadn't refused but had given a few conditions. One was that he couldn't go off on his own (lest he be angered and melt a car) and two, that he looked and dressed the part.

Dying her own hair the colour of chestnut in the bathroom, Kagome had offered a bottle of black hair dye for the demon lord. Sesshoumaru, while holding his nose, had flatly refused.

To her surprise then, he'd swept claw-tipped hands through snowy silver locks, the colour bleeding dark black.

"H-how did you do that?" she'd asked, rinsing her hair over the tub.

"It is a simple enough thing to modify one's appearance when you are a strong enough youkai," he'd sniffed.

When she'd finally finished up and wandered downstairs, he flicked his attention over her appearance just as she drank him in. The magenta stripes and crescent moon were missing, claws retracted but nails still sharp. He couldn't hide the pointed ears, so had swept dark hair into a low ponytail so that the thick volume of strands covered them.

Kagome's hair had been cut shorter, now above her shoulders and appearing brunette.

"Would it not be easier for you to wear a wig?" he asked, uncertain why she needed a disguise too.

She blinked as though roused from a dream, cheeks colouring. "Maybe, but it feels easier to step into a different persona like this. Besides, it's been so long since I last wandered around outside the shrine. We tend to get all our stuff delivered here."

Sesshoumaru arched a brow. "How long has it been?"

"I think 5 months?"

He stared but didn't say another word. In accordance with her conditions, Kagome uncovered father's old clothes from the depths of the attic. Mother had kept them in mint condition for years, so she'd refrained from discarding them. Sesshoumaru dressed in the old white shirt, business shoes and suit jacket, finding the latter a little too small.

"Can't you just enlarge your body into it if 'it's simple enough to modify one's appearance?" Kagome teased.

He tossed her a dry look. "Outward appearance. Some things cannot be changed. If I could adjust myself so easily, I'd have re-grown my severed limb much quicker."

She giggled, trying not to eye him in the navy suit. Noticing his struggle with the black-tie, she sighed and drew closer, reaching up and fixing it.

Golden eyes snapped to her face, body stilling as though waiting for something. Kagome flashed a small smile, gently tapping the area beneath his eye. "You'll have to do something about these as well," she murmured.

Pale lashes lowered slightly, animalistic pupils rounding. Gold dulled into earthy brown tones. "Humans are so plain in appearance."

Kagome pinched his side. "Rude," drawing away and grabbing some contacts, she slid brown over her naturally blue eyes.

Sesshoumaru frowned, wandering outside into the stuffy, clogging city air. Perhaps to humans, it didn't smell so intense, but he was Daiyoukai. Superior senses were hard to mute.

Hearing the creak of wheels, he glanced over one shoulder, watching Kagome help Grandpa outside, pushing his wheelchair. "You are bringing him?" he uttered flatly.

Some of her old temper sparked across her face. "I can't leave him alone, and besides, Grandpa could use the fresh air."

"Are the sakura blossoms in bloom yet?" the old man asked listlessly.

She smiled, tucking the blanket over his legs a little neater. "No, Grandpa. We're in September, so it's a little late."

He grumbled in discontentment, becoming quiet as Kagome wheeled him towards the back of the shrine. Beyond the trees was a road that zig-zagged down to houses.

"What are you doing?"

Kagome glanced back at Sesshoumaru, who stood within the courtyard near the stone stairs she'd used to take for walking to school. "I can't wheel Grandpa down those steps. Well- I can, but it'll take a lot longer and I'm- AHH!" she yelped, feeling an arm wrap around her waist and yank so that both feet left the ground. Sesshoumaru then reached down and lifted Granpa's chair above his head with one hand- the old man barely reacting to the elevation.

Sesshoumaru lept into the air, sailing down the shrine steps in a fast descent, dark hair fanning out behind him. Kagome screamed, clutching his side as the demon carried them down like they were nothing more than pizza boxes he needed to deliver.

Touching down at the bottom of the stairs and releasing her, Sesshoumaru set Grandpa down, who hummed.

"Thank ye, Inuyasha."

"I am not Inuyasha."

Panting, Kagome clutched at the floor, whipping her head up to glare at him. "What the hell?! Don't do that without warning! Someone could've seen- Grandpa could've fallen!"

Sesshoumaru snorted. "You act as though this one could make such an error."

Growling, she straightened and started wheeling the old man down the street. Trying to ignore the thrilling flush of her cheeks or the memory of flying through the air on Kirara or Inuyasha's back, she shook herself. Her heart hadn't thundered so fast in years. "Behave yourself or we go home."

Cutting his eyes to the sky, Sesshoumaru followed at a languid pace.

---

Tokyo proved to be ridiculously large. Sesshoumaru had assumed he'd be able to traverse the city on his own if the two mortals slowed him down, but as it was, he feared getting lost within the bowels of technology, noisy arcades and large buildings.

Walking around made him more aware of the ill-fitting suit jacket, though he did not protest. Oddly enough the miko took him to a store and bought a sleek black jacket that was more his size. He'd glanced at the price tag and noticed the card she used to pay, wondering how she supported herself.

Kagome took him to more shops and bought more casual wear for the house, including a grey oversized hoodie that he resolved to burn the second they got back.

Finally sitting down at a table outside a cafe, Sesshoumaru took a few breaths. Smells from many different types of foods flooded his nostrils, along with the deafening sounds of thousands of people moving around in huge clusters. He'd been trying to ignore it for hours. His head spun with the onslaught of new sensations and scents. Too much.

"Hey-" Kagome touched his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Sesshoumaru eyed her, nostrils flaring. Unfortunately, her usual pleasant scent radiating from her hair had been tarnished by the dye. His attention slid to the material wrapped around her neck.

"Give me your scarf."

"Hm?" She blinked but readily relinquished it, handing it over. "Cold?"

"No," he scoffed, wrapping it around his neck and ducking his nose into the material, inhaling. The scent of gentle citrus and warm home comforts filled his senses, soothing them like a gentle caress.

Kagome's cheeks reddened and she glanced away, helping Grandpa eat his soup.

"Izumi?"

Jolting, she looked up in time with Sesshoumaru, who eyed the young male standing near their table with immediate annoyance. He looked happy and star-struck, no doubt harbouring a crush on the miko.

Kagome forced a smile and stood. "Ryota, hey. How are things?"

"They're good! I'm so happy to see you out and about," he burst. "You should've called me- you know you're welcome to come around any time. Dad wouldn't mind!"

"I'm sure he wouldn't," she smiled delicately, not protesting as Ryota took her hand and squeezed it.

Sesshoumaru bristled and busied himself with sipping his tea.

"Ah um- Ryota, this is my friend, Nao," Kagome introduced Sesshoumaru, who inclined his head. Ryota bowed slightly, eyes darting between them questioningly and finding his attention caught on the pink scarf wrapped snugly around the demon's neck. While Kagome chatted some more, Sesshoumaru dipped his head and inhaled the material again, maintaining eye contact with the male. Ryota looked mildly creeped out, which only made Sesshoumaru preen, thinking he'd successfully intimidated him.

"Kagome, did you get me some green tea?" Grandpa spoke up.

Instead of being suspicious, Ryota merely looked sympathetic as she nudged the tea into his hand and carefully helped him take a sip, arthritis having made his fingers stiff.

"I see your Grandpa hasn't improved," the young man whispered to her, before raising his voice to an obnoxiously loud, patronising level. Or at least Sesshoumaru thought of it that way. "Hello, sir! HOW… ARE… YOU… TODAY?" Ryota patted Grandpa on the shoulder.

He grumbled sourly in response, sipping his tea. It didn't detour the teen, who smiled at Kagome.

"Well, the offer is always open, Izumi. It must be so lonely up in that shrine by yourself."

"I'm really alright. I have Grandpa for company," Kagome gently dismissed.

"Give me a text any time. I gotta get back to class but I'll see you later," he said amiably, hurrying into the passing crowd while checking his watch.

Waving him away, Kagome retook her seat with a sigh, "whew. He's sweet but I feel like saying 'buddy, I'm actually old enough to be your mom'," she giggled, pausing and noticing Sesshoumaru's stare. "What?"

"Nothing."

Feeling the need to explain, she sighed. "I was friends with his father in school. I can't hang around him too much or there's a chance Hojo might show up and likely recognise me. I faked my death years ago because I stopped ageing and have been posing as Souta's daughter ever since. We've arranged it so that I look like I'm homeschooled. This way… I can keep living at the shrine and looking after Grandpa."

"That explains why you do not leave the grounds much," he uttered, reading the menu and flicking his gaze up to her. "You are afraid."

"Wouldn't you be?" Kagome snorted. "People might perform science experiments on me if they knew I wasn't ageing!"

"I do not think that is the reason behind your fear."

She bristled and glanced away, telling him he'd hit the nail on the head. "Who knew you were the type to psychoanalyse," forcing a smile, she giggled and stood. "Drink your tea. I'll go pay for our things," she wandered off.

Sesshoumaru watched her go, halting Grandpa's chair without looking as the old man unknowingly tried to wheel backwards into traffic.

"You should take better care of her, Inuyasha," the old man huffed.

"Hn," his eyes remained on the miko.

---

Several hours later, after they'd seen the sights of the city some more and experienced a train ride, the small group had wandered home and immediately headed to bed. Sesshoumaru appeared within her bedroom not long after.

A dark halo of ebony hair spread out on her pillows, the locks curled in disarray. He noted that she slept very quietly, knees tucked up and hands drawn close to her chest. She looked every bit as beautiful and innocent as he'd figured a young priestess could be, but the shapely line of her legs and outline of certain curves made him certain she'd kept up her physical training long after the need for bows and arrows had died out. A pity her powers had been malnourished.

The bed dipped with his weight as he sat beside her, large claw-tipped hand reaching out- thumb ghosting over her parted lips, hovering over the pulse at her neck.

Kinship with a human felt odd. Yet he couldn't deny the telltale flickers of relatability he'd witnessed. He too, remained the same as others around him grew old. That was the price of keeping company with mortals. She was like him, and yet not. Instead of becoming integrated with humans as he had, she'd shut herself away within the shrine; afraid of the pain of loss. Kagome wore loneliness like a cloak, draping it around her protectively. She was now more like a demon than a human in lifespan, but her heart was not befitting of one. Now she almost resembled a half-demon.

And she needed a pack.

Some sickening, cloying emotion dried up his throat, leaving it parched and scratched. It hurt to swallow. His claws quivered, merely inches from delicate skin, before his fingers clenched and drew away.

Kagome did not stir as he moved off the bed, leaving as silently as he'd appeared.

Unbeknownst to the demon, deep blue eyes slowly drew open.

---

"You have not asked about them," he pointed out a few days later.

Kagome paused in her cleaning, before resuming scrubbing a pot with distracted motions. "I guess not."

Memories rose to the surface like a scuffed knee threatening to bleed but Kagome shook them away. "I'm not ready to know what happened to them yet," she amended, softer. "What about you though, how's your uh… stronghold?"

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly. "What?"

"Your palace?" she tried again, seeing another equally blank look. "Estate?" Groaning when he said nothing, Kagome waved her hands in frustration. "Aren't you a Lord or something?"

"Ah," he finally responded, glancing away dismissively. "You heed Jaken too much. I have no official home."

It was Kagome's turn to stare. "H-hah?"

Sesshoumaru arched a delicate brow as though she were the foolish one for daring to assume a regal demon clad in expensive silks had a shiny castle to return to. "My father was a General, and he claimed territory over the Western Lands, but he did not rule it like a Lord. My mother is more high born than he. She dwells within a castle and has noble blood-"

Kagome's eyes lit up.

"But I have no lands to inherit."

She deflated. "So you're a vagabond."

He brushed some hair over one shoulder. "I prefer to think of it as; no one may house me. I may go where I please."

Kagome eyed him dryly. "You're single, aren't you?"

He bristled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Figures," Kagome huffed and lifted the pot, walking to the cupboard as she dried it. "You sound like some sort of playboy bachelor with that 'no one can house me' stuff. Honestly, now that I'm paying attention, you really do sound as young as you look. Like you're 19-" she stopped herself from bumping into his chest as he suddenly stood close.

"... I do not take many lovers," he muttered. "But when I do, it is not for 'play.' I assure you I can be quite serious in a relationship." He loomed closer, breath fanning over her cheek. "Do you wish for a sample?" He asked in a silky voice.

Kagome flushed and huffed, elbowing him out of the way to put the pot within a cupboard. What a joker.

----

Wandering downstairs that night, Kagome stopped, noticing something and doing a double-take. Sesshoumaru lay sprawled on the couch, silver hair tumbling down onto the floor as he slept soundlessly. Pyon was curled up on his stomach-and even stranger was the fact that Sesshoumaru's arm curled beneath him, supporting the feline from falling off.

Kagome crept closer, looking at them from over the back of the couch.

She examined his face in the dim light. It was ridiculously, absurdly handsome, closed long lashes hiding golden eyes that could pierce through her shell and pry into her essence. Cheekbones you could cut diamonds with, framed by neatly parted, snowy bangs.

All the magic from Kagome's experiences in the feudal era was now contained in this one man. A demon that most feared and cowered before. She wondered if she wanted him close simply because of nostalgia, or because he brought her joy in his quiet sarcasm and stable presence.

But he'd leave her too, one day.

Kagome's smile bent into a painful curl of her lips.

Sesshoumaru's nostrils flared and he inhaled- before golden eyes slid open. She stiffened and tried to smooth her forlorn expression into something more amiable. "S-sorry, I'm not watching you sleep, I swear!" she babbled. "Was just wondering if you'd checked the Bone Eater's Well for any changes tonight."

"No."

"Ah, gotcha," Kagome floundered. "At least when it does open, your injuries have all healed so you're fine to go."

"Is that what you want?"

She stopped, feeling like she'd been denied an expected step on the stairs and felt her foot plummet through the ground. Reeling, her heart picked up speed. "Of course it is," Kagome said quickly, turning away. "The Fuedal Era is where you belong, silly. You've been a lovely guest. Really, I've enjoyed it. For a vagabond, you fold your clothes neatly and don't make a mess. You read a lot, so it's still pretty quiet, but you also..." her voice became brittle, "you also- play shoji with Grandpa and make great tea. When I do things, I know you're not too far away. It's been nice. I mean that."

Making to walk away, she was halted by a firm hand catching her wrist. Sesshoumaru had sat up now, disturbing the cat and staring at her with unblinking eyes.

"You should come with me."

Her stomach twisted and she shook her head, looking at him with tired eyes. "I can't."

"Nonsense."

"I have Grandpa to look after."

"Your brother could easily-"

"No, he couldn't," Kagome cut in. "Souta has a wife and a big family to support. He gives us money- weren't you wondering how we're kept afloat? I try to help by doing online work but Grandpa isn't someone you can just expect to look after so easily on top of everything else. I couldn't ask or expect Souta to take over just for me to run off and play in the Feudal Era again, abandoning a life I've known for decades now."

White teeth flashed, exposing a sneer in the dim light, his eyes narrow. "Your Grandfather will be dead soon."

Sesshoumaru never regretted anything. He was too strong, too proud, too confident to make a misstep. And yet at that moment, he regretted the words immediately after they were out.

If she were younger, still the spirited girl of 15 he'd known and the person she outwardly resembled- Sesshoumaru wagered she'd have slapped him. Instead, the miko gave him something that felt altogether much worse; a look of disappointment.

As a demon, he never felt like a young pup except within the presence of his mother and ancient elders, but he experienced it again, watching as she slowly padded to the threshold of the doorway.

"Yeah, he will be. And after Grandpa and Souta go, I'm never going to get attached to anyone again. It's too painful. But I'm making the most of the time with him I have left. Besides," Kagome glanced at him tiredly. "From where we sit, won't everyone eventually be dead soon?"

Sesshoumaru's eyes flickered as she left. The image of Rin with her husband and children, all eventually greying and leaving him alone passed through his mind.

It was true, the miko could theoretically return with him to the past. However, what awaited her would be the same. Time's cruelty working it's will on her friends and everyone she'd used to know in the village.

Drawing himself up and absentmindedly grabbing Bakusaiga, Sesshoumaru wandered to the Well House. He stood within its damp structure for a while in silence, not particularly waiting for a response any more, rather trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

The scent of nameless magic stirred in the breeze. He stiffened, lifting his head and scenting the cool air. Silver bangs lifted to sway, silks rustling. With a small hop, he stood on the mouth of the well, gazing into its dark depths.

With just one jump he'd be home.

Sesshoumaru's muscles coiled, heart thundering. Pushing off from the edge, he took the plunge.

----

Stifling the sound of tears in the bathroom by keeping the faucet running and muffling sobs into her hand, Kagome cried. She hadn't done so in a long time. The action felt childish, but a welcome sensation. Pent up stress, loneliness and frustration burst like a dam. She'd felt the whisper of magic. The call back to the Bone Eater's Well. It had been fleeting, gone now, along with any happy feelings that had been elicited because of Sesshoumaru's surprise presence into her life.

"Stupid," she mumbled, splashing her face with water while bending over the sink. "Stupid, stupid- he was always going to leave."

I shouldn't have gotten attached.

But Kagome was a people person at heart. She'd been afraid. So deathly afraid of getting close to someone and having them leave again. Why had she slipped? Because he would live a long time, just like her?

"That doesn't make him beholden to me- stupid, stupid-"

"Enough."

A jolt shuddered through her system, making Kagome whip her head up to blink at the mirror. Sesshoumaru's reflection lingered in the open doorway behind her, crossing the distance between them as she turned. Lithe fingers ceased her chin. "It is admirable, how hard you have tried to appear unruffled and happy, miko," he muttered lowly. "But you cannot fool my superior senses. I have felt you crying out for pack all this time."

Her expression shuddered, crumbling before his very eyes. "Y-you stayed?" she croaked.

"Naturally," a sharp claw brushed over her jaw gently, collecting the evidence of forgotten tears. "Something I have come to understand over the years is that; One does not abandon pack." 

Kagome's breathing hitched, feeling the keen press of a great weight sinking into her chest and rendering her exhausted. Relief. Wilting like a flower, she leaned into his strong frame, burying her face in the warmth of his shoulder. The demon lowered his head slightly, both soaking in the presence and stability of the other for a moment. Her thin shoulders shook, small noises escaping her.

He growled into her hair. "Your idea of remaining unattached does not suit you. Look at yourself, miko. You grew attached to me of all beings," he smirked slightly. "I do not think you can handle remaining separate from people. You love humans too much. And… besides that… I believe it should be you telling me to make the most of the time spent with others, not the other way around. To make bonds, and keep them."

Lifting her head, Kagome brushed the hot trace of tears away and sniffed. "But it hurts," she said in a wobbling tone. "Aren't you scared of outliving Rin and everyone else in the village?"

"I am not afraid. She and her husband have shared many years together, and I will watch over their offspring for generations," he paused, considering. "Though I am...uncertain how I shall process the grief once it comes."

"You're still going back, aren't you?" Kagome murmured.

"Indeed, and you are coming with me."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Grandpa-"

"We will stay for as long as he lives. After that, you should return home, miko."

Kagome threw him a weary smirk. "And if I refuse?"

"Then, I suppose this one is staying in the Modern Era."

Blue eyes flew wide, fingers curling in his clothes and tightening. She rested her cheek against his shoulder again, letting out a long exhale and calming when his chin rested against the crown of her head.

---

Sesshoumaru did not regret his decision. It was to be just three months before Grandpa passed away in the night. He imagined what would've happened to the miko if he'd left her alone; how she stood together with the other humans at the wake and yet apart. It was the most amount of human's he'd witnessed within the shrine at the same time. Detached via some thin veil, Kagome moved around them like vapour. Cordial and polite, yes, but surface level and unattached. Everyone referred to her as Izumi. No one inquired about her grief.

Souta hugged his sister after the funeral ceremony, and she clung to him. After a little while, however, she lifted her head smiled, letting him go check on his five children.

Sesshoumaru drew close to her side, sweeping his gaze down her black kimono. The colour only brought out the pallor of her skin. He did not speak, but she seemed to read his unspoken question.

"It wasn't as hard as Mama's funeral," she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "I think I'd like to get away from all this for a while though. Wanna come for a drive with me?"

He arched an elegant brow. "You know how to?"

"I got my licence when I was still Kagome Higurashi," she stuck out her tongue. "Souta will let me borrow his car. Come on."

After grabbing the keys, they walked through the graveyard where the remains of cremations had been buried. Passing by a Hinako Higurashi whom Sesshoumaru assumed to be the miko's mother, he stopped upon seeing a certain grave.

'Kagome Higurashi'

He stared, unable to identify what he felt looking at the grave.

"Are you coming?" Kagome called from ahead.

Shaking himself, the demon left it alone, but carried those feelings with him even as he walked away.

---

Driving through the city that night, Kagome tightened her hands on the steering wheel. Despite having lived with Grandpa longer than anyone at the funeral, she just couldn't mourn with the family. Instead of talking about it, she glanced at Sesshoumaru and smiled gently.

"I'm ready to hear about them now."

And he told her, detailing how Inuyasha had fallen in love with a woman who passed through the village one day, about four years after the well had closed. She'd been looking for someone to escort her through dangerous territory. She was not miko nor demon Slayer but a competent hunter who seemed to bear a chip on her shoulder. Inuyasha had gravitated to her like a moth to a flame. Upon their return, they'd announced themselves as a couple and married soon after, two sons following.

Kagome listened, expression wistful. The street lights played over her face as they passed by buildings, her eyes a deep blue, mournful yet pleased at the same time. Sesshoumaru went on to talk about Rin's marriage to Kohaku, Shippo's growth and proficiency in magic, Kaede's passing and Miroku and Sango's fourth child.

They sounded happy, and her heart swelled for them.

Pulling the car over to take a detour down a path on the outskirts of the city, she followed the trail up to a hill that overlooked a harbour. Sitting on the hood together and gazing at the stars, her hand found his.

Ageless attention slid to the miko, who kept her doleful gaze on the heavens. "...Life expectancy isn't very high in the feudal era," she murmured quietly.

He knew her unspoken fears. Going back only to lose her mortal friends within a few years of her return no doubt felt daunting.

Long, deadly fingers shifted to close around hers, holding firmly.

"This one will stay with you," he uttered.

Kagome looked at him, hope starting to coax itself alive in her eyes. "R-really?"

"Hn," the demon rumbled, a vow in his voice. "I will be your constant."

Quelling under the seriousness conveyed in his expression, Kagome exhaled. She touched his shoulder, curling her hand there and smiling shyly, daring to believe him. "Even you'll die one day, Killing Perfection."

A velvety, confident chuckle rumbled out of him. "Not for another 2,000 years or so. Perhaps more. Is that sufficient?"

"I guess it'll have to be," Kagome teased, curling into his side and sighing as his large hand splayed over her back. "When you get close to the end..." she said softly, words a whispered, fragile thing. A vow, just as he'd promised for her. "I'll stop there. When you go, I'll go."

Sesshoumaru glanced down at her, tightening his arm and curling a hand into dark, wild hair. The two continued to bask in one another's energies, faint youki and reiki playing across their skin and weaving in a playful, familiar skitter of auras, finally lacing together firmly like clasped fingers.

Months later, Higurashi Shrine would open to the public again, sold by Souta and allowing the structure to be placed under a new family name.

There was no Izumi Higurashi or mysterious 'Nao' walking around the grounds any more. Tree branches swayed, leaves rustling and falling loose to dance around the forgotten well house, which had been boarded up due to disrepair.

The magic within had finally run completely dry; spent on transporting an immortal miko and prideful demon back home.

End

[photochoco]

First days are always the most hectic

Black Cauldron’s newest recruit learns the ropes. She hopes she isn’t in over her head!

---

Wisty had always loved sleeping late. In a world where the night was eternal, and the city had only colored lights to indicate the time, it was easy to lose track. They often would stay up until the deep purples of “night” would slowly gradate into the bright yellows of “daytime”. People more or less adhered to the idea that yellow was for doing things and being awake, and purple was for sleeping. Though Wisty had found that the city came alive during the purple hours in a way it didn’t when the lights were yellow. They themself worked better during purple hours. Ah, night life.

But if they looked out the window now, everything was just a muddled soup of values. Greys mixed together dully. Had they known this would happen, they would’ve appreciated it all a lot more. 

It’d been several weeks since they’d been cursed, and everything had changed. Wisty had tried to go on with life as normal, but quickly realized that the old “normal” was not coming back. People stared at them, whispered and glared. Creating art had been immensely frustrating. And their friends…

It had all come to a head around the time of their birthday. Wisty always enjoyed throwing a party with all their buddies, and they were determined to make this year no exception. They’d gone all out, decorating with colorful streamers that they couldn’t see, balloons everywhere, and a cake they’d made themselves. 

No one had shown up.They’d been so sure their curse didn’t matter to their friends. Apparently it mattered a lot. They had curled up on their bed and sobbed their guts out for what felt like hours. It hurt, not seeing any color. It hurt even more to know the people they’d considered their friends were so ready to just abandon them for being cursed. So what if their eyes were gaping black voids? So what if they occasionally leaked? So what if they hung out at Black Cauldron? So what if they hung out with cursed people? So what if they were cursed? So what? How could that matter so much? 

I’d love to hang out but...y’know how my mom feels about curses and...yeah, I don’t wanna argue with her-

Uh...what if the witch comes back…? They have tracking magic and stuff so...I don’t know-

Ergh...last time you hugged me, your eye goop got all over my clothes. I still haven’t gotten the stains out. Sorry but that’s just too messed up-

It smells really weird, like chemicals? You sure it isn’t poisonous? Yeesh-

The cake had been shoved into the fridge, but Wisty couldn’t find it in them to tear down the decorations. So they threw on a hoodie and went for a walk. 

It was very embarrassing when, as they wandered around with swollen red eyelids and tear streaks on their cheeks, they ran into Dex by chance. His perpetual grin slipped as he noticed their tears, and very easily got them to say why. Wisty tried to brush it off as not being a big deal, which was very obviously a lie.

An ice cream and 30 minutes later, and Dex had insisted Wisty come with him to Black Cauldron. Something about Ela wanting to speak with Wisty about something. 

What awaited them through those doors was the last thing they’d expected; a surprise party thrown together just for them. Dex, the sly nerd, had told everyone what happened. Said Wisty would not be going to bed without having a party to celebrate their birthday.

Well. After they’d managed to finally stop crying over the touching gesture, Wisty was treated to an admittedly last-minute but nonetheless wonderful party with all the Cadets. Some of them had even gone out and bought them small gifts. At the end of it all, Wisty went home happily, with a full stomach and a camera roll full of memories. These people barely knew them, yet dropped everything to give them a shotgun party. It was enough for them to finally make up their mind.

After the party, Wisty approached Ela with their answer. They wanted to become a Cadet. The new couple weeks were filled with visits to BC to meet with Ela and Harvey. Today marked the day of their orientation, and their stomach fluttered with nerves. They couldn’t really imagine themselves out there fighting yet, but the prospect of it was weirdly exciting. And it gave them something to do while they figured out what to do with their artist career. Sitting in their apartment fighting off a creeping emptiness wasn’t going to help. 

They put on their headphones, tugged their hair out from behind and gave it a flip for good measure before looking themself over in the mirror. Perfect, coordinated, adorable. Wisty adjusted their headphones and took a deep breath, forcing themself to keep looking when all they wanted to do was shut their eyes.

You are okay.

In front of their apartment complex, Wisty wrestled on their roller blades, selected some music, and took off. The breeze as they skated along eased their mind some, and their favorite tunes in their ears eased it more.

They wondered if Harvey had finished designing it yet.

---

The bustling of activity in the bar of Black Cauldron was the same as always, Cadets walking around and chatting with each other. Everyone stopped though, at the sound of something banging into the front door. A few moments later, the door swung open and Wisty practically tumbled through the threshold, a pair of roller blades in her hand. 

“Ack, sorry! Didn’t mean to run into the door like that.”

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Bianca giggled, giving a wave. “You ready for your first day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be!” Wisty said, raising her arms in a stretch. “I’m like, both nervous AND excited?”

A tall mage in a bunny mask rounded the corner, a giant calligraphy pen in his hands. “Ah, perfect. I just finished the final adjustments to your weapon. Here.” Harvey held it out with both hands. Its tip gleamed of newly polished brass. Its long body was black and smooth as Wisty took it in her hands. It was-

“It’s perfect!” she squealed in her excitement. Harvey gave a satisfied nod.

“Aaaand here are your ink canisters. I took the liberty of filling them up for you already. And here are the colors in powder form, just add water. Once you run out I can make more for you. And the colors are in the order you requested so you can easily pick them without seeing the hue. There should be enough ink to last you a whole fight, but don’t y’know, go painting the entire city.”

Wisty hugged her pen and ink pack tightly to her chest like a child being gifted a new toy. “I love it I love it I love it thankyouthankyouthank youuuuuuu!!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down. She hurriedly clipped the ink canisters to the back of her belt before doing the same to her pen across her back. “How do I look?” she asked with a twirl.

Harvey’s bunny mask was stuck in a perpetual grin, but Wisty could glean from his body language that he was quite pleased with his handiwork. “You look ready for your first day! You’ll get a chance to try ‘em out today during your sparring.”

“My what?”

“Sparring!” Bianca appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm around Wisty’s neck. “You said you don’t have a whole lot of fighting experience yeah? Plus like Harvey said, you’ll totally wanna try out your weapon before heading out there, see whatcha can do!”

“Okay…” Wisty said slowly. “But who am I gonna be sparring?”

It was then that she was lifted bodily off the ground by an enormous hand, which wrapped around her middle as easily as if she were a doll. 

“That would be me, cupcake. You should get a feel for what it’ll be like fighting powerful enemies with a lot of physical strength.”

“As ya probably know, ghouls are usually witch cronies, doin’ their dirty work. Not the smartest, but really damn strong,” Bianca added. 

“...Did you just call Pinprick stupid? That’s not very nice!”

“Oh no, cupcake, she is mostly right. Being turned into a ghoul scrambled my brains, hehehe,” Pinprick replied with a wide smile.

Wisty paused to consider this. “...Still! Be nicer to yourself! I’m fairly sure you’re not stupid.”

“My oh my, what a sweet cupcake you are! But no time for chatter, we must be off to the sparring spot!” 

“Oh cool!” Wisty looked down to be put down. “Where is it?”

“Near the outskirts of the city,” Pinprick replied as he squeezed through the small doorframe. 

“Are we gonna walk then? You don’t hafta carry me, I got functional legs!” 

“Nope! No walkin’,” Bianca said, walking up behind them and jumping onto Pinprick’s other arm, balancing herself against his shoulder.

“Rooftop hopping is much faster. Observe!” Pinprick bent his legs.

“WhaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

---

“Here we are!” Pinprick chirped, setting a very windswept Wisty down on the ground.

Well, that was another form of travel she could check off the list. Bianca hopped off Pinprick’s back and tossed a bracelet to the newbie.

“All Cadets carry these bracelets,” Pinprick explained. “They’re a magic disrupter, placing them on witches or ghouls disrupts their flow of magic to incapacitate them. But of course, they don’t always do the job, so you all need to know how to fight. That one is just a dummy bracelet of course, completely harmless.”

“Oh, okay,” Wisty said, turning it over in her hands. “So I just gotta snap the bracelet on you?” 

Bianca and Pinprick exchanged a glance and a mischievous grin, with the former shoving her hands in her pockets and backing up. Way up. 

“Get that bracelet on me, and we can call it a day. Unless you get it on real quick though!” the ghoul snickered.

Wisty unclipped her pen and spun it. “Oof, you don’t have to worry about that. I haven’t done a lot of fighting, remember.”

“Chin up, cupcake, back straight! Cuz here I come.”

“Ok so what--” Her words were cut off as Pinprick’s arm shot towards her at an alarming speed. “ShiT!!” Wisty barely had time to dodge out of the way, one of Pinprick’s fingers clipping her cheek. 

Geezus, he’s fast!! She hopped backwards, trying to gain some distance between them. He lunged towards her again, arm outstretched to grab her. Gripping her pen, Wisty rammed it against his arm, knocking it off course. Undeterred, the rest of Pinprick caught up like a released rubberband. His massive hand swiped through the air; Wisty flipped out of the way in a backwards handspring, her foot kicking his claws away. They felt remarkably like rubber. Her sense of gravity was then thrown sideways as she slipped on her pen. She let out a sharp squawk as she landed roughly on her side.

She barely had time to feel even an inkling of embarrassment before she was slammed into the ground and pinned there by his other hand.

“Not a bad start, cupcake. But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Pinprick crooned. 

Wisty wheezed. “HhHhhhffffiiiihhhhhhhhne- Le’go please my lungs ack-”

Pinprick let her go and she stood up, wincing. Dude could pack a punch.

“Impressive maneuvers! But didn’t you just say you don’t have any fighting experience?”

Wisty swung her leg out to the side. “Gymnastics. And maybe like a month’s worth of self-defense classes while I was in high school. But that’s it.” She gripped her weapon in her hands, tightly this time.

“Ready? Again.” He lunged.

She dodged and slid underneath him, bashing the end of her pen into where she thought the back of his knee was. She must’ve struck true; the giant ghoul kneeled with a small grunt. Wisty yelped in surprise as his entire upper half pivoted to face her.

“Surprise!”

Wisty barely managed to bend out of the way of his swipe. Noticing the ridges on his arm, she grabbed one and swung herself up onto his shoulders. Pinprick bucked, trying to throw her off. She impulsively grabbed the first thing she could, his hair. It was as hard as plastic and hard to keep a grip on.

“Sorry! Sorryyyyyyyy!” she yelped as she reached for the bracelet.

Her apology was answered by Pinprick grabbing her ankle and yanking her off. Upside-down, she could see Bianca ambling up to the scene, a burger in her hand.

“Howzit goin’?” she asked.

Wisty let out a loud groan of frustration. “I’ve been getting my ass kicked!! SO! I’ve come to the conclusion that I will absolutely die if I go fight anything,” she grumbled as she dangled from Pinprick’s hand. He snickered in response. 

“Hey, don’t feel too bad, this is only a baseline! Imagine how good you’ll be after me ‘n Nate ‘n Dex have taught ya!” Bianca said.

“Hopefully it’ll be a less shameful display than this,” Wisty replied as Pinprick idly swung her from side to side like a pendulum. “I kinda thought I was gonna learn how to fight. I know I shouldn’t be complainin’, it’s very nice of you two to take time out of your day to help me, but is this the best way to go about it when I haven’t ever fought before?”

“Here at BC, we believe in learning on the job!” Bianca replied, licking remnants of ketchup off her fingers. “We are not gonna let you go out there until you feel confident enough you can hold your own, so don’t worry.”

Pinprick gently set Wisty on the ground. “Ready whenever you are, love,” he grinned widely.

__

“I yield.” Wisty’s legs were far past beginning to wobble. Now she could hardly keep herself upright. Pinprick was not only stupidly fast, but stupidly powerful. He absorbed all of her attacks like they were nothing and dished out brutal counters one after the other. Wisty had been reduced to blocking and dodging, Pinprick never letting up for even a moment. She didn’t even have enough time to grab an ink canister. At least she could safely say she was better at avoiding attacks now. Her lungs burned with heavy breaths and her arms ached from swinging her pen around. Goddamn inertia.

Pinprick raised his hands again in preparation, grinning still. “We’re only getting started, love!”

“C-Could we take a break or something? I’m frickin’ exhausted and haven’t landed a solid hit on you once!” 

“Of course we can stop! After you get the bracelet on. That was the agreement sweetheart, don’t back out on me now.”

“Ugh c’moooon. You have no mercyyyyy.” Wisty forced herself to stand up straight.

“What’s happening?”

Bianca turned and gave a nod of greeting to Dex, who had strolled up to the scene and was now watching with interest.

“The newbie is getting broken in,” she said, cringing as Pinprick sent Wisty flying again. “I think she’s doing...okay…”

Dex smirked. “Sure doesn’t look like it, hehe.”

“Hey, go easy on her dude, she just started today! I’ve been watching the whole time, I can tell you she’s gotten a lot better already. Aw geez,” Bianca winced as Pinprick threw a punch that caught Wisty on her right cheek, resulting in her swearing loudly.

“Remember your safe word!” Dex shouted to her.

“My WHAT? PINPRICK YOU CHEATER, YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THAT!!”

The ghoul only cackled in response. “You never asked about it, cupcake!”

“OF COURSE I DIDN’T, I’M NEW HERE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!” Wisty screeched.

As Pinprick rushed her again, she didn’t wait. This time she lurched to meet him, slamming the butt of her pen into the ground and using it to jump up to his height, landing an impressive high-kick on his chin that actually got a grunt of pain out of him. 

“Close!!” Dex shouted. “Keep trying--oof, that looked like it hurt.” 

Pinprick had slugged Wisty full force in the torso, her pen caught in between his fist and her stomach. It seemed to absorb much of the impact, but it wasn’t enough to keep the girl from slamming into the ground hard and skidding several yards away where she collided with some boxes. Dust flew everywhere. 

“I’ll go get the nurse bed ready,” Bianca sighed, turning to head back to Black Cauldron. “Hey Dex, if it looks like Pin is getting a bit too into it, make sure he doesn’t punch Wisty into nonexistence. He’ll feel horrible if he accidentally hurts her really bad.”

Was Pinprick just that strong? Or did she just suck that bad? Wisty coughed on the clouds of dust filling the air and tasted the sharp tang of iron in her mouth. She spat onto the concrete, a gob of red. She could feel more on her tongue and dripping from her mouth. Her pen hadn’t broken, (thank you Harvey), but having it rammed into her gut fucking huuuuuuuuuuuuurt. What if she couldn’t get the bracelet on? What if she never got better at this? Her vision swam and she felt ink dripping from her face again. 

Wisty grit her teeth and bit back a snarl. No. This was her first day. She’d get better, she’d get way better. And she was going to get that fucking bracelet on! She could do this!

“So...hff...that’s how it’s gonna be, huh…? Fine. Fine. You want me to play rough, I’ll do that.”

She reached behind herself to her ink cartridges. One, two, perfect.

“Yo Pinprick! Did you kill ‘em, man?!” Dex called to his comrade.

“Ahoho, I certainly hope not, we were having so much fun!”

Before he could say anything more, though, a thin jet of orange ink fired from the dust cloud. The instant it made contact with the ground, a huge explosion blossomed outward.

“HOLY MOLY!!!” Dex hollered as Pinprick skidded backwards, blinking in surprise.

“Oho, it seems the newbie has a few tricks up her sleeve! Good, good!” he laughed.

The dust was settling, and now he could see Wisty standing with her shoulders hunched and her face twisted with a determined scowl. Black liquid was oozing from both her eyes, making her look quite frightening. A canister full of green liquid was clutched in her hand, Dex and Pinprick watched as she tipped it back and took a swig of the ink inside before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and grabbing another canister. This one she shoved into her pen. 

But she didn’t make a move yet, panting. 

“Oh come now love, you can’t be that tired already! You’re leaving yourself...wide! Open!” Pinprick sprinted forward and thrust his left arm out. Wisty swiftly jumped to the side, his right, and he attempted to grab her again, this time with his right hand. She ducked again, resulting in both Pinprick's hands smashing into the wall, sending pieces of brick flying.

Wisty took aim with her pen, and fired. Black ink streamed from the tip and coated Pinprick’s hands. His first instinct was to tug--

And they didn’t budge. The ink was like tar.

“What in the--” White ink spattered the wall and a blinding light filled his vision. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging illumination. When it faded, he swiveled his head round looking for Wisty-

And caught her out of the corner of his eye sprinting towards him. With a mighty heave, he wretched his right arm free of the ink to deal another devastating blow-

In the blink of an eye, Wisty had taken a mighty leap, vaulting herself upwards using Pinprick’s shoulders. As she shot up into the air, twisting, she aimed the nib of her pen downwards into his face.

“Boom.”

Orange ink streamed. Pinprick was caught in a huge explosion. Dex shielded his face as the heat wave slammed into him. 

“Jeezus God, what the hell did Harvey put in those inks??” he muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared, he could see Pinprick, still standing, his hands free from the black ink, but looking significantly more banged up. 

“Yeowzers,” Dex trotted up next to the ghoul to get a closer look at the damage. “That was pretty awesome. Might cause some property damage, though.”

“But really, when don’t we cause just a little property damage?” Pinprick pointed out, dusting himself off. 

“Wait...where’d Wisty go?” 

“Hmm...did she get blown away from the explosion…?” Pinprick mused. “She was right--”

A stream of bright yellow ink hit his back, and his entire frame spasmed as electricity coursed through him. His body was knocked to the ground as Wisty dropped down from above onto him. Dex barely managed to jump out of the way with a squawk. 

“You--little--” Pinprick hissed through gritted teeth, but the girl had a firm grip as she snapped the bracelet around his neck, fighting against her shaking arms as the shocks spread up them. 

“Friggin...got it...Geezus…” she huffed.

She slid off Pinprick as he straightened himself up, wincing, yet looking very pleased.

“Well well well, color me surprised, cupcake! What a way to show off what some of those colors can do.” 

“Hehe,” Wisty grinned sheepishly, her legs quaking. She tried to take a step forward, but stumbled, opting to lean on her pen for support.

“Tell me, what was that green ink for?”

“Healing. It -huff hff- can heal wounds if applied topically like a- hff- salve. Or you can drink it to- help with something internal.” Her smile looked a little pained. “I guess I’ll be using it a lot, eh?” 

Pinprick suddenly looked rather worried, his smile dropping and his brow creasing. “Oh no...I must’ve hit you a little too hard, huh? I’m sorry about that, sometimes I can forget my own strength.” 

“D-Don’t apologize! It was really hard, sure, but it was necessary right? You said it yourself, ghouls are scary strong! So if I was able to take you down, then I should be okay with practice! Plus, y’know,” she scratched the back of her head. “I did kinda electrocute you. And make you explode. Twice.” 

Pinprick had to nod in agreement with that, his grin returning. “You were quite clever to coax me into getting my hands stuck to the wall. And that light! I couldn’t see a thing.” 

“I know I got here like halfway through, but you were pretty impressive out there, rookie,” Dex piped up. “Pretty fast, too. And usin’ your opponent’s size and physical features to your advantage with those twisty moves? You might give even witches a run for their money with smarts like that. But for now, howsabout we call it a day? You look like you’re gonna collapse. Your cheek ain’t lookin so good either.”

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, throbbing aches began to make themselves known all over Wisty’s body. Her right cheek really, really hurt, and she gingerly pressed her fingers against it, wincing as the swollen flesh protested.

“You two got pretty banged up. How about we head back to BC to getcha patched up?” Dex jerked his thumb back to his bike, which was parked nearby. 

“Do forgive me for goin’ so hard on you cupcake. Needed to make sure you were prepared; out there, it could be even more dangerous.” Pinprick reached out and ruffled Wisty’s hair, wiggling her whole head back and forth.

“Oh c’mon Pin, I’m a hugger! Gimme one!” 

Pinprick chuckled and picked the girl up with one arm, giving her a squeeze.

“You did very well today! See ya back at BC, cupcake. And you too, Dex,” Pinprick wiggled his fingers in farewell.

“Awwwww C’mon Pin, aren’t I a cupcake too?” Dex asked, his puppy-dog voice belied by the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not! Go on now, I’ll see you two back there!” With a mighty leap, Pinprick was off, hopping from roof to roof with ease. Within no time at all he was out of sight. Wisty slumped.

“Urgh, I barely hurt him at all. Look at him doin’ parkour shit while I can barely stand--” Right on cue, her legs buckled. She was saved by Dex, who swooped down and grabbed her under the arms. 

“Tracy will get you all fixed in no time. Pinprick only went so hard on you because he felt you had potential you were holding back. His method of bringing it out is to hit as hard as he can, hehe. You seem promising, rookie. I’ll have to be extra careful when we fight.”

“You use GUNS.”

“In the field! Sparring I use blanks. And my lithe body.”

Wisty burst out laughing as Dex helped her to the bike. “You guys are merciless! I don’t wanna do anything until I’m not hurting everywhere.” 

“Nothin’ a lil magic n’ a hot bath can’t fix. Aight, get on the back,” Dex said, turning the key in the ignition. “DeeDee likes to go fast, so you might wanna hold on.”

“Okay...uh where…” Wisty hesitantly gripped Dex’s shoulders. 

“Here we go!” The bike flared to life and Dex squeezed the handle.

The inertia as they took off was unexpected and Wisty had to momentarily throw her arms around Dex’s middle to keep from tumbling off the back. But soon enough her hands were back to his shoulders as they drove along, buildings and power lines passing by in a blur.

It was exhilarating. 

“Not too fast for ya, newbie?”

“It’s awesome! I love going fast!”

“Heh, hang on then!”

Wisty closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, lost in the feeling of the wind as they drove along. This was giving her an idea for…

She opened her eyes.

Ah. Right.

What she would’ve given to see what this all looked like in color. The blurred buildings. The bright moon. Dex’s scarf as it fluttered and danced behind them. He had told her it was red, but what shade of red? What shade were her inks? What if she forgot the colors she knew? Her mouth twisted as tears again stung her eyes. Not that any would fall, the wind was drying them up. 

“Hey just so ya know, you might wanna actually hang on to my middle or else you’ll fall off!” Dex called over his shoulder.

“What?” Wisty shouted back right before they went over a bump. She yelped and clung to Dex again. He snorted.

“Soooooo, have you thought about partnering up with anyone?” he asked her.

“Uh...no, not really.”

“Would you like to? Newbies usually tend to, though I don’t think Alphus ever did, heh.”

“I dunno. I mean, I...” The truth was, she’d love to partner up with someone. Like Bianca and Pinprick. They’d been the ones to save her, and she’d gotten pretty attached to them both. After she’d been cursed, it felt like everyone she once had in her life had left. Her friends abandoned her, people she’d known for years. Even now, it was a stubborn ache in her chest that wasn’t going away yet. And BC...the Cadets had taken her in immediately, even when she wasn’t yet sure if she wanted to join. They accepted her, curse, quirks, all of it. They’d given her friendship and comfort.

She wanted to partner up with someone. She’d known these people for such a short time, and each of them had undoubtedly gone through their own horrible shit. Some of them more so than others.  Ghouls weren’t seen as people. People without souls were surely damaged and sad to others. People whose eyes reflected no light and oozed black ink were creepy. 

Her grip tightened. If Dex noticed, he didn’t say anything as he rounded a corner hard, tires screeching. 

“Y’know, you should really wear a helmet, especially driving like this!”

“Naaahhhh, I’m too cool for one!”

“No one is too cool for head safety, my dude.”

“This hair is!”

He weaved easily in and through the crowd. Wisty could see people staring as they flew by. What a strange pair they must look, a boy with glowing white eyes and a girl with black voids for hers. If they could even see them. A couple of freaks, huh?

Couple of freaks. 

Those weirdos at Black Cauldron...you’ve been hanging out with them? They’re all freaks!

A smile suddenly found itself creeping across Wisty’s lips.

All freaks? Huh? Well if we can accept each other regardless, then I'll be a freak too.

“...Hehehe.” 

Wisty stood up suddenly, her arms spread wide.

“Whooooooo!!!”

“Wisty SIT DOWN! You’re gonna fall off!”

“My balance is really good!” 

Luckily for her, and Dex’s blood pressure, a street lined by trees with low-hanging branches forced her to remain seated for the rest of the ride. Her little burst of excitement had sapped the last of her energy, and Wisty rested her cheek against Dex’s back. She felt really tired. Happy. Veeeeeery sore. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the city as they whizzed past. 

Tired...

“Alright, we’re here. Hopefully Bianca has that nurse bed ready.” Dex came to a smooth stop in front of the staircase leading up to Black Cauldron. “Let’s get you to Tracy.  ... ...Hello? Kiddo?” 

He now became aware of Wisty’s weight slumped against his back. He twisted his head round to look back at her. She was fast asleep. 

Dex sighed and chuckled to himself. “Damn, you’re really gonna make me carry you up all those stairs? Guess this is what I get for teasing you about the safe word. Hyup-” 

With no small amount of effort, Dex hoisted the sleeping teen onto his back and began the trek up the stairs. Wisty let out a soft snore.

---

Unexpectedly, it's a kind of future like that.

[druddigoon]

so i’m supposed to be working on scholarship applications but instead of writing 500 words on why i should receive money (bc i’m poor) i typed out 1.4k words of bederia smh

anyways cheeky au where bede feels feelings

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

> Nervousness, worry; something heavy building up in the heart, weighed down like a lagging tail; the bearer of bad news. Guilt. 

Bede lifts his arm up the second Gloria makes a move to get up from the couch. 

“Leaving?” he says. 

“Yeah.” It’s little more than an act nowadays, less for his benefit than Gloria’s. “It’s going to take at least a week to travel to and back from the dynamax sightings they want me to investigate, and I’d rather arrive back in time to catch the tail end of that fair you’re helping set up.” 

She’s wading her way around the coffee table when he grabs her hand. 

> Guilt, stronger now. Concern, rolling off in waves; can’t take deep breaths when the water line’s over your head. Resolve, don’t look back. No fear. 

No fear? Fear and concern usually go hand in hand. If she’s worried about running into a dangerous situation, why isn’t she scared about it? 

It takes him a while to realize she’s worried over him. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he blurts out, “This is your job, you’re the only one qualified enough to handle dens over five stars, and you’re doing it so Galar can be safe. I’d be an idiot to get mad at that.” 

“I know, I just wish it doesn’t have to be--” Gloria cuts herself off in the middle of her sentence. 

Doesn’t have to be like this. There were a lot of things that didn't have to be: Bede’s disqualification, the Eternatus incident, Gloria’s stepping down a year into her championship. Wistful ideations did not rewrite the stars. Both knew it very well. 

> Melancholy. Guilt loses its edge, dips down into resignation. 

She’s staring at the cluster of mushrooms starting to grow from the ceiling, glowing gentle hues of pink, blue, and green. For the umpteenth time, Bede wishes he could read thoughts instead of emotions. Doesn’t have to be like this. 

He sighs, lets go of her hand. “Come on. I’ll come to see you off at Hammerlocke.” 

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

Rule Number One: Never talk about your ability. 

Rule Number Two: Avoid touching anyone unless absolutely necessary.

Those were the two fundamental laws Bede set for himself during his time in the orphanage. Stories too grotesque to be put into words, stark terror and raw emotion. They blurred together to the point where he stopped caring--stopped reaching out, beat or intimidated anyone who tried to him. He withdrew. 

Compassion fatigue, he’d heard the social workers discuss, after his main caretaker quit. Emotional exhaustion leading to a decreased ability to feel empathy for others. The cost of care. He often wondered if he had that too, how others’ emotions were often so strong it had washed away his own, the dull ringing in his ears after he lost contact. Or maybe he’d always been like this. 

The first rule was broken when he accused his foster father of cheating, when he gave him a slap on the back after coming home from “work”. A day later he was picked up by Oleana, and told he’d shake hands with Macro Cosmos’s pawns during meetings. 

The second rule spiralled downwards when he accidentally bumped into a challenger, back in Galar Mine No 1. 

It’s such a hassle. So much easier to hate someone when he doesn’t know them. Rose is a man brimming with hope for the future, too bright to hold in a handshake for long. Oleana, once her obsessiveness and exhaustion and contempt for Bede has been whittled away from the manicured fingernails digging into his shoulder, is a woman who adores her saviour ever since the day he took her off the streets. He remembers the pity officers doled against his skin when they had to restrain him to be brought back to the orphanage, the desperation of a slipping boy when Hop’s knuckles bit into his lip. 

So much easier to hate when they weren’t all so human. 

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

In Ballonlea, where the sun fails to filter through the thick canopy of trees, time loses its grip. There is no such thing as a day and night cycle when all light comes from bioluminescent mushrooms, shining here before you were born and after you leave. 

Hammerlocke, in contrast, seems to be bathed in the light of the sun. Dying rays outline castle walls against a wash of red and gold, and shadows stretch over corners, gothic. The air is warm; he’d read somewhere that the obsidian masonry was designed to absorb heat during the day and release it at night, which saves them from temperature fluctuations as a mainland city near the wild area. Save for a few stragglers, the streets are empty. 

Bede is the first to arrive at the pokemon centre, teleported by his hatterene. 

Gloria wouldn’t arrive in a few minutes--she always liked taking the corvitaxi, watching the region pass by beneath her. Bede would accompany her if he didn’t have motion sickness. The last time they rode together had been...messy. 

He’s flipping through a curry catalogue in the lobby when she bursts in, windblown hair and old leather bag and all. 

“Sorry, I had to take a detour to get my stuff. Completely forgot about that, or I’d have brought them to your house.”  Golisopod lumbers in after, bags comically hanging on its upturned scutes. “Hope you didn’t wait long?” 

Bede checks his rotom-phone. Half an hour, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Yes, a whole fucking two minutes. I thought you were fine spending a month in the woods wearing the same clothes, eating berries and roots like a neanderthal.” 

“Oh, I hope Sylveon pukes on your pillow tonight.” The jab didn’t have much force to it, and he doesn’t need to touch her to see her stress; they’ve been around each other long enough for him to notice the incessant tic of her right foot, how she keeps running one hand over another as a soothing gesture, in the absence of his. 

(It’s endearing. He usually looks down at people who fail to disguise their fears, sees them as weak of will, but this is Gloria. She’s the girl who’d faced and captured gods, the girl known to take on the most unstable regions of the wild area and come out alive; she’s also the girl who released them after making sure they wouldn’t cause harm, the girl fretting not because she might be risking her life, but because Bede will miss her. It’s cute.) 

He sees her off at the Hammerlocke gates. Gloria has her back to him, checking maps, while her golisopod is already making its way down the stairs. The gap between them seems to be growing wider, and he wants nothing more than to reach for her shoulder. 

That would be crossing a boundary. They’d talked extensively about his ability, and she’d said yes, it’s okay to touch her, she had nothing to hide from him. But just because he has her consent doesn’t mean he’s privy to her feelings at the moment. 

Gloria closes her map, taking one step down the stairs.

Another step. Stops. 

She looks back. 

Whatever she sees on Bede’s face makes her turn around and run towards him. He doesn’t get a single word in before she throws her arms around him, almost barreling him over. 

> Courage, the strength to keep walking even though each step is a battle; confidence, the rain that washes away all doubt; hope, the fiercest of them all, a steady mantra of We’ll be okay.

He grips her tight, wishes for once he could speak his emotions like she’s speaking hers. Settles for balling all his conviction into a whisper. “You’re going to do phenomenal, you’re going to pummel whatever that dynamax pokemon is without breaking a sweat, and I’ll wake up a week from now with a million messages of how you kicked their ass. Don’t worry about me.” 

He can feel her smile from the shift of her cheek. “And I’m going to come back to Ballonlea’s first town fair sensationalised on the headlines of every media site, and finally get to ride on a ferris wheel that isn’t always ‘out of order’ like Wyndon’s is, because you did a great job bossing people and pokemon around. Don’t worry about me.” 

They let go. 

Gloria heads down the stairs to her golisopod. His skin burns warm as he watches them meet up, as they round the corner, until they are gone. 

[angelicorn]

FFVII Remake Analysis Chapter 1 (1/2)

My sister was introduced to FFVII via my gameplay and reacted to it with fresh eyes which I’ve written down and posted to tumblr up to chapter 5–which I will continue posting some time in the future (I finished the game, but have looked towards another project in place of the reactions) The past couple weeks, she’s been playing the game while we stop every so often to dissect and analyze the mediums used in this game for story telling purpose. We analyze the music, blank/negative spaces, lighting, camera angles and shots, the introduction of characters, using characters to reveal information/reveal to us the lack of info the players know, etc.

Everyone is free to their own opinions. We just wanted to share our thoughts and understanding of the story and its characters through the use of rhetorical appeals found in the game that push towards a common narrative that all players of this game can agree on—what FFVII’s story is about. We are free to our own interpretations and preferences. The plot devices and rhetoric strategies used in this game are there for specific reasons and this is our (me and my sister’s) take on that. We hope you enjoy this lengthy analysis.

Spoilers, for those who have not yet played the game.

When you begin the new game, you’re introduced to dry and barren land. The first sign of life we see is a bird flying across the sky and towards a bleak looking city. The scenery is washed out with hues of gray, black, etc.—the city is filled with people in contrast to the rocky terrain we saw prior, but it still seems dry and barren in a different sense. The flowers aren’t even growing. A reflection of a washed out greenish light reflects in the eyes of a child playing at a park and it’s coming out of something steel and man-made. It doesn’t look welcoming—it looks ominous. The brooding music and the way this pale light doesn’t illuminate everything around it, but rather makes everything else in comparison, darker, tells us so.

The scenes fades to black and we are next shown a mysterious nameless girl who is perched in front of a pipe(?) with the same glow that we saw coming from the reactor in the last scene. She opens her eyes and the camera cuts to a side view of her. We don’t see her expression, but we see the green glow of the pipes flicker almost as if it’s conversing with her. We see a yellow flower and it’s a a call back to the dead flower growing by the curb in the earlier scenes. It makes us question whether the green glow is something that’s alive and not meant to be harvested to an extent that the flowers are dying. She stands up and looks away from the screen into something unknown to the viewers. We’re further intrigued. Maybe she isn’t meant to be near the green glow? We don’t yet know.

She walks out into the street and bumps into someone who doesn’t even apologize or excuse himself. She drops a few of her flowers. A woman glances at her but no one helps this girl. A man even tramples on one of her flowers. We don’t see her face, but she picks it up with two hands—she’s carrying it like it’s something precious to her. Yes—this steel city is empty of greenery similarly to the way most people depicted are empty of compassion towards life (the environment)

She looks towards the sky and we are left with a lot of questions as to what she is to this story we are embarking on. The camera pans out to a large city enclosed within walls and divided into sections like a pizza—a telltale sign of a society being controlled by a higher power/hierarchy. The sound of drums, wind instruments and the brass instruments gradually become louder and louder until a streak of pale green light shoots across from the upper right corner and strikes the middle of the screen like a meteor. The logo appears to the sound of brass instruments and drums overpowering the score and this crescendo marks the beginning of an epic journey: Final Fantasy VII Remake.

The music gradually quiets down and we pan closer and closer into another section of the city with cuts of a moving train and a mysterious man with a large sword on his back perched on top of this train. We can’t help but wonder why he isn’t inside the train like a normal person and we‘re left to wonder if he’s trying to sneak in undetected. The train slows down to a stop in front of 2 grunts whose faces we can’t see. A closer look at the train—it doesn’t look like it’s meant for people to ride in. It looks like a heavy duty train that’s meant to transport things.

The grunts get their asses handed to them by three characters that are introduced. They’re wearing attire that’s a bit similar to each other so we get the feel that they’re acting as a 3-man unit/team. The camera pans to a big guy with shades and a metal cylinder arm. The guy looks intimidating and to be quite honest, sketchy. Is he supposed to be a good guy or a bad guy? We’ll have to play on to find out.

The three headbands wait for this big guy to give the signal and when he gives them the ok with a head nod, they nod in understanding and turn around to get to their destination.

“Get down here, merc.” The first line is spoken by this big guy whose name flashes on the screen as Barret.

We see the same man with the big sword riding atop the train from before as he back flips onto the scene and coolly looks up at the viewers in true protagonist/hero fashion and this is where we know without a doubt, we are definitely going to be playing as this mysterious, fellow. The striking eyes and spiky-hair tells us so (lol).

The story begins in the middle of all this action. We don’t know this guy’s name, why we’re working for Barret or what their objective even is yet, which leaves a unique way of storytelling by piecing information together. We rely on characters around us and our interactions with them to figure out just wtf is going on.

I wanted to note that the music is quick paced while the brass carries a low melody which, together, evokes a sense of urgency and covertness. We get an idea that perhaps we will be infiltrating this place. Also, the chapter of the title clues us in on what we’re doing. We’re destroying a reactor—a source of energy—which we can safely assume is that green stuff shooting out of that structure from the intro and that it is supplying this walled city with power/electricity.

The player has control of this character and, as Barret puts it, “you’re up” and made to engage in a battle with the same type of grunts as before, all in tutorial fashion. We learn that this man’s name is Cloud. We learn from the first few battles that Cloud is a cocky little shit swordsman based on his scripted dialogue between himself and the grunts. (The grunts warn him that they’ll shoot if he moves and he challenges them with the line, Go ahead.) Our first level up isn’t level 1, it’s level 7, and he already has a few abilities and a spell, plus different fighting modes, so we know he’s has some kind of fighting experience already. 

Additionally, the fighting modes are called Operator mode and Punisher mode. These are words that evoke a lack of autonomy. Operator suggests that a person must do something to make a tool or system function properly. Cloud is a tool to make another tool work. Punisher suggests that a person is inflicting damage, pain, death, etc.towards people who have committed grave crimes/sins —someone who takes away someone else’s autonomy.

We learn more about our main man through the other characters. Jessie and Biggs’ conversation reveals his full name, Cloud Strife, and that he was a SOLDIER which is stylized in all caps in the subtitles showing us that it may be more than just a title or occupation in this game. Biggs describes him as a professional in comparison to the rest of them. Professional in what specifically? He was trained to fight, what with all the abilities and fighting styles he has at this point. That leaves us with the question: what is a SOLDIER exactly, and why isn’t he a SOLDIER anymore?

His interaction with Wedge tells a lot about his character and gives us insight as to what the situation is and what his relationship to them is. Wedge gives a thumbs up—no words from Wedge—yet Cloud is moved to say this is a one time “gig” emphasizing his role as a mercenary and he reiterates it by saying when the job is done, their connection between himself and their group will also end. From a storytelling standpoint, this interaction leads us to separate ourselves emotionally from the rest of the group. To Cloud—the player—this is just another day at work.

Jessie and Biggs continue to talk about the player character, but you cannot interact with them at this point. As you approach Barret, he pushes you aside to watch over Jessie and Biggs. We get a stronger impression that Barret is a team leader of some sort—one that doesn’t seem to approve of your presence. Does that have anything to do with being a former SOLDIER?

Cloud isn’t interested in what Wedge thinks. Cloud is aloof and kinda fuckin’ rude. We wonder what made him this way?

Barret warns Cloud that he’d better be worth the money. He doesn’t even call him by his name. He calls Cloud merc, which further puts emotional distance between the two.

The fact that the player is left behind to fight the baddies alone while the rest make their way forward creates a distance between them as well. Cloud is working for them—not with them. A job’s a job.

Cloud takes the elevator alone and enters an area where we see Wedge is left behind while the rest of the group tells you to hurry and to pick up the pace.

As the player, I personally was annoyed that they aren’t more appreciative. I can’t keep up with you guys bc I’m left behind doing all the fighting keeping all of you from harm. However—fighting is what’s expected of the player—that’s what we were hired to do, right? I’m just being salty bc my efforts aren’t being noticed the way I want. Here, I feel inferior.

If you choose to interact with Wedge before going further, he tells you he will secure an escape route, asks you to keep his friends safe, and not to worry about him. Cloud may not give two shits yet, but as the player, I’ve begun to form an emotional attachment to Wedge. This guy is so caring! Cloud’s cold personality does not sway him! HOW can I not like Wedge?

We join up with the others and Barret asks him for directions to get to some bridge above mako storage. He then goes on in an increasingly aggravated manner and asks Cloud if he’s still a “loyal little doggy”. We can draw several conclusions from from this dialogue.

1. Cloud was once affiliated with some kind of power/company/force in opposition to Barret & co.

2. We are made to believe that Cloud left this company some time before for reasons we do not yet know.

2. Cloud was hired to help them infiltrate a building belonging to this opposing entity.

3. Barret’s lack of trust in Cloud correlates to his former affiliation with the opposing entity.

4. Mako is a source that this opposing entity has in possession. This building is huge. They must have quite a lot of it.

We are left with several questions about this character we are playing.

1. What is his objective?

2. What are his morals?

3. Where does his loyalty lie?

We lack this information, but we do know that Barret does not fully trust him because he’s a former enemy. So, can we trust Cloud too? Is he credible? Is he speaking the truth? Should we believe what he says? What if he’s a double agent? We have to play on as this character to find out.

Cloud experiences some kind of headache at the mention of “loyal little doggy” and it feeds us the idea that maybe he’s negatively triggered by it because it reminds him of something traumatic. This may be a clue that explains the reason for his departure from SOLDIER.

Barret calls him a mutt and exclaims “we can do this with you or we can do this without you.”

Cloud recovers from his headache and responds calmly. “Different reactor, different layout, depends when it was built. Never seen one like this, but I’ll manage.”

Barret’s use of “we” and “you” followed by Cloud’s “I” creates more of a separation between them.

Biggs gets the door open, but not for long. Cloud enters first—alone—Barret reaches his hand forward and shouts “wait!” and Cloud is left to fight alone while the others are locked outside of the room. When the fighting is over, Jessie chirps happily as she enters the room and makes a flirtatious comment which Barret tries to quickly shut down (lol).

Jessie gets this new door to open with her knowledge of passcodes through a friend. No one else at command will talk to them, but they must make due.

Now we know that this small team is a part of a bigger force, however, there isn’t a sense of unity as the command won’t socialize with this team specifically. Why though?

Biggs tells Jessie to be careful to which she responds with a smile. Cute moment showing Biggs’ concern and Jessie’s optimism/confidence—traits that may help us to understand their motivations and nature’s little more in the upcoming chapters.

If you talk to Barret, the first thing he tells Cloud is to be ready for the increasing security. “We can’t afford any more mistakes.” And he includes Cloud in this “we” this time around. It’s a subtle way for Barret to say they are a team and they should be working together. It also subtly reveals Barret’s soft and caring side. Classic soft teddy bear in a grizzly bear’s skin. You care, Barret—and the players care about you too, regardless what Cloud says.

Before getting into the elevator, Jessie asks about someone named Tifa and though it isn’t any of her business, she wonders if she and Cloud are close which is italicized to give an important emphasis on their relationship. Here, Jessie separates herself from the relationship between Cloud and Tifa, yet her interest in their relationship plus the flirting and comments on Cloud’s appearance hints that she may be interested in him ins romantic sense.

We hear and see a new name and for new players to the FFVII franchise, it’s common for people to consciously try to connect that name to a character. Tifa...Tifa... who is she? Why is Jessie asking Cloud about her? Wait, was Tifa the one who hired Cloud? Oh, is she the pink girl we saw in the intro?

The flashback sequence is important because it affirms to us that the pink girl from the intro is not Tifa, but an entirely different character. It is also worth noting that before the flashback, Cloud looks away from Jessie and willingly tries to remember Tifa. This flashback juxtaposes the quick flash of memories and migrain he receives when Barret calls him a loyal doggy. Those memories cause him pain when he remembers even bits and parts of it. The memories with Tifa are...well, we don’t quite know what they are to him yet, but there’s a stark contrast between how Cloud reacts towards the two memories.

The flashback reveals a town that doesn’t look like the city streets of the intro. We are experiencing this flashback through Cloud’s eyes. He looks at this tower hears Tifa call his name, and there we see she is surrounded by other boys. His focus jumps back and forth between her back to her surroundings. He turns away and Tifa asks if he is ignoring her. He focuses on her displeased face again and that is the last thing we see before the flashback ends—everything else in the background gets washed out with a pale green hue except for Tifa’s face. A hue of red is the only vibrant color left, and it’s centered on her face—we cut back to Cloud, and I don’t know if this the lighting effect was intended, but the red color on Cloud’s face is emphasized against a washed out background for a brief moment as well before the pale green hues face back into the regular color scheme. We also here what sounds like a heartbeat within the sharp static sounds? And so what are we left to think about this scene?

The music, mostly string instruments are played in a minor key that evoke mystery, nostalgia, and a sense of meekness. Tifa is the only one waving to him while the other boys rarely move an inch.

In the English version, he lifts his right hand with his palm open, a gentle gesture, and says “Tifa and I...” before he’s interrupted with the elevator buzzer.

We’re left with a sense that Tifa is someone from his childhood—a cute girl who is evidently popular among the other kids. The flashback initially leads us to think he wasn’t interested in being her friend as a child or that he was too shy/felt too inferior to all the boys hanging around her to accept her invitation...? The focus on Tifa’s face in his flashback, the redness in his face, followed by the subtle heart beat hints at a crush and that perhaps he may have been jealous/inferior to the other boys around her—thus, his hesitation when trying to explain his relationship with Tifa to Jessie.

An interesting fact that I noticed outside of my sister’s play through and discussions, the Japanese version has Cloud saying “oretachi” to refer to himself and Tifa. I looked into it, and basically—he’s trying to make himself seem more masculine and confident while also revealing that the relationship between he and Tifa is informal—implying that they are close.

It also shows subtle feelings of inferiority. He had to refer to himself like that to establish his masculinity right after a flashback with Tifa being surrounded by other boys. Way to be subtle about his feelings!

The English version, while less obvious, hints at his crush on Tifa in a different sense. The way he says “Tifa and I...” is a little less deep than how he usually speaks. Vocalization, hand gestures, facial expressions, music, and lighting and colorization in this short scene reveal a lot about Cloud’s feelings. His shyness in remembering this flashback reveal something tender in relation to this friend of his.

Just a fun fact that I personally wanted to share. For the sake of this analysis however, I won’t be talking about the Japanese dialogue and will only be referring to the English localization from this point on. Just wanted to share this info as it blatantly points towards Cloud’s characterization so early on in the story.in comparison to the English version.

Also note: the distance between Jessie and Cloud before the flashback and after. Jessie inches closer to Cloud and is the active participant in trying to close the distance between them, while Cloud stands still—a reflection of Cloud’s characterization and his relationship to others at this point. He’s seems to be socially stunted. While everyone else is trying to get closer to him, he’s emotionally and mentally not ready to make that connection.

There is so much to dissect in every chapter, but I’ve reached the image attachment limit and will continue this another time with screenshots attached as I believe it’s important to examine visual mediums while also providing images that are being examined in an analysis. 

So... to be continued in another post... stay tuned.

[proflongbttm]

hello my everything! can I request a neville drabble where the reader is very smart and confident but when it comes to neville she's all shy and quiet bc she likes him a lot! and then neville finds out she likes him somehow and he asks her about it and ends up kissing her? I'm so glad you got back into writing babe, you're doing amazing! keep up the great work! and don't listen to those rude people! they don't deserve you! love you sweetheart! 😘❤

Note: so this isn't my best work, honestly Ivan been tired and not very i inspired but I loved the idea and wish I could have executed it better! Maybe one day I'll rewrite it or something! But thank you so much my sweet! I appreciate it so much!

Today was no different from most, a carbon copy of an old routine. You sat in hogwarts library, your nose buried into a book, this one was about  a subject your took particular interest in “Gashawks guide to herbology”. The library was as silent as ever, the occasional sound of a chair sliding or footsteps of students searching for a book. Druing this thrilling daily event you were usually accompanied by your friend, Katie, but as always she was late. Honestly she would be late to her own funeral. She was never in Snapes good books due to her punctuality,  but no gryffindor was.

Your attention was soon shifted from your book to the person who had now entered the library with a loud bang. The door flew open with a crash noise, and from it stumbled your worst nightmare and favourite dream. Neville Longbottom. Ms pince’s head whipped around the where the racket emerged from, she gave a stern look the the nervous boy.

“Sorry” he mumbled with an apologetic look painted on his face. He Hastily walked over to the table in front of you, with Trevor in his hands, while passing you by your eyes connected. You could feel your pulse increasing at an alarming rate and your face heating up, which you guessed showed as a pink hue across your cheeks. He smiled timidly at you. That bloody smile. It effected   you every time you had the measure to see it it was a smile you wanted to see every day of the week, it made your heart sore and your brain buzz like a static television. Even with his crooked teeth it is still one of the most charming and endearing things your eyes had ever seen. That smile always managed ripped you of any tenacity and intelligence you had. Something nobody had ever been able to do before.  It frustrated you to an unhealthy level. Snape didnt even make you feel as nervous and helpless as Neville did. Who gave this boy the right to do this too you without him even knowing? You've always took an interest in Neville since first year after the sorting ceremony you noticed him, his timid nature, his kindness, his gentility, you adored this boy held. Which is why you always found it so difficult to find confidence or the ability to think coherent thoughts when in his vicinity.  

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts when saw the expression on Neville's face.  You had been staring at the poor boy this whole time.  Your eyes widened and your body locked,  like it was frozen in a heavy block of ice, it explained why you found it more difficult to breathe and why your heart was stuttering in your chest.  A rush of heat swept over your face which was now a color closer to a Phoenix then anything. This was no different to what usually occured, but you were never caught out like this before.  Well at least you thought. You always knew Neville was blissfully unaware to your feelings towards him, or even your existence really. It broke your heart that you could ever find the courage to interact with the boy. Courage was never a trait you lack apart from time like these

His eyebrows furrowed in concern and confusion. Your eyes were locked with his soft, caring brown-

" Y/N? Are you alright?  You look a bit worried."

His head was tilted like a confused puppy dog and his face wasn't dissimilar to one either.  

Neville spent years trying to understand you.  Why you never spoke to him, purposefully avoided him.  You seemed so talkative and bright to everyone else. Why whenever he looked at you,  you seemed to already be looking, but would glance away and your friend would whisper and you would both giggle.  It was difficult to not be aware of your Pressence. You never failed to speak your mind in class and seemed to radiate confidence with every step you toom,  you made people smile and feel important, why not him? His curiosity ate away at him every day. He adored you. How kind you were to others, and it wasn't that you were cruel to him in particular, but you were distant.  Seamus never failed to point out when you were staring at neville, or how you'd without fail call out Draco Malfoy on any misdeeds he did to Neville. But it was pointless, Neville's mindset was made up. He had done something for you to dislike him,  and it seemed that is how it would stay, no matter how much it hurt him

A simple nod and "mhm" was all you could muster up before you eyes darted to your book and your brain had already called you and idiot about seven or so times.  You could feel his confused stare linger onto you while you pretended to read, until both of your eyes shot to the girl who had just entered with a loud, but proud bang. A wave of relief washed over you at the sight of your friend, maybe she could save you from this embarrassment.  Once her eyes caught sight of you she smiled a warm and cheerful smile, you returned the same, though yous a bit more reluctant, your brain still repeating the moment of seconds ago.

She began to approach,  but before she sat down beside you her eyes caught Nevilles,  and her smile looked more chaotic then ever.

Katie had known you liked Neville since day one.  And had constantly encouraged you to talk to him or even interact with him.  She constantly teased you for your lovesick looks to him saying "What's the worst that could happen?" To which you had what could have been a five page list with all that could go horribly wrong,  many of which ended in you dying from embarrassment.

"Hi Neville,  long time no see,  if you want you can sit over with us, I don't bite,  I don't think y/n does either. " Her tone had a hint of evil behind the kind gesture. Your eyes locked with hers,  yours were wide with panic while hers narrowed while a cunning smile crept onto her face. How is she not a slytherin?!

"Eh- s-sure, thanks"

Her and Neville chairs screeched in sync while she sat down beside you and Neville in front of you. Your eyes glared at the words below you, while you heart pounded against your chest.

Neville smiled shyly while trvour stayed in his hands,  your eyes didn't leave, you knew you'd make a fool out of yourself if you said or did anything,  hopefully if you just read you could stay calm.

Neville's face lit up once he saw what book you were reading.  "Is that gawshaks guide to herbology? I never knew you were a fan y/n."

His voice was so happy to finally find something to talk to you abou,  like he'd been waiting to ask you the short question since that day he was born.

Your eyes looked up while you head stayed tilted to the book. Your mouth opened to reply but nothing came out, an awkward silence drifted into the room while both Neville and Katie stared,  waiting for your reply. You had to get out of here

Your legs sprung up and your chair made a loud scratch while it pushed back.  

"I need to use the bathroom"

As if it were lightning you darted out of the room,  your legs taking you as far as they could as quickly as possible.  

Neville sat,  wide eyed, staring at where you sat on lying seconds ago,  his smile had faded and his excited eyes looked beaten and sad as they sank to the ground

"I don't know what I did, every time I try to talk to her she leaves or doesnt reply or just stares at me,  did I do something? "

His question was asked so quietly it was surprising that katie even heard it at all.  

She knew very well that you two would make a good couple.  You both had a keen interest in herbology, both were very caring and kind.  It would fit like a lovely jigsaw. But if things kept up they way they were there was no chance of you two.  She had to intervene.

"No, no Neville you didn't do anything. Well you kind of did,  but you didn't. Okay so I'm going to tell you something, but if you say I told you, you will be lucky to leave this room alive."

His eyes widened with fear, he shuffled in his seat nervously.  

"I-i promise,  I really promise. "

It was clear that his words were sincere,  even if they were laced with fear from kayies death threats.  Katie leaned onto the table, to get closer to Neville, she couldn't let anyone else hear this or she'd be dead meat.  

"Y/n likes you,  a lot. Your like the only thing that makes her nervous, she doesn't know what to do around you,  so she eject buttons herself out."

Neville didn't reply to katie,  he just sat, in utter disbelief.  His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding.  You liked him back. You really liked him back, good godric you liked him! He wanted to whack his head of the table from being such an idiot.  Every interaction you both had replayed in his head until minutes later you re-entered the room.

You had calmed yourself down in the bathrooms and mashed your face to snap back into reality. The reaction you got to your entrance was not one you expected at all.  Neville looked like the boy was going to explode with nerves. Before you had a chance to step further into the room, Neville stood up and started to approach you. Yours eyes locked the whole time.  What is happening,  what did I do? Why is he still walking?  Your head was raving and your heart felt like it was going to grow legs and run out of your ribs.  It wasn't until he was inches away when he came to a holt.

Your faces were mere inches apart,  he was a lot taller when he was this close.  His eyes sparkled from the light through the windows.  You didn't know what to do. Run? Scream? Cry? Okay maybe not the last two.  His hand raised to hold yours, his hands touched yours as if you were about to break at any second.

"Y/n..  I like you,  I like you a lot.  I like your eye, and your hair,  and everything about you. I just really like you,  and I really want to do something." He took a deep breath " Can I kiss you?"

You simply nodded,  the last action before his head tilted into yours and your lips met.  His were chapped and tasted like lip balm. Your heart felt like it was going to burst,  your legs barely held you up. His hand cam e and rested on the sides of your face while your on his shoulders.  This moment was worth every fall, every embarrassment, he was worth every moment.

[artzypaw]

Rip Tide (bnha Surf AU)

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/ Kirishima Eijirou

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290699/chapters/48101773 

Word count: 5,029

Additional Tags: 

Bakusquad, Surfing, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Competition, Beaches, Scars, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Road Trips, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Insecure Kirishima Eijirou, ashido could be with anyone, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Blood, Drinking, Emotional Constipation, Barbie References, Gay Kirishima Eijirou, Gay Bakugou Katsuki, Inside jokes, Hotel Rooms, surf competition, i'll add more tags when events become more relevant, denki is a dork, sero has no filter, kirishima is the literal embodiment of the sun, Bakugou wears glasses, but dont tell anyone, ashido paints all their nails, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)

Summary:

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls.

'or'

Bakusquad enters a local surf competition and feelings get messy along the way.

Chapts: 1/?

Notes: I'm so excited to be working on this!! I've already drawn photos showing off their surf swimwear and you can find them over on my Tumblr and Insta (but more so on my insta bc i have an exclusive highlighted story to share more deets before chapters come out ;-D)

There are fancy surfing tricks in this story so if you guys want a deeper look into what's to come, click here to read into them. I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this'll end up being, but i'll have more of an idea once i've posted more :-)

(see end of post for tags! if you want me to tag you in the next chapters let me know!)

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Chapter 1: In which Bakugou signs a deal with the devil (or the squad)

The summers are always too hot. Hot and humid, hot and sticky, hot and there’s no escape once you leave the AC. If it weren’t for the constant breezes emanating off of the beach’s shoreline, everyone in the city would be walking fries. The concrete burns beneath any shoe worn and skin bakes once under the scorching heat. On days like this, Katsuki finds going to the water helps but rarely gets to it simply because so did everyone else. 

The tide is more forgiving in the morning and afternoon for him when it comes to surfing. Not only is he able to avoid the crowds of tourists, he can also get a decent swim in before having to go to the Marina for work.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

From what’s Katsuki’s learned, he is constantly on the water. More so than him, and that’s quite a bit considering he goes out whenever available between work and hanging out with his dumbass friends. Kirishima makes sure to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch some slow waves, then leaves once the crowds start to scuffling around the afternoon. Later at night, just when the sunset begins to ripple across the water and the waves start to die down, not entirely, he’ll grab his surfboard and swim until it grows too dark. The waves then are still tall and stocked with power, crashing down onto the shore with loud gushes of wind. Katsuki finds he enjoys surfing at this time of day more so than in the morning. Not because the sunset looks beautiful against the warm hue of his friends skin, not because the red is just as vibrantly blinding as a certain mop of hair, not because of that time of day, the piercing red eyes that smile back at him are the embodiment of the sunset behind them. No, it’s because he’s available. He’s available to ditch life responsibilities and float across the tinted waters with ease and relax the aching muscles on his body. 

 His phone buzzes after walking out of work, arms growing weary from lifting and maneuvering loads of extraneous equipment. He prods at the tough skin on his bicep, feeling the small indents from the scar left there. The Marina isn’t a crazy job, but it gives him enough money to afford a small apartment and food. And, it was located directly in between his house and the sea. Sore arms aren’t too bad if he really squints at the pros of his situation.

Kirishima: I'm heading out now if you want to meet up- the squad’s w me

Of course everyone else would be there. It wasn’t too often that they were able to come together, as of late. Ever since graduating high school, it’s been a struggle of living against the struggle of hanging out and keeping relationships alive. It’s easier for Katsuki to be with Kirishima and Ashido than it is Sero and Denki simply because the two live and work closer.

Katsuki makes way to his old, run down Jeep that he’s used for the past ten years and drives home to pick up his surfboard. They all surfed, it was a known. Him, Kirishima, and Ashido have been since childhood, Sero and Kaminari starting roughly in their teens, but they like to act as if they hadn’t.

He strips out of his clothes and into black swim trunks, grabbing his keys, wallet and surfboard before locking up his front door and hauling the board into the bed. It’s a normal white on the top, but below was a messy splay of oranges, yellows and blacks; reminiscent of explosions upon the bottom of his board. He personally painted it himself back in high school when there wasn’t enough money to professionally have it coated, but the paint and sealant have held well over the years and he’s grown fond of the design. He doesn’t take shit from Kaminari about how “tacky yet sweet” it is that he still has his cringy old design on the board.

Today is just as hot as yesterday, and the day before that, but the increasing breeze drifting onto his glistening skin walking to the beach has him closing his eyes. The sand is warm to the touch, and as his toes sink into the beads they grow cold from the shade. This feeling is one of the few reasons he keeps living in this tourist trap; that and one other. 

His board is propped beneath his arm as he walks to their usual meeting spot. It’s only five, so the sun has a few hours before setting. Many tourists are still perched on the shore, tanning, splashing in the water, etc. It’s disgusting how many of them show up this time of year; leaving their disgusting ass trash all over his beach, having their disgusting ass families crowd his favorite local restaurants. Sure it was warm all year round, but summer was his favorite season and Katsuki didn’t make exceptions for noisy visitors.

“Hey! It’s Bakubro!” The nickname causes his ears to twitch. He spots the four standing amongst one another, boards perched into the sand around them. Kaminari raises his hand after calling out, and the others turn their gaze toward him. 

Katsuki digs the bottom of his board into the soft sand once he’s joined them, and is immediately tackled into a hug by Ashido, pink enveloping his sight. To this date, he has yet to see the girl give up that hair color.

“Get the fuck off me.” He grunts, no malice in his words as he pats her back with a free hand.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks, suck it up.” She laughs, squeezing his shoulders before hopping off and giving space. She was wearing the same wetsuit she always did; white with grey accents, holding pink and purple patterns along the sides of her frame. The suit cuts off mid thigh, but the sleeves make their way down her arms and her thin wrists. It’s a wonder how Ashido’s been able to fit into the swimwear the past years. “Tapping out, your turn Sero.” She chides and Katsuki watches as the tall lanky man steps forward and cautiously taps his fist along his bicep.

“I’ll pass on the hug, I kinda wanna survive for championships.” Sero chuckles but is cut short by the panicked looks Kirishima and Ashido give him. He’s quickly slapped in the head by Kaminari. 

“Dude! What the hell we haven’t even told him yet why couldn’t you just keep shut!” He whines, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. Katsuki frowns, confused. What championships?

“What the fuck are you guys squirming about?” He aks, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Kirishima walks between their friends and wraps an arm over Katsuki’s shoulder in a warm gesture he’s grown fond of over the years. The guy has no personal space, no matter how hard he’s complained.

“So remember last summer when our city threw a surfing competition in order to raise money towards ocean conservation? Many other local beaches in the district came up to compete as well,” Kirishima begins , tilting his head to glance at him through wet hair framing his face. Katsuki mentally rolls his eyes. The dork couldn’t even manage to wait a few minutes to get in the water. He can feel excess drops of roll off Kirishima’s arm and onto his nape. He suppresses the urge to shiver from the contact.

“Yeah, and it was a nightmare. There was practically no room to do anything.” He interjects.

“Well, Kami found a poster advertising this upcoming competition and thought maybe we should sign up!” Kirishima’s smile is bright, and Katsuki rips himself out from under the arm to register what was just told to him.

“Wait- you want to join the competition? As in go against other surfers for a chance to win what may be some lame ass medal and cash?”

Ashido chips in this time, balling her hands into fists enthusiastically, “Yes! And it’s all individual scoring, so no one can get in your way of victory.”

“There are district teams though? As in people will be identified from the beach they’re coming from. We’d be the Yuuei Beach.” Sero adds. 

Katsuki blinks. This sounded right up his alley in terms of the activity and competition. Of course he wants to pummel any low ranking surfer out of the water, but-

“What’s the entry fee?” His bank account couldn’t handle another divot. Just this past month alone, his AC has died twice and that pulled entirely too much money out of for his comfort. He has saved money, sure, but it’s for emergencies, not being baked alive.

Ashido works at a retail store, not gaining that much more than him, along with Sero. Kirishima is currently at a surf shop, selling and making boards for probably less than it’s worth. Kaminari’s in and out of jobs practically every month, and while he says he had quit or it wasn’t for him, the guy was only half telling the truth. Katsuki has to keep his friends in check because their dumbasses sometimes forget they’re not made of money.

Kaminari flicks his nose with a thumb, “It’s not too bad, considering it is doubling as a charity event.” Katsuki huffs. So it was expensive.

“About 100 bucks each.” Kirishima says, looking over at him with bright eyes; hopeful and eager to see his reaction. Because yeah, it was a decent price. Cheaper than he was expecting.

He furrows his brows and kicks the sand beneath him in thought. It was maybe too cheap. “That’s how much is it for each of us individually to get in? I feel like there’s supposed to be a twist. Are there equipment fees?”

Ashido laughs, “I was the same, but that’s all we have to pay. It would be more if we didn’t already own surfboards, and swim gear-“

Sero nods when Katsuki flicks his gaze to him. His own wetsuit accentuates his long arms and legs and thinly toned body. He was the skinniest of the group, but to Katsuki’s surprise, that didn’t stop him from being a crazy strong surfer. Sero continues, “Yeah. So what do you say? Wanna try it out?”

He did. More so than he’d openly admit. Katsuki holds back his smile in order to keep composure; the last thing he wants is to jump into something stupid. He’ll have to call work and schedule time off. He’ll have to pack his clothes and his board and go on road trips with his friends and it was both exciting and nerve wracking.

Katsuki sighs, dropping an arm and raising the other to his temple, “If you guys make me regret this I’m shipping your asses to China.”

Their eyes widen and simultaneously loud cheers erupt from their cries. Kirishima runs up and hugs him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting his feet off the sand. His cheeks burn from the action and from the full laughs vibrating through Kirishima’s chest. If he could get him to laugh like this everyday he would.

“Hell yeah!” The red head drops Katsuki and fist bumps Kaminari who just got out of a group hug with the other two. All of them are buzzing and Katsuki can’t help but let a smirk form upon his lips.

The sun is growing heavy on the horizon, which means they should probably hop in the water if they want any good waves. He reaches over and pulls his surfboard out of the sand.

“Let’s go you losers.” He barks, smirk never leaving his lips as he marches over to the water. Behind him Kaminari laughs. Foot steps quicken behind him with soft thuds.

“Last one there has to pay for dinner!” He cries, voice shifting into a shriek after sprinting past Katsuki and his grin widens with competition. The fuck does he think he is getting a head start?

Confused and disturbed glances behind them, the four boys push and shove awkwardly with their surfboards in hand to the water, making sure not to trip on one another. Sero lost.

The swells are more tame due to the tidal shift, keeping his distance from the break of waves, Katsuki’s able to lay back on his board and let the water run past his outstretched arms and legs. Kirishima gets the same idea once they’ve drifted further out into the open water and Katsuki can see a small smile still resting on his face.

The others are catching waves up ahead, and from the sounds of it they were running off the high of excitement; Ashido squeals after, Sero he assumes, pulls a bottom turn.

“Thanks for agreeing, Katsuki.” He hears Kirishima say. He hums in response, watching as the sky changes from hues of blue to pinks and oranges. He focuses on that rather than the man beside him, because he knows exactly what will happen if he does; his heart and mind will betray him, and he’ll have to question whether or not going to the competition will be worth his numerous strokes. “How far do you think we’ll get?” the redhead says again, the volume of his question softer, as if he were asking himself.

“We’re going to fucking dominate those amatures, Ei.” Katsuki chuckles airily. If anyone is as good a surfer as him, it was that dork.

“Yeah, we are.” and fuck, he has a weak heart because he tilts his head over to look at Kirishima. He’s giving him the widest smile and Katsuki sucks in air. How can it be legal to smile that way? At him? It does too many things to his emotions that he doesn’t allow. The swells beneath gradually lift them, and they fall down just as gently, as if the water itself were taking a deep breath.

A scream breaks his train of thought and he sits up to see where the noise came from. Ahead, Kaminair is popping his head out of the water with a lopsided grin.

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls. Kirishima laughs at that, and doesn’t stop until the other three have swam up to swap positions. Kaminari looks at him pointedly.

“Let me see you do a flip off a board then, Bakumaster.” 

“Don’t call me that,” He starts, lowering his arms to push forward and catch the next swell, “the day one of us does a flip off a board, it’ll be your shit eating grin that’ll pay because I'll personally handle that myself.”

“Honestly, Kami,” Kirishima says behind him, he too, preparing his board, “how cool would that be? It’s like parkour, but on water.”

“Exactly!” his friends cackle, and Katsuki smirks to himself. They’re all idiots.

   “Wow, there are a lot more people here from our beach than I thought there’d be.” Kirishima says beside him. The two of them are waiting for the rest of their group at the opening resort for the surf competition. It’s been a month since they all consecutively decided to join, and throughout those weeks have been vigorously practicing the required techniques in order to pass the ranks. Standing there today is surreal to Katsuki; his heart beating a thousand miles a minute as the adrenaline of competition surges through his body. Before them, dozens of tents are littered across the sand advertising foods, surf leagues, selling wetsuits and swimsuits, anything that may grab money from eager buyers. In the middle of the mess is a small makeshift stage that holds a live band. Katsuki can hear their loud pop summer music from where he’s standing and wonders how distracting it may be once he’s out in the water. Sprawling in the crowds of surfers and pedestrians are news reporters catching scoops of information before the oncoming competition begins. 

“More than last year.” He says. It’s the peak of the day, the early noon sun is hot and persistent on his skin. He disregarded his tank top hours ago because it rendered useless being soaked in his sweat. Beside him, Kirishima fairs no better, not even coming with a shirt and just in his red striped swim shorts. His hair is loose today, and Katsuki can’t help but want to drag his fingers through it and out of his face.

While the two showed up early, all tents provided for competitors are slammed full, causing them to have to stand out in the bated sun. Their surfboards stand beside them, growing increasingly warm after each passing minute. 

“I really thought they’d be here by now.” Kirishima says anxiously. His body is stiff, and Katsuki gets the idea he’s nervous for more reasons than one. Elbowing his arm, he speaks up over the blaring music and conversations.

“Relax, Ei, if they’re late we’ll just start without them.” It’s not much of a reassurance, but the redhead's already taking in a deep breath. 

“Sorry we’re late! Kaminari slept in and Sero forgot where his wetsuit was and I had to get gas-!” Ashido cries as her and the other two dorks run up to them. 

“Really, Kami? You slept in?” Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. Katsuki fumes. The idiot had the audacity to sleep in and risk being late to their first opening competitions as well as stress out Kirishima more than he needed to. 

“Don’t fucking do it again, Pikachu.” He barks. 

 There were 28 surfers entering the water today. Only 8 from Yuuei beach are going to able to advance in the official competitions. The news wasn’t surprising to Katsuki. He spent the past couple of nights reading into the scoring and background of these kind of events. Their next match, only 4 from each beach will be able to advance. All they had to do was meet a certain amount of points during their surf. Pass the heats, move to the next round.

Ashido is first to head into the water out of their group. She’s nervous and threatening to throw up but Kaminari shakes her shoulders and tells her that “you’re going to wipe the smug look off of everyone’s faces when they see you surf. Don’t overthink it, you’re practically a fish!” It musters a giggle out of her, and she hops up with determination.

“Yeah I am!” She grabs her surfboard, the bottom displaying various shades of pink along with tacky patterns only she would care to enjoy, and runs out to the water waving a thumbs up behind her.

Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. The past couple of surfers have been good. Their scores ranging from 15 to 17.2 points out of 20. Ashido is accompanied with three other surfers for their heat, and he hopes she catches some good waves in order to boost her general score. Her first wave is smaller than he would’ve hoped, but she’s quick and able to pull in a few carves and cutbacks before doing a roundhouse cutback; her figure eight sharp and stunning. Watching, The allotted thirty minutes given goes by fast, and Katsuki sighs with relief when Ashido sprints out of the water with a solid 18.3. 

“Did you see that??!” She squeals, ramming into their group dripping with ocean water. She ditches her surfboard to the sand before jumping into their open arms. Her cheeks are red from the sun and splays of water, and Katsuki finds he likes this new profound form of excitement. It makes his chest flutter with something unknown. She backs away, though her hand never leaves the small of Sero’s back. “Don’t say a word, I don’t want to jinx anything. I’m looking at you, Hanta.” 

He flushes at the accusation, “I’m not that bad.”

“Sorry man, but you have the worst tendency of blurting what’s on your mind.” Kirishima says, rubbing the back of his nape modestly. They all nod in agreement and he flushed more.

“Okay then. I’ll keep shut.” 

The speakers erupt across the beach announcing the next four names to enter the water. Kirishima and Kaminari are in the same heat this round, which leaves Katsuki to watch from the sand once again. He finds himself biting his nails unconsciously until Ashido slaps his hand with her own, a frown upon her lips.

“Don’t ruin your nails, I don't want to paint a ravaged canvas.” she whines, and he huffs, but eventually caves in and drops his hand. Her gaze softens and she elbows his bicep. He flicks his gaze down irritably. “They’re going to be okay. Kaminari is full of surprises, and you know Kirishima,” she emphasizes the last bit, “he’s amazing. You’re stressing over nothing.”

“I’m not stressing.” Katsuki grumbles. But she was right, he didn’t necessarily have anything to worry about; the two were amazing surfers. He’ll ignore the knowing look Ashido held in her gaze when talking about Kirishima just then because that’s for another time. Ahead, he can spot the mop of red hair contrast with the blues and whites as the figure positions himself for a larger wave swell. Luckily, Kirishima held a top priority and once he claims a wave the other surfers will have to venture off to other ones. 

“That’s a good wave, Kiri should be able to pull some of his trickier stunts on it.” Sero quips, crossing his arms over his chest. Katsuki nods, eyes never wavering from in front of him. The redhead is standing in no seconds after giving himself a boost forward with a thrust of his arms. The water curves, and eventually a beautiful wave begins to crash upon the water just for him. Immediately, Kirishima is wasting no time and pulling his first trick: Nosesirfing. Holding his stance at the tip of his board, he surfs along the crest of the wave for a couple seconds, gaining him a substantial amount of initial points. He slides down the water swiftly and carves, reverses and performs a 360; water splashing around his figure. Ashido cheers beside Katsuki and he smirks, because it was performed fairly perfectly. The wave is coming to a close, and Kirishima lowers his speed to Tube Ride inside the arch of water. It takes skill, not being an intermedial trick, and Katsuki holds his breath waiting to see the splash of red along the water emerge out into the open. After a few seconds, to his and the two dorks beside him’s excitement, Kirishima is able to perform the stunt and glides out past the crashing water, smiling widely. His first wave gives him a 9.8 out of 10 on the scoring board. If he does that again, Katsuki’s sure he’ll pass and move onto the next rounds. 

The other surfers in the heat take their turns catching their points, Kaminari scoring an 8.2 on his first wave and the other two strangers score relatively lower. Their time on the water is winding down, and as Kirishima finishes is second wave with yet another Tube Ride, followed hastily with an Aerial, his points reveal him with a victorious 10 accumulating his complete and final 18.2. His fists are in the air, expression bright as he splashes the water exasperatingly.

“Yes! Way to go Kirshima!” Katsuki can hear Denki shout across the water as he begins his own second wave. Even on his own turn, the blonde finds time to support his friend. He turns his gaze back to Kirishima and smirks when he emerges out of the water, still wearing his widening smile.

Ashido runs forward and hugs him, causing them to wobble from the lack of balance. Thankfully, she lets go just in time for Kirishima to compose himself. His cheeks and body are flush from the adrenaline, and he rubs the back of his nape.

“Thanks! But we gotta watch Kami! He’s on now!” He calls, turning around to watch their friend finish his heat with a 17.9. Not too long after, the electric blonde is running up and joining them in a group hug. 

“You guys were fucking amazing.” Katuski chuckles, clapping his hands together with Kirishima’s after they’ve divided. His face is warm from the sun, from the heat, from the surge of excitement and from the soft, damp hands holding his own tightly. Kirishima’s smile hasn’t wavered since he’s left the water, and Katsuki wonders if his cheeks are sore.

“Thanks man!” he laughs, and from the looks of it, the redhead’s still running off of his incitement.

“I think they just called Sero’s name.” Kaminari says to the side, and they turn their gaze to the large screen towards the center of the beach that holds the scorings and names of surf heats. Sure enough, Hanta Sero appears in bold letters across the screen. 

He gives them a thumbs up as he walks off holding his surfboard by his side. Katsuki knows from watching him practice that he’s been working on the Superman since his longer body physique allows him to maneuver the trick easier, but will he attempt it today and risk losing points? It requires a relatively larger waves to guide the speed and height up and off of the crest. To his surprise, Sero doesn’t end up performing the trick, instead focusing on more longboard derived skills that place him with a score of 17.6. 

That leaves him to enter the water. His name isn’t on the screen yet, but he can feel the sizzling beneath his skin in anticipation. The next heat will begin soon, and the chance his name will show up etched itself into his gut in the form of hunger. Hunger to win, hunger to go out there and compete, hunger to excel above the rest.

“Your name was just called for the next heat, Bakugou.” Ashido says and he smirks wickedly. Finally.

“Oh no, he’s got that creepy look on his face when he gets over competitive. He’s gone from Bakubro to Bakuscary.” Kaminari steps behind his board to shield himself as Katsuki grabs his own firmly. Reassuring chants echo behind him as he surges forward. 

The water is warm when he initially steps in; he paddles further out into the ocean and it shifts cooler to the touch. His ears twitch with the realization that the music from the beach isn’t as deafening from where he sits. He can hear his thoughts more clearly, which normally fairs well but he spots Kirishima back at their spot on be beach jumping, pumping his fists into the air out to him, and his chest flutters. He was too enthusiastic sometimes.

The waves today are good. Better for the completion but even better for him in executing more high level skills. A particular swell catches his eye and he’s immediately taking action, dipping his arms in the water to push himself out to snatch the break. As the form manifests, he Carves and glides up, clutching the surfboard with one as he leans back and does a Alley-Oop. He lands with a slap, and his legs buzz from the impact. Any noise he heard earlier is gone. Mind blank, his breathing is shallow and he hyper focuses on his next trick, doing a Cutback then Snapping against the current. He only has a couple of seconds before the wave dies out, so he bites his lip and thinks screw it; there’s an opportunity and he isn’t going to miss his chance. Engulfed under a bridge of water, he Tube Rides before dashing out and Kickflipping his board. His chest heaves as he exhales sharply, riding out the remaining push of wave. It happened all too quickly and he doesn’t spare a glance at the scoreboard to see what his first wave gave him. He knows it was a higher number.

The second wave, to his luck, is just as powerful. Katsuki spares no time performing the same tricks, give or take a few and his mind is still in a haze once he steps onto the hot sand. 

The wind is knocked out of his lungs, his board flying forward and he plummets back down into the sand with a loud thud. He groans as his chest is squeezed unbelievably tight, and his hands urgently grasp onto warm skin. Opening his eyes, his face heats immensely as he stares up into Kirishima’s. His breathing is rugged, unlike Katsuki’s being held in his chest, and he’s smiling down at him. Bold at first, but it fades into one more fond. Eyes never leave one another’s until it’s cut short, as fast as it came, with three bodies throwing themselves atop of theirs and Katsuki groans once again.

“Jesus- the fuck- I can’t breathe you assholes! G-get off-“ He wheezes, retracting his arms and planting them over Kirishima’s bare chest in an attempt to lift everyone. It fails and he’s left buried under 300 pounds with burning cheeks.

“We did it you guys! We’re going into the next rounds!” Ashido squeals into his ear and he pauses. They made it.

He gapes, “Holy fuck.”

“You topped with a solid 19 points, Bakubro!” Kaminari laughs, making an effort to detach himself from the pile. Ashido slides out beneath him. “We’re going to Shigaraki Beach!” 

Sero extends a hand to help Kirishima off his feet, who then looks back down to a stunned Katsuki laying in the sand. He opens and closes his mouth, failing to conjure any words because holy fuck they’re all advancing to the next set of rounds-

He takes Kirishima’s hand and smirks, turning to face his fervent friends. The sun is still hot beating down on his skin, on the sand beneath his toes, on the hand intertwining into his own, on the smiles and crinked noses displaying between them. But it didn’t matter.

They made it.

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

Tags! 

@mina-ashido-ismywife @hubajoob @christa-mina @kitkat-the-muffin @complete-utter-trash23 @justshipmeoffplease @sedxkid1 @downtherabbitholethatisanime @cooliopumpkin @fuchsiari

[franeridart]

what program/brushes do you use for your art? it's so damn pretty

Easy Paint tool SAI and the default pen/brush/marker tools, mostly! and thank you!!! ;^;

Anon said:When I was a kid I would've had a crush on Akane

HECK that’s such a compliment!! Thank you!!!

Anon said:Couldn't Akane technically Control/move Kiri's hair since it's dyed? I mean it's like his hair is stained meaning it's not alive! so Akane finally warms up to him and messes with him or plays with his hair?

She can and she did! I drew her doing just that both in the first and in the fourth thing I posted about her! :D

Anon said:okay i don't know if this is coming through but i have just looked through your entire blog(can only go 4 years back) and let me just say you are wonderful, I absoluty LOVE how you paint/draw like its sooo pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi i cant describe it, (part 1) || like you are wonderful, I absolutely LOVE how you paint/draw like it's so pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi I can't describe it like it's absolutely Fabulous, Stunning, Amazing, Lovely and it looks so smoooooth like what????how??But anyways love your art and love you keep being Amazing! (part 2)

AH GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! This is such a sweet ask to get TT^TT (and you can only go 4 years back because the blog is 4 years old! Can’t believe you actually went through it all!!)

Anon said:I really love your art style and your comics are so cute and I love how you draw older Bakugou and Kirishima!! It’s all so wonderful! Thank you for sharing it with everyone!

Oh man thank you!! ;;; I’m so happy yo know you like them!!!!!! TTOTT

Anon said:the level of FLUFF and KOOKIENESS and SOFT and MARSHMALLOW and MY HEART CAN'T TOOK THIS IS is so much I could die.

PLEASE DON’T DIE I LOVE YOU !!!!! 

Anon said:I love everything about Akane's au. Her, her interactions with Bakugou, how she dislikes Kirishima but is beginning to warm up to him, the boys' aged-up designs. Everything. It's all amazing. Thank you for bringing it into my life!

Nggghhhhhhhh no anon thank you for liking her!!!!

Anon said:Currently procrastinating on my essay to go through your blog because it de-stresses me and I love your art so much like seriously h e l p

GAH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! /////

Anon said:There's something I'm not understand in your AU children kiribaku. She adopted by bakugo or she is a kid bakugou have with someone. ( I'm really really sorry for my English )

Adopted!

Anon said:Your comics are so cute and funny! I'm loving the story with Akane, the last update was great! I really like the way you draw the characters, like your style is so nice. Thanks for making my day better with your art!

G o d thank you So Much!!!!!!

Anon said:Akane is adorable, and I absolutely love the comics that you upload of her, but also on top of that your mohawk Bakugo has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and brought me back from the dead at LEAST twice.

I’M REAL GLAD TO HEAR THAT because mohawk Bakugou owns my whole soul and it’s nice to know I’m not alone in that hahaha

Anon said:What are some ways Akane messes with Kiri (or used to) when he wears red clothes? Does she often do that? Does she do it when Baku's not home, or when he is so that she can hammer in just how much she dislikes Kiri? Has she ever done anything major that caused her to be really reprimanded by Baku, but being the best person in the world Kiri did not get angry?

She really only ever gets pissy (or used to! they’re starting to get along better !!!) at Kiri when she feels jealous for whatever reason, and that doesn’t happen as often as it seems through my doodles, so it’s not like she’s always antagonistic towards him! Mostly she just ignores him, so no, it doesn’t happen often at all! And she’s never gone further than messing his hair up or tugging a bit at his clothes, since she doesn’t have the strength to move Kiri all that much haha the only reason she managed to have him fall the first time was because he was balancing already, but generally Kiri weighs way too much for her to move him around or pull at the red stuff he’s wearing enough for him to notice it all that much 

anyway, Baku never reprimended her for it - not more than he did in the first comic I posted with them, at least, specifically because the damage she can make is so minor that Kiri and Baku barely consider it something to tell her off for... if she were ever to act that way towards someone she might actually hurt (say, a kid her own age) then Baku might reprimend her more seriously, but as long as she’s just tugging at Kiri’s clothes they don’t see it as anything worth fighting her over :D

Anon said:Just sent an ask, so forgive me for this one, but I'd love to get this straight: in the Akane AU Kiri and Baku graduated and share an apartment, are madly into each other, but they neither has made a move on the other yet? Perhaps that should be sad, but it's 100% adorable.

I know I shouldn’t say this as I made the au myself, but I find the arrangement pretty dang adorable too haha they act like a married couple anyway, so it’s like... pining while the rest of the world already considers them an item? and the pining is mostly about stuff like ahhhh I wanna tell him I love him or ahhhhhh god I wanna kiss him, but then they’ll fall asleep on the couch together or hold hands just for the hell of it or cook for each other or make plans that always involve each other and all in all act as each other’s partner, so it’s mostly just like *Kaminari voice* “God these oblivious idiots” hahaha

Anon said:That latest Akane comic melted my heart like you often do. Though for a moment, I expected Eijirou to say "I don't want Katsuki to be my dad, I want him to be my daddy" XD Though that would not sound like him. Props for his adorable interactions with Scarlet Death Queen Witch.

Anon you don’t get it that’s exactly why I had him say “be his son” instead of “be my dad” LMAO it was like, a conscious wording decision hahaha thank you so much for liking my girl, btw!!!

Anon said:Fran! I was just wondering if you would be willing to post your Demon Kiri and Angel Baku art on Redbubble? I'd love to buy a print of it!! Totally understand if not. Also your newer Akane comics are killing me, they're so damn cute!! So yeah love you and your beautiful art! Hope you have an awesome year!!

I CAN TRY I think I did try last time I updated my rb? But the format of the pic made it hard to use it for a lot of things so I gave up??? I can try again tho!!! Thank you for being interested in buying it!!! And thank you for liking Akane too!!!!!

Anon said:is katsuki and kirishima not together in the adopted child comics or is there gonna be a plot to them getting together? 👀

I’m not really writing anything cohesive for it so I wouldn’t call it a plot point, but yeh they still aren’t together! And I wanna have them get to the point in which they are together!!! :D

Anon said:I'm gonna die why do you do this with your adorable art my god

PLEASE!!!!! DON’T DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Your Akane + KiriBaku comics are adorable and I love the relationships that exist between them. I can't wait to see more of them!

Thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!! I hope I won’t disappoint!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I love your art so much!! Especially the little Akane au (so freaking cute!!!!). Random question: if you’ve ever seen Lucifer, who do you think would fit his character? Have an awesome day!

I haven’t seen it, sorry :((( but thank you for liking my girl!!!!!!

Anon said:I apologize if this has already been thought of but i feel as though when akane gets older and if she decides to be a hero, part of her costume could include useful red objects mayhaps?? Such as a shield or daggers or handcuffs so if there’s a lack of red around her she isn’t in a complete ditch. But i love your work sm ahhh💕💕

Yes!!! That’s the plan!!!!! I don’t think I’ll ever draw a teen version of her character but I MIGHT mention this idea in the current timeline, I like the idea so much TT^TT

Anon said:Hey there, I am absolutely obsessed with Akane like I love her so much wow but anyways I was wondering if you've ever drawn tododeku/ will in the future?

Thank you!!!! And I have drawn them in the past (under my tododeku tag!) and I might draw them again in the future, though currently I’m in a pretty big izu//ocha mood so I dunno when that will happen!

Anon said:I love your art so much like??? Help???

THANK YOU TTATT

Anon said:Y'know it could be gayer c'mon

This ask has been in my inbox for 17 days and I still don’t know what it means ??? but I laughed a lot when I got it so thank you anon and yes, definitely, everything could always be gayer that’s just how the world goes

Anon said:I swear you drew an older version of the krbk kids and it wasn't a fever dream I'm currently frantically searching through your blog rn help

I DID that post is CURSED anon, you can look it up through any of the tags I used to tag it and it won’t show up it won’t and I don’t know why!! I always lose it exactly because of this reason I have zero idea why it does this but??? okay I guess???????????

anyway if you still want it it’s here

Anon said:If Akane can control red things, does she low-key also have control over things that are pink and orange depending on how reddish in hue they are? I love her btw. Such a smol bean who could probably kick my ass!

What a good question you got there!! She has control over everything that has a color that falls in the red wavelength of the visible spectrum - that does include certain tones of pink and certain tones of orange, but there’s a point where orange gets too yellow or pink gets too white that her powers stop working. As long as the red in the color is more than any other hue, though, her powers work! 

Anon said: im just imagining if baku takes akane with him when he is going to work and is there with kiri and akane help kiri with his hair bc she is suffering when he tries to style it himself

Once they start getting along better Akane and Kiri actually start helping each other with their hair! They’re both very particular about it so they understand each other as far as that topic goes haha

Anon said:Hi I just wanted to say I’m really enjoying what you are doing in your latest drawing. The contrast with the thick sketchy lines and the thinner crisp ones and the spaces that have no defined line! It’s cool to see you experiment with your line work while staying true to your natural style! Sorry if this came off weird but I love seeing talented artists try pushing the boundaries of their style it’s really visually/conceptually interesting! :)

AH MAN thank you so much I’m so happy to know you like that tool TT^TT it’s really super comfy to use, so it’s nice to know someone finds it visually appealing too!!! thank you!!!!!

Anon said:Is there any chance you could make a masterpost of the aus you do? It's a lot to scroll down to the beginning of a concept u have sometimes and it can be unclear when they start

They all have a tag they’re under, tho? If I’ve made more than one post about them! I have so many AUs going around that making a masterpost with all of them is a bit... mostly so since I don’t know for how many I’ll actually go back on! But if the tags don’t really work for you (generally the link is gonna look like https://franeridart.tumblr.com/tagged/[here goes the tag]/chrono to have it in chronological order) then I can try? I can’t promise I’ll find a comfortable way to do this, tho orz sorry!

Anon said:This might be an odd ask but does Akane like Jirou? I feel like they would get along really well. And how about her grandma Mitsuki? Since she takes after Katsu who takes after her, they could make an adorably angry trio

She hasn’t spent much time with Jirou yet so right now she’s mostly meh about her (though right now she only actually likes Bakugou, and she’s warming up to Kiri, but that’s about it). She doesn’t mind Mitsuki, but she hasn’t spent too long with her either! She yells a bit too much at her dad tho, which Akane isn’t particularly fond of (protective bean that she is, she doesn’t get that that’s just their way of communicating just yet), so out of her grandparents she prefers Masaru, after all~

[thcyer]

the interrogation: they’re always watching...

“is this a real two-way mirror?”

—

the inside of the small interrogation room is just as one would expect. a clean metal table that’s cool to the touch, a few equally bitter metal chairs, and the famous two way mirror that only leaves you staring at yourself; it’s just about the most interesting thing in the room. the walls are bland and dull in hue. it’s meant to intimidate not comfort. the truth is expected to be coaxed from those within the four walls. with his less than ideal rambunctious natured childhood, it’s safe to say this isn’t samuel’s first rodeo. he’s found himself in rooms like this more often than he’d care to admit at young age for petty things, civil disobedience and the like. so what makes his stomach feel so uneasy this time around?

he took his designated place on the opposite end of the table, hands folding in on each other carefully. he has nothing to worry about. ultimately his summons for this interrogation has nothing to do with him and he’s aware of that. and yet his knee keeps a slightly nervous bounce as he begins to fiddle with his fingers. any normal person would be a little nervous in police custody,  sam tries to remind himself. this is about daisey’s death. the murderer now assumed to be nathaniel ballantyne. only it takes but a few nudges before someone’s yelling jenga! and the entire thing collapses. a killer’s blackmail. the thirty. his secret. 

Part One ( You. )

Do you have any criminal history? Anything big or small that you want to make us aware of?

a gentle smile finds its way to pink lips as his nervous ticks dissipate. he’s been conditioned for moments like these with lessons taught by parental figures and the like. he also knew those minor incidents in question were cleared. at the very least buried deep enough so that no one else should find them. after all a diplomat’s son is not meant to be problematic. “no.” he answers calmly. there are no records and there’s certainly nothing he’d want to make them aware of. certainly not if it meant those back home could gain a whiff. they’d be all over him in a heartbeat and he may never see ashmont again. “no I do not.” this time it’s spoken with clarity as his slender frame leans into the table so he can be picked up by the microphone.

How have you spent the few weeks back at college? What have they been like?

all of the events dating back to the beginning of the school year came flooding back to him. oz’s party. the threatening message sent by daisey’s blog. a message that he hadn’t taken seriously enough to begin with. he refused to believe that the contents of said message were true. however it was not merely the discovered fact that daisey is dead, but more importantly that someone knew his secret. at the time it felt impossible. arrogance claimed him for a few weeks and one by one the dominoes began to topple over. those within the thirty were exposed and they were scared, distraught, shamed. he could see it in their faces. in the eyes of their loved ones. in their actions. it was real and only getting worse. the killer was quite literally painting the town red. 

his arms retract from the table, lifting hands first, palms to each other, before they settle onto his lap. slender shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug. “the past few weeks have been stressful” he admits with a slow drawl. “it was very nice to see everyone again at first...and then daisey went missing...and” there it is, the fork in the road. it’s a moment he could just take. like that. how would they know? what else would he have to lose? “..then she was found.” but he already decided his path. long before this summons. it’s still a thought though, one that lingers at the back of his mind. what did he have to lose...

“it seemed like everything was returning to normal..at least..as normal as it could be and the art gallery happened...” an event that he’s still extremely upset about. “and now you know... we are placed on this curfew.” it’s unintentional but a hint of spite laced it’s way into his voice upon mention of the curfew. “so yes..” pick your battles sam. “it has been stressful.”

Part Two ( Daisey. )

How did you know Miss. Rutherford? What was the nature of your relationship? 

these are routine questions. he’s well aware but in some instances it felt like a waste of time. “the rutherfords are my host family for the exchange program.” and how lucky he is right? that this occurred by random chance and everything is going smoothly. wrong. he couldn’t have taken a bumpier road. it’s not their fault though, no one asked for this. “that is how I got to know daisey.” the woman of the hour that seemed to last forever. sam was fond of daisey so he didn’t always mind being at her beck and call. some instances proved to more hellish or inconvenient than others but growing closer to her was satisfying. she pulled him in like a shiny piece of gold. “daisey and I were friends.” sure he could call it that. it never got the chance to flourish into something else so they remained in the realm of friends. “I got to know her over the past year because I was living with her family.”  

Do you remember where you were the night Daisey went missing? If so, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?

the infamous friday the thirteenth. once feared due to killers like of jason or freddy and monsters among the things going bump in the night. daisey was murdered that night. the irony of it all almost makes his mouth twitch in amusement, how twisted is that? he begins to wonder if it was a planned attack but his expression remains stoic. there’s no reason for falsely incriminating himself because his thoughts ran wild. “yes. I was at the party oz threw after the homecoming game.” the artist reclines in his seat, taking a moment to realign that night. the details don’t take very long to reach the forefront his mind but he allows the pause. “I do not remember exactly what time I arrived, I had already been drinking before I got there with a few other people. I remember dancing and just generally talking to people.” dark brown curls bounce slightly when he shakes his head. “ah, I went outside for a little and spoke with zar.” his roommate now. accused of man-slaughter by daisey’s killer. more irony. “I went inside again a while after that...I helped someone prank honey.”

 it’s then that he allows a smile to break on his features. “it was pretty good. we put mayonnaise in this mixture of water, vodka and tequila.” what was not half as amusing was when his partner in the ordeal got punched in the face. at least..it wasn’t amusing for them. “I think it was probably close to two am when I left I...ran into a friend. well.. we are not really friends anymore” and who’s fault was that? sam’s the one truly pushing sutton away. “but I did not want to be there anymore after that.” the final detail that comes to mind forces his jaw to clench. looking back at it now it’s another regretful decision. “I hooked up with angel that night too...” now he hates to admit it, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. angelic flores, the recently revealed mother who had no problem abandoning her poor child. it’s not an action he can ever see himself standing behind. “I think I got home around three or three thirty? I can not remember.”

Did you notice anything strange about Daisey’s behavior the night she went missing? Did you notice anything suspicious about anyone else you ran into that night?

“it was not particularly strange...” he admits, because in truth it wasn’t. daisey drank at these things. she got high sometimes. it wasn’t new but perhaps it felt different. he can recall the hazy smile that splayed across her visage. the lazy uncoordinated movements that stood out from the crowd. daisey had a way of doing that. standing out in a crowd, even when heavily intoxicated. “she was under the influence of something. I do not know what, I hadn’t been with her much that night. I think it was probably close to one am? I know it was past midnight because it was after I came back inside. I had gotten a call at around twelve thirty that I missed I tried calling back, but they did not answer and I saw her maybe....ten or....fifteen minutes after? she was in the main area, I was on my towards the stairs, I heard her saying something but it wasn’t clear at all. I thought I would see her again at home but...” another shrug finishes his sentence as that was truly the last he saw of daisey rutherford alive. 

Where were you the night Daisey’s body was recovered?

where he always was. practically every friday night, the tourist found himself at the bar with one of his good friends. “I was at the bar with vi. we usually go there every friday. I think that night I had finally gotten a part of one of the card tricks she was showing me. It was exciting because I usually mess something up. it is a very hard trick. she is very good at it, but I got the first part down...and we haven’t really revisited the trick since..”

How familiar are you with the Ashmont woods? Have you been there often? Have you recently ventured out here? If so, why?

this question snags his attention, thick brows pull together as he leans forward curiously. he hadn’t heard anything about the woods yet. what sort of drop of information is this? a red herring or is it a matter of importance “I have probably only been there once when I around when I first arrived. once or twice.” that’s all he could honestly remember of them. the woods weren’t particularly a place of interest for him. “I have not been there recently no..” why sits at the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked but the police weren’t there to answer questions. 

Part Four ( Weekly Events. ) (* switched bc he felt like bein a lil shit at the end)

Did you attend the illegal bonfire? Do you know who organized this event?

“no.” his answer is simple and straight forward. he did not attend the bonfire out of caution for the repercussion should anyone have gotten caught. he did not expect this outcome but he’s glad he hadn’t gone regardless. his head begins to shake in response to the second question but then he’s reminded of a conversation in passing. “I do not think I know exactly who organized it. I remember speaking to danny, he mentioned it, but I do not know if he helped organize anything.” 

Did you notice any suspicious activity if you attended the event?

“I did not..because I stayed at home” in apartment six all night. “bath bomb, the cat” he clarifies, his favorite of the apartment’s animals “stared at the wall for a little before chasing her tail and falling over. I do not know if that counts as suspicious activity. she falls over or jumps from high places a lot.”

Do you know Nathaniel Ballantyne? If so, what do you know of him?

nathaniel ballantyne. the ashmont police department’s person of interest. sam can’t say he knows the man well enough to make an accurate judge of his character but the opinion heavy information he does hold doesn’t sit well for nate. “not really.. I have met him a few times..” here’s his second fork in the road. he could sink nate and potentially assist his blackmailer or hope to god that nathaniel and the ominous killer are one in the same and they actually catch him. weighing out the options they both seem one in the same and the win-lose ratio has already been tossed. “I have never gotten particularly friendly vibe from him. he has always kept to himself.” in the dark of the lamar library. “actually,”  sam straightens as that visual re-enters his mind from that night. it was brief but it was odd. “I remember something else from the party. I was walking around upstairs and I walked into the library and he was sitting in front of the window by himself in the dark by a game of chess. it was very strange. I couldn’t tell if he was waiting for someone or...something. I did not stay for long. I...had a weird feeling.” he admits partial truths. samuel thayer was not afraid of the strange, seemingly gentle, giant. he can only hope he picked the right road. 

Do you know anything about his connection to Daisey Rutherford?

“I know that they obviously knew each other. daisey... was engaged to his brother..uh..I remember they had this thing...like..a sort of rivalry about school or something. I know daisey complained to me about something like that once..” oh the earful of complaints that girl had. some spoken directly. some overheard. the rutherford manor was large but they resided in close enough quarters.  “I do not know...I can’t say that I know him well enough to point fingers, but...” his inhale of breath offers a pause before he continues. “I think that reasoning holds the same both ways. I can’t say that I know for sure that he would not do anything.”

Part Three ( the Investigation. )  (* switched bc he felt like bein a lil shit at the end)

Do you have any people you feel the police should look into? Please, let us know who and why.

“just nathaniel I guess...why else would he run?” his lower lip catches between his teeth. admitting it now felt wrong but there’s no turning back. it’s his simplest line of thought and his only way to help. “I do not know...” a stressed sigh over takes him as both hands reach up to smooth over his face. they remain on his cheeks for a moment. his decision has been locked in.

Do you have feelings towards the investigation? Any comments?

“I do have a few comments” and there he goes. still clasped together his hands return to the table top and his gaze locks with detective grant. “I do not understand this curfew or the buddy system. if anything it is only scaring everyone even more. you can not just treat us all like we are children. do you know it’s the children with over protective parents that act out the most?” now he is speaking from personal experience? “I think this is only going to cause more chaos. please consider getting rid of it or making it later..”

thank you for your cooperation.  

after what felt like an eon, the interrogation was finally over. he could breathe once more. it wasn’t until he had risen to exit the room that he realized how stuffy it felt. the tension that had risen in the air. it’s just as he’s leaving that he makes his final remark. “is this a real two-way mirror?” 

[peterporkerpeter]

Code Red P.VII [Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader]

SUMMARY: When the Avengers are given the mission to acquire a deadly weapon in the possession of a suspicious professor, Y/N must attend a gala in order to charm the professor’s quite dangerous son. Her date to the gala? None other than her crush: Peter Parker himself. That’s bound to make for an interesting evening

CONTAINS: mention of sexual harrassment (for like only a hot sec), blood, swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, peter parker crying oof

WC: 4.000 

A/N: i’m so proud of this chapter, it is my favorite one yet and i really hope that you guys like this one. i was listening to some good tunes when i was writing and it got me really in the zone lol. this chapter is extra long bc i was feeling like a generous bitch so i hope yall like it. im literally screaming. hope you have a great day/night! :) Also, some people have mentioned that the tag list isn’t working for them! I’m so sorry about that, and if i’m being honest i have no idea how to fix it lol

| ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | EIGHT |

Y/N SLAMMED HER DOOR shut, violently throwing her heels onto the mattress. There were several things she needed to do, the first being to find a new, fresh pair of clothes to change into. Breathing heavily, Y/N shimmied out of her red dress, now stained with dark crimson splotches. She ferreted through her closet, ignoring the bursts of pain from her worn wrists.

She settled on a comfortable cream sweater and a pair of gray sweat pants, feeling better already. She rolled up the sleeves and headed for the bathroom, where she dunked her head down towards the sink, flipping on the faucet. It took a century and a half to get majority of the makeup off her face without irritating her fresh wounds too badly, the water turning a mixture of red, black, and brown.

Y/N patted her face dry, relieved that her skin could finally breathe. The cuts still stung like a bitch, but she couldn't care less. She was home in her room, clothed in something comfortable and no longer in imminent danger for the rest of the night. It was a breath of fresh air to her, not just her skin.

She tried not to think about the way she had treated her team earlier. She knew she was acting mean and impulsive, but the words kept spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. She just couldn't bare standing in that living room after brushing close with death a handful of times. And her head—God, her head. It would not stop pounding, like someone was driving an ice pick straight into her skull.

The mere thought of Axel's face caused a tremor to spike in her heart. She glanced in the mirror, eyeing the injuries he'd given her as some sick present. The coldness in his eyes still left her afraid. She felt like an idiot, too. She knew something was off, but she still insisted with continuing with the mission regardless of her countering intuition. In some twisted way, she felt like part of it was her own fault. Maybe that's why she acted out—because she was ashamed.

She felt a chill run down her spine, Axel's ghosting touch still grazing along her leg, his hot breath nipping at her ear. It felt like he was on top of her, smothering he beneath him until she couldn't breath. She felt like she was drowning. She didn't want to think of what else a sadistic asshole like him was capable of. She just hoped her team would deal with him.

Warm tears poured down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands, wishing she could just stop thinking for a minute.

Y/N swallowed, shaking her head. She sniffled, then started to tend to her wounds.

THE TEAM ARRIVED HOME fourty-five later, completely drained and exhausted from the demanding evening. It didn't take long for Fury to send in a clean up crew and detain Axel. His father still remained in the wind, but there was no knowing if he was going to be charged for anything or not—at least not by S.H.I.E.L.D. considering the weapon was nowhere to be found. Peter had managed to create a pretty accurate cover story for the gem, not wanting Y/N to get punished for dealing with it on her own accord. He trusted that she knew what she was doing, and he would ask her about it later, just not when she was so vulnerable and upset.

Everyone was concerned for Y/N. She hadn't sent a message or any word at all regarding whether or not she was doing all right. Then again, they didn't really expect to hear from her. They knew she was in a quite sensitive state of mind, and they understood. They've all been where she is at some point in their lives. Pain was inevitable. Only time could tell when Y/N would finally realize that.

"Can we not come in tomorrow?" Clint grumbled rhetorically.

"Is Y/N asleep?" Wanda asked. "Someone needs to make sure she's patched up after the beating she took. And we need to make sure those wrists aren't infected."

"I got it," Peter muttered.

"The other guy looked worse," Natasha grinned sheepishly. "That broken coffee table in there? She slammed him down on top of it with her hands tied. She is a badass, and she'll get through this."

"She shouldn't have to," Tony murmured. His guilty conscience continued to give him a difficult time throughout the night. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight—not with where his thoughts were. Not with the image of her wrists rubbed raw and bleeding engraved in his mind like a tattoo.

Tony turned towards Peter, whose eyes were beginning to droop. The poor kid looked utterly broken down, but he pushed through. All he wanted to do was see Y/N. The older man clasped a hand on his trainee's shoulder. "You did good today, kiddo. Honestly, the teens saved the whole day with this one. You both kicked some major ass. Props to you."

Peter shrugged, fingers tightening around the bag of Chick-Fil-A absentmindedly dangling from his grip. "Doesn't matter. Thanks, but . . . it doesn't matter. I-I don't know why she was so upset with you guys, if anything when I got there she just seemed sad—"

"And that's a normal response to a traumatizing situation," Natasha shook her head. "It's expected to lash out, especially out of shame or embarrassment. And she's still just a kid, Peter. She didn't have her powers, just what she knew from what we taught her. She was scared."

"She will come around tomorrow," Steve added. "Let her rest. Let her eat. It's best to leave her be. Someone will go in and check out her—"

"I can," Peter interjected. "She'll talk to me."

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the living room of the main floor. The kitchen was untouched, the cold granite countertops wiped clean the precise way they were before the team dispatched. Darkness embodied the room, silence enveloping the homey premises. Peter noticed the familiar outline of a girl standing outside on the balcony, her elbows resting upon the cement wall, eyes looking out amongst the humming city illuminated below.

"There she is," Wanda smiled fondly.

Peter's eyes softened, sparkling faintly in the darkness. A familiar warmth ignited within his chest, his lips parting slightly, curving up to form the faintest smile. It was soft like stardust. He was awestricken and intrigued and nervous. He noticed she was wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants, and she looked just as beautiful as she did earlier in her long, silk gown.

Y/N was nonchalantly manipulating a glowing line of orange tinted energy, watching cathartically as the color twisted to follow the smooth, fluid movements of her fingertips. She seemed at ease for the first time this evening since her and Peter shared their dance; he would give anything just to have her that close to him again.

He could still vaguely feel her lips pressed against his. He remembered the warmth that had curled around him like a cozy blanket afterward. The brokenness in her eyes when he last saw her hurt him more than he anticipated it would. He never wanted to see her like that again—bleeding, crying, fighting for her life. Never. He would do anything to protect her, even if that meant his own demise in the process.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, exhausted eyes falling upon the crowd of people pouring in from the elevator. Her team looked entirely worn out from the intense mission, their bodies hunched and feet dragging wherever they wandered. Clint caught her gaze, the smallest of smiles creeping onto his face. He raised his hand into the air, offering the girl a wave. Y/N waved back with pursed lips and glittering eyes, then turned back around to face the open.

It was always a miraculous sight—the city. In the morning it was buzzing with light and intensity. Sunlight bored down on the cracked streets, cars lulling through frustrating traffic, people honking at their neighbors. The hues were of red and gray variety, shades of beige and powder blue adorning the graffitied walls and painted freight trains. Time was consistent during the day. It was never ending. It went on forever, and so did the people living within it. They got up at the same time every morning and hustled to work, took their lunch break at the bodega or crammed in their office, then went home and repeated the same damn routine all over again the very next day.

And then there was the nighttime, when blackness ascended over the city, and the tangerine sun slipped beneath the horizon. At night the city came alive. It was unpredictable and adventurous. You never knew what the city would do when the lights went out in the sky. Overbearing neon shades illuminated the large, glowing signs of theaters and cinemas, hotels and twenty-four hour diners. The streets were clearer, still littered with cars full of tired adults, hoping to get home to their beds for a few hours of sleep before they had to awake early the following morning.

Y/N could see herself in the city at nighttime, waltzing into unprecedented territories with nothing but a high adrenaline and a desire to see beyond vibrancy of its core.

But it was the transition from day to night that really got her—the part of the day when the stars were hardly out and the sun still managed to remain a glowing orb of glistening orange light in the sky. The stars were distant, like they were gently dusted across a canvas of baby blue, powdered on by a paintbrush like a Monet. There was so much going on in this hour, but the transition made so much sense to her. The more she watched and scrutinized the switch, the more she understood how much night and day were alike. As quickly as time moved during this period, it slowed. Time stopped here. Right on the skyline, the moment always stretching out to form a thousand more.

"Hey," Peter's voice broke her from the impenetrable wall of thoughts towering in her head. "I uh, I brought you food."

Y/N turned to face her friend, ignited eyes falling onto the bag of Chick-Fil-A dangling by his leg. A soft chuckle emitted from her scratchy throat.

"Thanks," the girl whispered. She grabbed the bag from his hands and set it on the nearby table. "How's the team?"

"Worried about you," Peter replied honestly. "And I am too."

"I'm just trying to not think about it at the moment. I've been trying to clear my mind," Y/N sighed. "I kicked that guy's ass, didn't I? Stupid Axel fucking Klein. Lucky you came when you did. I would've managed to kill him someway."

Peter shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have."

She cocked her head, furrowing her brows. "Yeah, you're right, I wouldn't have. But I wish I could. I wish I could kill him." A pause followed. The tension between them was thick—thicker than it ever had been before. She could taste it on her tongue. "So, what? The team send you out here because they know I'm a softy for you?"

Peter shrugged. "I-I volunteered. Tony bought the food, but I . . . I wanted to see you. I needed to."

Y/N stared into his eyes for a moment. They were soft and gentle, glistening like fragments of crystals. He somehow reminded her of the soft strum of an acoustic guitar. She found herself reaching forward for him, wanting to touch him during a circumstance that wasn't as vile and as graphic as the last. She wanted to touch him when she wasn't just about to immerse herself into a dangerous mission. She wanted to touch him when they were alone together with the unpredictable, haphazard rosy aura of the city during night.

"Peter," she whispered. She loved his name so much. She loved saying it. She loved hearing it. She loved hearing Peter.

Her hand caressed his jaw, the pad of her thumb gently grazing across the irritated cut on his cheekbone like the leaf of a swaying plant. She heard him release a shallow breath, his eyes flickering between the fragile placement of her hand and the bandages looped tightly around her damaged wrists.

"I thought I was going to die tonight," Y/N drew her hand away, feeling colder. Peter felt the same way. Peter always felt the same way. "I thought I was going to die in the hands of that . . . psychopath. You should've see the look on his face when he caught me in the car with his hands all over me. He looked so smug, so—"

"His hands were what?" Peter interrupted, anger flaring in his stomach. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, red pooling in his eyes. He hated the guy. He hated him with every fiber in his body, and he wished he'd done a lot more to him than punch him a mere few times. No, he should've throttled him. He should've made him suffer longer, just the same way he did to Y/N. He should've—

"Peter," Y/N could sense his rage. She reached out to touch his hand, hoping to soothe the whirlwind of impulsive thoughts plaguing his mind. "He didn't do anything else. Not anything like you're thinking. He just had to get close so he could sedate me."

"I'm sorry. I-I wish I could've done more, Y/N, I—"

Peter's heart was racing. It was driving him insane, he had to tell her that he loved her. He couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't keep holding off for the right time—there was never a right time in the world to tell someone that you loved them, at least not in his world. In his world, death followed like a shadow with every risky move you made. In his world, witches were real and there was a living, breathing one standing right in front of him. There was never a right time for anything when he was Spider-Man, and there was never a right time for anything when he was Peter Parker because time always seemed to fade more quickly than it came.

Was now a right time to tell her? On the balcony of a tower overlooking the prospering, stagnant city below, right after her run in with death at the hands of some lunatic? He didn't want to take advantage of her, and he didn't want to scare her away. He would have to wait another day. He'd have to wait for the sun come up, then go back down again. Another day, another time, until finally it was the right time. Until finally he no longer had to wait.

"Peter, what are you thinking?" Y/N questioned.

"I-I—" the words were fading from his tongue. It was never the right time. "I don't . . . know."

Y/N tilted her head, perplexed by Peter's odd behavior. It wasn't like the boy didn't normally act odd, but now he was acting strange. He wasn't looking at her like a crippled, wounded animal or a damsel in distress desperate for a strong rescuer. He was just looking. His eyes were glazing over, but she didn't know with what. Was he sad? Angry? Frustrated with her? Tears leaked from his melancholy brown irises, slipping down his flushed cheeks. They glimmered like scattered fragments of moonlights.

"Peter, what's wrong?" she asked, her tone urgent and thick with worry. Her hands quickly moved to grab his arms, grounding him, letting him know she was there with him—as she would always be.

She waited patiently for him to respond, his sniffles filling the air. Peter didn't know why he was crying; he felt like complete idiot for doing so, but he just couldn't stop himself. The tears kept falling, streaming down his skin until they dropped from the bottom of his chin onto the ground. All he had to do was just feel her touching him, and suddenly he was an emotional kid. He wasn't Spider-Man or an Avenger. He was just Peter Parker. And Peter Parker had lost so much that the mere thought of losing someone else so important to him—he couldn't bare it. Not on top of the countless years of repressed pain and emotional baggage still anchored deep within his roots. Then to come too close to losing Y/N tonight . . . It was all too much to handle.

"Hey, Pete. You're okay. We're okay," Y/N's voice was soft like silk. Her hands ran soothingly up and down the length of his arms, almost as if she was warming him up after a long snowy day. "Talk to me, Pete."

"I-I just—I almost lost you tonight," he professed, and the words began to tumble out at the same rate as his tears. "And when I saw you in there, I just couldn't stop thinking . . . about what I would do if you . . . I just couldn't stop thinking. And-and thinking and thinking. And then I knew right then and there that I would never let myself lose you ever because I need you, Y/N. I need you more than anything."

Y/N's face melted, her eyes shimmering at his trembling words. They fell so seamlessly from his lips. Her stomach churned, empathy burning bright within her core. She felt the same way. She felt the same way about Peter Parker as he did her, and she felt the same way yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. She always felt the same way. She always would.

"I need you too, Peter," Y/N assured him strongly.

She grabbed his face, pulling him down so she could press her lips firmly against his damp cheeks. She peppered them along his skin, electrifying him with every touch, anchoring him further and further towards the ground, onto the winding road leading towards the glamorous city buoyant with tranquil life. She held him tight, and she would never let him go. Not now, not ever.

"No, Y/N! You don't get it!" he sobbed, pulling away. "You don't understand why I need you!"

"Then just tell me! Peter, tell me. Why do you need me?" Y/N cried.

"I-I'm in love with you," he proclaimed, standing in a pool of his tears. "I'm in love with you, and I almost couldn't save you."

Y/N was rendered utterly and profoundly speechless by Peter Parker.

The nighttime is unpredictable.

"W-what happens when I can't save you anymore?" he whispered, like if he spoke those words they would magically come true. Almost like a spell.

Her forehead wrinkled, desperation contorted onto her features. She didn't really care about what the city would feel like during the nighttime anymore, not when the transition of day to night was still fresh in her bones. Not when Peter Parker was telling her he was in love with her. He wasn't infatuated. He was in love. And that felt like time wrapped up in a perfect little bow.

Y/N placed her palm against his chest, feeling the rapid pace of his beating heart. She ran her hand up the back of his neck, Peter's eyes shining with her every liquid-like movement. He let his lids drop, wet lashes gluing together. She closed her eyes, gently pushing his neck down for his lips to meet hers. Time stops here. Her lips ghosted over his, her breaths quick and hot. Falling in love with Peter felt so painless, but suddenly she felt like she was on fire. Everything felt too real, too raw. Love seemed to operate quite frequently in the gray area of life.

"But you did. You can't think about the 'what-if's, Peter. There's always going to be 'what-if's." She whispered against his mouth.

Y/N closed the gap between their lips, the kiss soft and slow, her breath hitching dead in her throat. She couldn't grasp a hold on any of her thoughts as Peter gently reciprocated the kiss. She no longer felt any pain. She should've told Peter she loved him long before tonight. She should've told him she loved him before they left for the mission. She should've, but it just didn't feel like the right time. When did it ever feel like the right time? Time was more unpredictable than the city.

The kiss grew deeper, Peter's hand trailing up her body to hold her face delicately his calloused palm. He could feel her hands shaking like leaves on the back of his neck, her pants growing hasty as their lips entwined and tangled together. He could taste her so clearly now—something minty and reminiscent of cherries. It soon became his favorite flavor.

She pulled away, eyes still closed. She savored the moment for all of its worth. "Peter . . ." swift drawls of breath, "I love you too."

Relief and happiness fell from his lips in the form of unearthly laughter. A smile brighter than any sun or any hue covered both their faces before their lips collided once again. Peter's hands gently stroked down the length of her hair, taming the frizzy strands and smoothening the tousled pieces. Fits of laughter were muffled by the showering of intimate, fervent kisses. Peter basked blissfully in her ethereal beauty and slipped into a state of tranquility, knowing for certain that he did save Y/N, and she was here in front of him. Now. And it was the right time. He dropped his hands to her waist, allowing her to caress his angular jaw, her thumbs pressing affectionately into his cheekbones. The tears once wet on his face dried beneath the gasps of hot breath, and everything in the world seemed to succumb to the tenderness of their love for each other.

And even the city, as rambunctious as it was during the day, and as somberly alive as it was in the dead of night, seemed to sink into the earth, leaving time behind. Because when there was no time, there was no need to wait for the right moment. Not when the right moment could be every single one in a thousand.

Clint found himself walking across the living room at such a prime time. Somehow, he was always the one to walk in on Peter and Y/N, but this time, he did not interfere. He merely looked for a moment with a smile tugging at his lips, then proceeded towards the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee.

Tony soon joined him, hoping to find some leftover pizza crammed in the refrigerator. After all, he was going to be up all night—might as well not work on an empty stomach.

At first, he walked straight past the window, eyes casually glazing over the two figures passionately kissing on the balcony behind the sliding glass doors. As soon as the man hit the fridge, he had to backtrack, mentally rewinding what he actually saw. He relapsed his steps, Clint nonchalantly sipping on his mug, checking to see if the sugar-cream ratio sufficed.

"What?" That was the only word Tony could seem to coherently speak for the moment. He tilted his head to the side, pinching his eyes shut before reopening them again. Definitely not dreaming. "A-are they—?"

"Yep," Clint replied, pleased with his hot drink. He walked around the counter to join Tony staring at the balcony from the island.

"On the—?"

"Yep."

"Should I—?"

"Nope."

"Gross."

MASTERLIST.

TAG LIST: @reallyconfusednowpt2 @-thatgirloverthere- @mca-attack21 @high-functioning-fangirl02 @dragonfly-flowerbeds @zzeacat @maggieand-theferociousbeast @reanethefirst @shamelessbookaddict @southsidesserpent @enchantedrhoses @alienadvocate @bethanythebold @yuckybucky @uwu-sebastianstan @qwerty28392 @phanficblr @flopmalum @kinghiggins @sugarsweetkiss @light-up-shawn @dontfollowmegoaway @sheismental @toodeeptowake @yllwtaxi @lady-loki-l @printedpeterparker @yourwonderbelle @fandom-fangirl07 @toxicstress @rizamendoza808 @brokenobserver @katielbowen @lovable-hermonica @chaarrlieeeeee @eli-cya @peterfuckingbenjaminparker @sleepyreddie @sarahshersh @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @darling-parker @dat-one-goat @lovenderrose

[ringleadr-blog]

GOOD     EVENING,     LADS          !          it’s     your     friendly     neighbourhood     dickhead,     out     here     with     character     numero     uno:     sebastian     gabriel     abernathy,     lieutenant     general     of     the     fireflies,     unnaturally     nice     man,     deserves     better     than     what     he’s     got,     etc.          !          i’m     c,     i’m     nineteen,     i     use     she/her     pronouns     and     today,     i’ll     be     navigating     you     through     this     absolute     shitshow          ---          and     with     that,     let’s     get     into     it          !

trigger     warnings     include:     death.     pregnancy.     

LAYER     ONE.          BIOGRAPHY.

sebastian  was  fifteen  when  the  outbreak  began     ;     he  remembers  what  life  was  like  before  the  shit  hit  the  fan  but  tbh,  he  doesn’t  like  to  think  about  it  too  much.  it  tends  to  upset  him,  to  remember  what  he  had  before     ---     but  because  i’m  a  demon,  i’m  going  to  make  him  relive  the  experience.

picture  it:  it’s  the  american  dream.  nuclear  family,  picture - perfect     ;     smiling  brunette  trophy  wife,  father  with  a  killawatt  smile.  two  children,  dark - haired  and  bright - eyed  and  beautiful,  golden  retriever  resting  at  their  feet.  it’s  a  picket  fence  kind  of  lifestyle,  sunday  roasts  and  church  bests  and  grace  before  every  meal,  orange  juice  for  breakfast  and  carpooling  to  school.  grandma  adores  you,  pinches  your  cheeks  and  tells  you  how  much  you’ve  grown.  you  laugh  at  her,  shake  her  off  only  to  envelope  her  in  a  bear  hug.  it  seems  abnormal  now,  when  you look  back  on  it,  so  fundamentally  different  to  your  existence  now.

anyways     !     he  was  fifteen  when  the  outbreak  began,  and  the  family  was  actually  on  holiday  in  austin  when  it  began.  he  was  so  delighted  to  be  visiting  austin  and  it  literally  turned  into  a  walking  nightmare.  the  minute  they  understood  what  was  going  on,  they  got  out  and  they  started  running  as  fast  as  they  could,  to  anywhere  they  could.  at  fifteen,  sebastian  knew  loss  already     ;     his  grandparents  went  quick,  and  they  had  a  memorial  under  a  bus  shelter  somewhere  in  memphis.  

his  parents  were  the  next  to  go,  and  it  killed  him  to  watch  them  go.  they  went  down  in  richmond,  virginia,  after  being  attacked  and  eaten  alive.  sometimes,  when  he  tries  to  fall  asleep,  he  can  still  hear  his  mother  screaming  and  it  haunts  him  beyond  words.  he  and  his  sister  decided  that  from  virginia,  they’d  make  their  way  back  to  texas  but  they  never  get  there.

sebastian  is  twenty  at  this  point     ;     still  so  young,  but  the  elusive  stamp  of  pain  and  loss  and  suffering  has  planted  itself  firmly  into  darkened  hues.  he’s  twenty,  and  his  sister  is  twenty - two,  and  they’ve  been  running  since  they  were  teenagers  and  catherine  finally  gives  up.  while  sebastian  sleeps  in  the  backseat  of  a  car  they  stole  somewhere  between  arkansas  and  tennessee,  she  wanders  out  into  a  crowd  of  stragglers.  sebastian  wakes  up  to  find  himself  alone,  completely  alone  and  it’s  the  last  straw.

for  a  while,  he  just  wanders.  he  doesn’t  know  whether  he  wants  to  plunge  headfirst  into  a  group  of  infected  or  whether  he  wants  to  run  them  over.  for  a  solid  three  years,  he  just  drives  all  over,  doesn’t  settle  anywhere,  just  straggles.  he  feeds  when  he  can,  but  it  isn’t  often.  grief  sustains  him,  as  do  stale  cigarettes.

at  twenty - three,  he  finds  the  fireflies  and  at  first,  the  idea  of  joining  is  too  much.  he’s  still  so  deep  in  his  grief,  still  mourning  his  family  but  he  ends  up  joining  anyway,  and  it’s  here  that  he  meets  the  short - lived  love  of  his  life.  

she  guards  the  perimeter  of  the  base  and  he  falls  so  deeply  in  love  that  it  hurts,  and  the  thing  is  that  she  falls  right  back.  theirs  is  a  whirlwind  romance  but  it  has  to  be  when  life  is  fragile.  he  proposes  one  night  while  they’re  lying  in  their  makeshift  bed,  and  they  start  dreaming  about  their  future  together.  this  is  not  to  last,  though,  because  an  advancing  group  of  infected  get  to  her  while  she  guards  one  particular  section  alone.  seb  doesn’t  get  there  in  time,  and  has  to  watch  on  in  horror  whilst  the  love  of  his  life,  mother  of  his  unborn  child,  is  eaten.

he  advances  to  the  position  of  lieutenant  general  when  he’s  twenty - six,  after  being  with  the  fireflies  for  three  years.  he  loves  them  like  family,  and  doesn’t  hesitate  to  grow  the  camp.  slowly  but  surely,  he  comes  to  think  of  himself  as  a father  figure,  a  brother  figure     ---     a  friend,  a  shoulder  to  cry  on,  a  figure  of  stability.  

and  the  thing  is,  after  all  that’s  happened  to  sebastian,  you’d  expect  him  to  be  bitter  and  harsh  and  jaded  and  angry  but  he  isn’t.  he’s  loving,  kind,  gentle,  optimistic     ---     doesn’t  have  a  bad  word  to  say  about  anybody.  he’s  still  deeply  embroiled  in  the  grieving  process,  but  he  doesn’t  let  it  show  because  being  strong  for  his  newfound  family  is  what  he  does  best.

he’s  thirty  now,  but  he’s  every  bit  as  kind  and  optimistic  as  he  was  before  the  outbreak.  he’s  still  growing,  still  learning.  he  refuses  to  believe  that  the  world  can’t  be  fixed,  and  hopes  that  one  day,  things  might  return  to  normal.

LAYER     TWO.          CONNECTIONS.

cue  foreigner’s  i  want  to  love  what  love  is  because  listen     ...........     someone  show  this  poor  man  what  love  is  and  that  he  can  love  again  and  not  be  afraid  of  hurting  anymore

i  would  actually  die  for  his  dead  fiancée’s  sibling     ?????     i  just  kinda  want  them  to  go  through  the  grief  together  and  to  build  something  out  of  it     ---     or  for  the  relationship  to  go  completely  pear - shaped,  id

i’d  love  the  person  that  convinced  him  to  join  the  fireflies  bc  honestly  he  owes  them  so  much  n  loves  them  like  an  adopted  family  member

idk  i  want  lots  of  plots  but  these  are  the  first  few  that  came  to  mind  but  listen     ........     i’m  always  up  for  brainstorming     !!!!!

[a-cai-jpg]

that last scene in my mister

everyone asks me if the drama is sad, and i always say no

bc the drama is many things, but it is not sad.

the song rainbow sounds like the sunrise

just like the sunrise during my favorite montage of the drama, the 3 brothers thrown into hues of blue and orange, quiet words, familiar neighborhood streets, a new day.

the drama feels like the sunrise.

this isn't the last scene of my mister, but it is the scene of my mister that i sat the longest with. park donghoon eats a simple dinner, all alone in his apartment. his wife and son are abroad. they are still married. his son is happy. work is going well. he breaks into tears.

i can almost taste the salt of the tears with his rice, the choking feeling as he tries to swallow each bite.

fuck.

the problem with this drama that makes people think it's sad is because it's not a drama. it's a reflection of life, and there is no happy ending. all is well, but his wife still cheated on him. all is well, but she will forever live with the trauma of her teenage years. all is well, and they once had each other.

i thought about him crying for a really long time, trying to figure out why the director put the scene in there. the final explanation i came up with is that

he can forgive, but he can't forget

he can smile and be well and thrive, but days will come when he just languishes, and days will come when he can't even do that.

which is rly not something most kdramas try to end on--a happily ever after; however comma.

so this is my problem with the drama

humans are so ridiculously complicated, hence this very main character. humans are so ridiculously complicated, and u can never hope to describe them through a book or a character study or a few lines scrawled on their tombstone. humans are so ridiculously complicated, and that's what makes story writing and living so difficult, because u can never, ever predict the next step.

i remember listening to a podcast once, about a dude who gathered frankly an obscene amount of data and computed it all with a super computer in hopes of finding patterns in human life and decision-making. the two-decade long endeavor revealed no patterns. i remember walking down st. joseph's, delivering a letter to the post-office through a door i didn't recognize, fingers freezing from the cold as i clutched the envelope, and muttering, "holy shit" under my breath.

i was unmoored.

which is also why i hesitate, sometimes, to talk about characterization in a story, because who am i to know this person? and ridiculously enough, perhaps the best, most intricate characters are those you simply can't predict.

like park donghoon.

so this is my problem with this drama.

let's say we are given the gift of language to transcribe a shadow of the human experience, to struggle with all our might with hopes of even putting a ghost of what it means to be alive on paper.

(i tried to write it down, but i couldn't find a pen)

how dare the writer play god, and create a human being.

but this is it. life isn't a kdrama, because it doesn't just end once you are happy. it keeps going, and u keep going through periods of languishing and depression. but there are also parts of life that could be a kdrama. park donghoon and lee jian meeting again, after all those years, and her, with a smile on her face, and people by her side. an elevator, an area code, and a bite of cake.

but there's no happily ever after. no let's stay in touch, and i'll mentor u until i'm on my deathbed and u and my wife and son take turns taking care of me. 天下没有不散的宴席。

你来过，陪我走过，就够了。

[lazy-stitch]

I hear and I obey - here’s the background info for this pic. :D  Just be warned: I’m a Trekkie just barely getting into Star Wars lol.  I did my research, but it’s a little hard because Disney retconned everything but the movies.  I have no idea what counts as “in the movies” because I haven’t seen them all (also, stuff like the midi-chlorians could be an unspoken thing in the movies - no idea if they are or not, but it’s a possibility).  Originally I wasn’t gonna do any prompts bc school, but then I saw someone submitted Star Wars as a prompt lol. I’d been half thinking about doing a Star Wars AU after I watched Rogue One, so this was good motivation for me to do something.  The bg info is under the cut bc it’s pretty long.

Another heads up: I mention everyone, but the only ones I really thought about were Vision, Wanda, and those directly related to them (Tony, Ultron, and Pietro).  I also use “First Order” to refer to the bad guys, but if I were writing a fic, I probably would come up with a different name (Empire to First Order, First Order to whatever).

Maximoffs

Wanda and Pietro are from a planet rife with political turmoil and… just bad conditions overall (I’d name one if I could lol).  They’re both sensitive to the Force, Wanda more so than Pietro.

Their parents died because of the Rebellion - specifically Tony’s long-range weapons.  There was a First Order outpost near their home, and their parents got caught up in the crossfire.

Wanda and Pietro grew up on the streets after that, resenting Tony.

Pietro is a hella good pilot.  He knows how to hotwire/upgrade ships and make them go faster.  He’s teaching Wanda, but she’s a bit of a clumsy flyer.

Pietro meets Strucker, a general for the First Order, first and convinces Wanda that they should join the Order to be able to get back at Tony.

Strucker isn’t sensitive to the Force, but he knows how to use a lightsaber (and does, to an extent - but not very often because it has the potential to blow his cover).  He keeps up a lie that he’s a Sith, which is what ultimately drew Pietro and Wanda in since he promised he could train them.

Strucker trains the twins (poorly, but they don’t know that) to use the Force and gives them lightsabers (basic hand-me-down ones, bc the twins are a gamble Strucker keeping hidden from his higher-up Ultron - his plan is to replace Ultron with one of the twins, most likely Wanda since she’s more Force-sensitive.  Pietro is physically stronger but she wields her lightsaber better and is better at using the Force).

Ultron

At least five years before the twins meet Strucker, Tony is builds an android.  He’s the best there is at making them.  There aren’t many Jedi Knights anymore, so he had the grand idea of making droids that could be Jedis to help the Rebellion.

His first Force-sensitive droid is Ultron.  Tony uses his own biological material (blood, maybe other things) when creating Ultron so Ultron has midi-chlorians and can connect with the Force.

Ultron is a failure as soon as Tony boots him up.  Ultron defects almost immediately and joins the First Order.

Ultron, meanwhile, quickly rises in ranks but not as quickly as a Force-user would expect to.  He trains himself because his connection to the Force is weak and because the (unnamed) Sith Lord doesn’t think he’ll do well.  Loki keeps an eye out but doesn’t help Ultron.  

Ultron believes his connection is weak because he has too much metal/droid parts, so he kidnaps Helen Cho to force her to help him run experiments on people and cadavers.  Ultimately, though, he blames Tony, for his weak connection - because if it’s Tony’s biological material or if it’s the body Tony made for Ultron, it’s still Tony’s fault.  This spurns his hatred.

Eventually, a year after the twins join the First Order, Ultron and Cho have perfected the balance needed between droid and human.  Ultron plans on uploading his programs into the body.

The body was a cadaver of a Jedi Knight.  The skin got dyed red, as per Ultron’s wishes, and there’s metal all over the outside and inside for support and to connect the cpu to the extremities to move properly etc.  There is no longer any hair on the body because of the treatments it underwent.  There’s a piece of a kyber crystal in the forehead; the crystal is a chip from a bigger crystal that powered a superweapon (which, depending on kyber crystals work, might be retconned and just left as a kyber crystal was placed in his forehead).

Avengers

Nick Fury is responsible for the Avengers.  He made the small, elite team to do missions quickly and to do them well.  He knows they don’t get along (or, rather, Tony and Steve don’t really get along well, and when they fight, it pulls the others in), but they’re good when they’re connecting.

Tony: Ultron’s failure ended Tony’s attempts at making Force-sensitive droids, but he continued making battle-ready droids that serve as protectors with his AI, J.A.R.V.I.S. (I actually have no idea if AIs are in Star Wars, but it’s conceivable given all the tech they have).  He has a very weak connection to the Force.  He’s a good pilot and trooper, but he makes erratic movements that make it hard for people to work with him.

Steve: He’s a Rebel trooper.  He’s a decent pilot, but he’s no one’s first choice if there are other pilots available.  His cryotube was stolen from the First Order about two years before Tony started working on Ultron.  Steve was a failed human experiment from a previous war - failed as in they couldn’t control his mind, but he did get super-strength.  His friend, Bucky, was the only success.  Once Steve got wind of the First Order reawakening old human experiments (which they did because of Ultron and the possibilities he created just be being alive), he got hope; ever since word about a First Order mercenary called the Winter Soldier started getting to the Rebel forces, he’s been low-key searching for the Winter Soldier to see if it’s Bucky.

Natasha: She had been a merc-for-hire, willing to do the dirty work for any side so long as they paid the right price, but Clint scooped her up into the Rebel forces.  She’s a hella good pilot and trooper - the only one that can best her in a shoot-off is Clint.

Clint: He’s another really good all-rounder like Natasha.  She’s a faster pilot, but he’s far steadier at the helm.  He can shoot any weapon, and unless it’s the first few times he’s using that type, he’ll hit the bullseye every time.  Some think he’s Force-sensitive to explain how he’s such a good marksman, but he denies any sort of connection.  Clint’s hearing was damaged as a teenager from an explosion he was near.

Bruce: He’s a scientist and rarely goes into the field, unlike Tony.  He only joined the Rebel forces after his experiment on himself failed.  He’d tried replicating the First Order’s human experiments, like the ones done on Steve, based off of the rumors and little excerpts he could find.

Thor: He’s a Jedi Knight, the most powerful/only one the Rebellion has.  His brother Loki was also trained as a Jedi, but Loki defected to the Dark Side.  Thor is good as a mechanic (to fix things, not create them).

Rhodey: He’s an exemplary pilot and a decent shot.  He’s usually paired with Tony because they’re childhood friends; he can read Tony and Tony’s various moods better than most people.  He’s the one that dragged Tony into the Rebellion because of his strong sense of justice.

Sam: He’s an up-and-coming pilot and Steve’s understudy to eventually lead the Avengers.  He joined the Rebellion when his friend, Riley, got killed by the First Order.  He’s good with weapons but his melee fighting needs work.

When the storylines meet up

Approximately a year after the twins join the First Order, Ultron gets wind of them.  He decides he’ll train them and kills Strucker for disobedience and the attempted mutiny.  The twins are put off by this (Strucker had kept them isolated so they didn’t really know what the First Order was ever doing), and when Ultron tells them of his experiments, they start thinking they’ve made a mistake.

The Avengers have gotten the word about Ultron’s experiments, since they’d been tracking him since he defected, and they know they have an opening to attack Ultron’s Star Destroyer ship when he completed his new body.

When the twins see Ultron’s new body, they know they need to leave the First Order and to take the body with them/away from Ultron.  Their plan to escape and steal the body before Ultron can upload his programs into it coincidentally coincides with when the Avengers attack.

Basically the bare bones of AoU’s plot but in space lol: The Avengers get the body, the twins, and Cho out of the Star Destroyer, but Pietro dies going back to get Natasha and Clint (since he was the best pilot in good enough condition).  Tony wakes the body with Thor and Bruce’s help, putting his J.A.R.V.I.S. AI into it.  Ultron was far more successful in designing an android (Cho says he’s more along the lines of a synthetic human instead of an android, and Vision prefers that term as well) that could use the Force.  

Thor teaches Vision how to meditate, and he’s left in isolation until the kyber crystal in his forehead changes color from red (or if kyber crystals can’t change colors one they have one (and this is based off of the knowledge that Jedis make their light sabers and mediate with the crystal to get it to represent them - so if they can’t change from red to a different color, then the original blue hue of an unused kyber crystal goes here)) to yellow (meaning he has a balanced effort between scholarly and physical pursuits).  Wanda is also left in isolation with a kyber crystal to test where her loyalties lie.  Hers changes to purple (which means she’s in a gray area, will use both Dark and Light techniques).  It also means she has to work for others to trust her more, but Clint accepted her right off the bat, as did Vision and Thor.

Both Vision and Wanda join The Avengers, being trained by literally everyone in their various fields of expertise (ex. Clint teaching them to shoot, Thor teaching them in the Force, Nat teaching them stealth, etc).

For the lightsaber designs, I gave Vision a saberstaff (one that can be split into two normal lightsabers) because it’s difficult to master.  I felt like it fit him. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  I gave Wanda a lightsaber with a curved hilt because the angle the blade comes out at often confuses opponents and gives better precision to the wielder.  As for their clothes designs, I tried to keep Vision a little more respectful to the Jedi robes while retaining his MCU color scheme.  Wanda I kept a little more free because she’s in the gray area... and her color scheme is not applicable, at all, to the Jedi robes (more applicable to the Siths) lmao.  Since red is an integral part of her character, I couldn’t change it.  I left in little things tho (the hood on her overcoat, making her shirt long and her pants a shade of brown).

But yeah, that is all the background info I collected and built upon for this au... Probably at least 90% was already around when I saw the Valentine’s Day prompt lol.  So, anon who posted it, if you’re reading this, thank you for the kick in the butt I needed.  Hope you’ve at least somewhat enjoyed this lol.

[photochoco]

Out in the Field (pt. 1)

Black Cauldron’s newest recruit learns the ropes. She hopes she isn’t in over her head!

Wisteria had always loved sleeping late. In a world where the night was eternal, and the city only had colored lights to indicate the time, it was easy to lose track. She often would stay up until the deep purples of “night” would slowly gradient into the bright yellows of “daytime”. People more or less adhered to the idea that yellow was for doing things and being awake, and purple was for sleeping. Though Wisty had found that the city came alive during the purple hours in a way it didn’t when the lights were yellow. She herself worked better during purple hours. 

But now, they looked more or less the same. Maybe the purples were a little darker, but Wisty didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them until she’d looked out her window. Monochrome, just like the inside of her colorful room. Had she known this would happen, she would’ve appreciated it all a lot more. She was glad the BC had told her to come in for her orientation when she felt ready. She had curled up on her bed and sobbed her guts out for what felt like hours. It hurt, not seeing any color. Sure, she could still see all the colors in her mind’s eye, but what was the point if she couldn’t see them with her real ones? Her real ones, which were now gaping, black voids. They didn’t even reflect light very much, which was probably the weirdest part. 

For the most part Wisty had stayed cooped up in her apartment, trying to figure out what to do with her artist career. She’d made her way to the BC a couple times to meet with Harvey, but most of her time was spent fighting off a creeping emptiness.

She put on her headphones, pulled out a few locks of hair on each side and looked herself over in the mirror. Perfect, coordinated, adorable. She adjusted her hood and took a deep breath. She forced herself to keep looking when all she wanted to do was shut her eyes.

You are okay.

In front of her apartment complex she wrestled on her roller blades, selected some music, and was off. The breeze as she skated along eased her mind some, and her favorite tunes in her ears eased it more.

She wondered if Harvey had finished designing it yet.

---

The bustling of activity in the cafe area of the Black Cauldron was the same as always, Cadets walking around and chatting with each other. Everyone stopped though, at the sound of something banging into the front door. A heartbeat later, Wisty practically rolled through the threshold, a pair of roller blades in her hand. “Sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to hit the door!”

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Bianca giggled, giving a wave. “You ready for your first day?” “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Wisty said, raising her arms in a stretch. “I hope I don’t cause too much trouble for y’all.”

A tall mage in a bunny mask rounded the corner, a giant calligraphy pen in his hands.

“Ah, perfect. I just finished the final adjustments to your weapon. Here.” Harvey held it out with both hands. Its tip gleamed of newly polished brass. Its long body was black and smooth as Wisty took it in her hands. It was-

“It’s perfect!” she nearly squealed in her excitement. Harvey gave a satisfied nod. “Aaaand here are your ink canisters. I took the liberty of filling them up for you already. And here are the colors in powder form, just add water. Once you run out I can make more for you. And the colors are in the order you requested so you can easily pick them without seeing the hue. There should be enough ink to last you a whole fight, but don’t y’know, go painting the entire city.”

Wisty hugged her pen and ink pack tightly to her chest like a child being gifted a new toy. “I love it I love it I love it!!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down.

Harvey’s bunny mask was stuck in a perpetual grin, but Wisty could glean from his body language that he was quite pleased with his handiwork. “You’ll get a chance to try ‘em out today during your sparring.” “My what?” “Sparring!” Bianca appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm around Wisty’s neck. “You said you don’t have a whole lot of fighting experience yeah? Plus like Harvey said, you’ll totally wanna try out your weapon before heading out there, see whatcha can do!” “Okay…” Wisty said slowly. “But who am I gonna be sparring?” It was then she was lifted bodily off the ground by an enormous hand, which wrapped around her middle as easily as if she were a doll. 

“That would be me, cupcake. You should get a feel for what it’ll be like fighting powerful enemies with a lot of physical strength.” “As ya probably know, ghouls are usually witch cronies, doin’ their dirty work. Not the smartest, but really damn strong,” Bianca added. 

“...Did you just call Pinprick stupid? That’s not very nice!” “Oh no, cupcake, she is mostly right. Being turned into a ghoul scrambled my brains, hehehe,” Pinprick replied with a wide smile. Wisty paused to consider this. “...Still! Be nicer to yourself! I’m fairly sure you’re not stupid.”

“My oh my, what a sweet cupcake you are! But no time for chatter, we must be off to the sparring spot!” 

“Oh cool!” Wisty looked down to be put down. “Where is it?” “Near the outskirts of the city,” Pinprick replied as he squeezed through the small doorframe. “Oh, are we gonna walk?” 

“Nope!” Bianca said, walking up behind them and jumping onto Pinprick’s other arm, balancing herself against his shoulder. “Rooftop hopping is much faster. Observe!” Pinprick bent his legs.

“Wha aaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

---

“Here we are!” Pinprick chirped, letting go of Wisty. “Go stand over there, and we can get started. Oh before you do though…” He held his hand out to Bianca, who placed something in his palm. He then tossed it to Wisty, who caught it. 

“All Cadets carry these bracelets. They’re a magic disrupter, placing them on witches or ghouls disrupts their flow of magic to incapacitate them. But of course, they don’t always do the job, so you all need to know how to fight,” he explained. “That one is just a dummy bracelet of course, completely harmless.” “How does it work?” Wisty asked, looking at the bracelet curiously. “Is it like a taser in bracelet form?”

“Correct! Today, you’re gonna try to get that bracelet on me. Get that bracelet on, and we can call it a day. Unless you get it on real quick though!” Pinprick snickered.

“Oh, you won’t need to worry about that…” Wisty mumbled.

“Chin up, cupcake, back straight! Cuz here I come.”

“Ok so what--” Her words were cut off as Pinprick’s arm shot towards her at an alarming speed.  “ShiT!!” Wisty barely had time to dodge out of the way, one of Pinprick’s fingers clipping her cheek. 

Geezus, he’s fast!! She hopped backwards, trying to gain some distance between them. He lunged towards her again, arm outstretched to grab her. Gripping her pen, Wisty rammed it against his arm, knocking it off course. She barely had time to feel even an inkling of triumph before she was slammed into the ground and pinned there by his other hand. “Not a bad start, cupcake. But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Pinprick crooned. “HhHhhhffffiiiihhhhhhhhne,” Wisty wheezed. “Le’go please my lungs hhhhh-”

Pinprick let her go and she stood up, wincing. Dude could pack a punch. “Ready? Again.” He lunged.

She dodged and slid underneath him, bashing the end of her pen into where she thought the back of his knee was. She must’ve struck true; the giant ghoul kneeled with a small grunt. Wisty yelped in surprise as his entire upper half pivoted to face her. “Surprise!” Wisty barely managed to bend out of the way of his swipe. Noticing the ridges on his arm, she grabbed one and swung herself up onto his shoulders. Pinprick bucked, trying to throw her off. She impulsively grabbed the first thing she could, his hair. “Sorry sorry sorry!” she yelped as she reached for the bracelet.

Her apology was answered by Pinprick grabbing her ankle and yanking her off. Upside-down, she could see Bianca ambling up to the scene, a burger in her hand.

“Howzit goin’?” she asked. “Pinprick is killing the shit out of me, so I’ve come to the conclusion that I will absolutely die if I go fight anything,” Wisty grumbled as she dangled from Pinprick’s hand. He snickered in response. “Hey, don’t feel too bad, this is only a baseline! Imagine how good you’ll be after me ‘n Nate ‘n Dex have taught ya!” Bianca said.

“Hopefully it’ll be a less shameful display than this,” Wisty replied as Pinprick idly swung her from side to side like a pendulum.

“Ready whenever you are, love,” he grinned widely.

“I yield.” Wisty’s legs were far past beginning to wobble. Now she could hardly keep herself upright. Pinprick was not only stupidly fast, but stupidly powerful. He absorbed all of her attacks like they were nothing and dished out brutal counters one after the other. Wisty had been reduced to blocking and dodging. At least she could safely say she was better at that now.

Pinprick raised his hands again in preparation, grinning still. “We’re only getting started, love!”

“What even determines if I’ve won anymore?!” “Simple! Immobilize me and get the bracelet on, and we can call it a day.” “Okay.” “With me at least!” “OH SCREW OOOOOOFF WITH THAT!! I’LL FRIGGIN DIE IF I FIGHT ANYONE ELSE!”

“What’s happening?” Bianca turned and gave a nod of greeting to Dex, who had strolled up to the scene and was now watching with interest.

“The newbie is getting broken in,” she said, cringing as Pinprick sent Wisty flying again. “I think she’s doing...okay…” Dex smirked. “Sure doesn’t look like it, hehe.” “Hey, go easy on her dude, she just started today! I’ve been watching the whole time, I can tell you she’s gotten a lot better already. Aw geez,” Bianca winced as Pinprick threw a punch that caught Wisty on her right cheek, resulting in her swearing loudly. “Remember your safe word!” Dex shouted to her. “My WHAT? PINPRICK YOU CHEATER, YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THAT!!” The ghoul only cackled in response. “You never asked about it, cupcake!” “OF COURSE I DIDN’T, I’M NEW HERE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!” Wisty screeched.

As Pinprick rushed her again, she didn’t wait. This time she lurched to meet him, jumping in the air and landing an impressive high kick on Pinprick’s chin. “Close!!” Dex shouted. “Keep trying--oof, that looked like it hurt.” 

Pinprick had slugged Wisty full force in the torso, and the girl skidded several yards away and hit some nearby boxes, sending dust everywhere. “I’ll go get the nurse bed ready,” Bianca sighed, turning to head back to the Black Cauldron.

Was Pinprick just that strong? Or did she just suck that bad? Wisty coughed on the clouds of dust filling the air. Fine. Fine.

Fine.

She reached behind herself to her ink cartridges. One, two, perfect.

“Yo Pinprick! Did you kill her, man?!” Dex called to his comrade. “Ahoho, I certainly hope not, we were having so much fun!” Before he could say anything more, though, a thin jet of orange ink fired from the dust cloud. The instant it made contact with the ground, it triggered a huge explosion. “HOLY FUCK!!!” Dex hollered as Pinprick skidded backwards, blinking in surprise.

“Oho, it seems the newbie has a few tricks up her sleeve! Good, good!” he laughed. The dust was settling, and now he could see Wisty standing with her back nearly against the brick wall. Just...standing there. “Oh come now love, you can’t be that tired already! You’re leaving yourself...wide! Open!” Pinprick sprinted forward and thrust his left arm out. Wisty swiftly jumped to the side, his right, and he attempted to grab her again, this time with his right hand. She ducked again, resulting in both Pinprick's hands smashing into the wall, sending pieces of brick flying. Wisty took aim with her pen, and fired. Black ink streamed from the tip and coated Pinprick’s hands. His first instinct was to tug--

And they didn’t budge. The ink was like tar.

“What in the--” his words were cut off as Wisty grabbed his arms, flipped herself up onto his shoulders and, using him as her own personal launching pad, leapt up into the air. She shoved another cartridge into her pen and aimed. “Gotcha.” Orange ink streamed. Pinprick was caught in a massive explosion. Dex shielded his face as the heat wave slammed into him. 

“Jeezus God, what the hell did Harvey put in those inks??” he muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared, he could see Pinprick, still standing, his hands free from the black ink, but looking significantly more banged up. 

“Yeowzers,” Dex trotted up next to the ghoul to get a closer look at the damage. “That was pretty awesome. Might cause some property damage, though.” “But really, when don’t we cause just a little property damage?” Pinprick pointed out, dusting himself off. 

“Wait...where’d Wisteria go?” 

“Hmm...did she get blown away from the explosion…?” Pinprick mused. “She was right--”

His entire body was knocked to the ground as Wisty dropped down from above onto him. Dex barely managed to jump out of the way with a squawk. 

“You little--” Pinprick hissed, but the girl had a firm grip as she snapped the bracelet around his neck. 

“Friggin...got it...Geezus…” she huffed.

She slid off Pinprick as he straightened himself up, looking very pleased.

“Well well well, color me surprised, cupcake! You were quite clever to coax me into getting my hands stuck to the wall. So, orange ink makes explosions, hmm?”

Wisty twirled a lock of her hair looking sheepish, but very happy with herself. “Hehehe, to be honest, while designing my weapon and the ink color effects, I’d asked Harvey which effects each of you guys were resistant to or weak against. Y’know, in case I lend you a hand out in the field. I want to make sure I don’t accidentally hurt one of you.”

Dex let out a whistle. “Damn, you might even give witches a run for their money with smarts like that. But for now, howsabout we get you back to BC? You look like you’re gonna collapse. Your cheek ain’t lookin so good either.” Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, throbbing aches began to make themselves known all over Wisty’s body. Her right cheek really, really hurt, and she gingerly pressed her fingers against it, wincing as the swollen flesh protested.

“Do forgive me for goin’ so hard on you cupcake. Needed to make sure you were prepared; out there, it could be even more dangerous.” Pinprick reached out and ruffled Wisty’s hair, wiggling her whole head back and forth.

“You two got pretty banged up. How about we head back to BC to getcha patched up?” Dex jerked his thumb back to his bike, which was parked nearby. 

“See ya back at BC, cupcake. And you too, Dex,” Pinprick wiggled his fingers in farewell.

“Awwwww C’mon Pin, aren’t I a cupcake too?” Dex asked, his puppy-dog voice belied by the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not! Go on now, I’ll see you two back there!” With a mighty leap, Pinprick was off, hopping from roof to roof with ease. Within no time at all he was out of sight. Wisty slumped. “Urgh, I barely hurt him at all. Look at him doin’ parkour shit while I can barely stand--” Right on cue, her legs buckled. She was saved by Dex, who swooped down and grabbed her under the arms.  “Tracy will get you all fixed in no time. Pinprick only went so hard on you because he felt you had potential you were holding back. His method of bringing it out is to hit as hard as he can, hehe. You seem promising, rookie. I’ll have to be extra careful when we fight.” “You use GUNS.” “In the field! Sparring I use blanks. And my lithe body.” Wisty burst out laughing as Dex helped her to the bike. “You guys are merciless! I don’t wanna do anything until I’m not hurting everywhere.” 

“Nothin’ a lil magic n’ a hot bath can’t fix. Aight, get on the back,” Dex said, turning the key in the ignition. “DeeDee likes to go fast, so you might wanna hold on.”

“Okay...uh where…” Wisty hesitantly gripped Dex’s shoulders. 

“Here we go!” The bike flared to life and Dex squeezed the handle.

The inertia as they took off was unexpected and Wisty had to momentarily throw her arms around Dex’s middle to keep from tumbling off the back. But soon enough her hands were back to his shoulders as they drove along, buildings and power lines passing by in a blur.

It was exhilarating. 

“Not too fast for ya, newbie?” “It’s awesome! I love going fast!” “Heh, hang on then!”

Wisty closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, lost in the music from her headphones and the feeling of the wind as they drove along. This was giving her an idea for… She opened her eyes. Ah. Right. What she would’ve given to see what this all looked like in color. The blurred buildings. The bright moon. Dex’s scarf as it fluttered and danced behind them. He had told her it was red, but what shade of red? What shade were her inks? What if she forgot the colors she knew? Her mouth twisted as tears again stung her eyes. Not that any would fall, the wind was drying them up. 

“Hey just so ya know, you might wanna actually hang on to my middle or else you’ll fall off!” Dex called over his shoulder.

“What?” Wisty shouted back right before they went over a bump. She yelped and clung to Dex again. He snorted.

“Soooooo, have you thought about partnering up with anyone?” he asked her. “Uh...no, not really.” “Would you like to? Newbies usually tend to, though I don’t think Alphus ever did, heh.” “I dunno. I mean, I...” The truth was, she’d loved to partner up with someone. Maybe then she could stop that cycle of loneliness before it even started. 

But… “--It’d be nice to have someone show me the ropes!” 

What kind of person just went around telling others how they struggled with loneliness and just wanted to be included? It wasn’t their problem. It was hers, and she didn’t need to be included just so as to not be rude. Even if it hurt, a lot. Still… Please let this be different. Don’t let this be a repeat of every time I’ve tried to join a group. 

Her grip tightened. If Dex noticed, he didn’t say anything as he rounded a corner hard, tires screeching. 

“Y’know, you should really wear a helmet, especially driving like this!” “Naaahhhh, I’m too cool for one!” “No one is too cool for head safety, my dude.”

“This hair is!”

He weaved easily in and through the crowd. Wisty could see people staring as they flew by. What a strange pair they must look, a boy with glowing white eyes and a girl with black voids for hers. If they could even see them. “...Hehehe.” 

Wisty stood up suddenly, her arms spread wide. “Whooooooo!!!” “WISTERIA SIT DOWN! You’re gonna fall off!”

“My balance is really good!” 

Luckily for her, and Dex’s blood pressure, the Black Cauldron was within sight now. He pulled into the corner and Wisty hopped off as he turned his bike off. “That was awesome! Can we do it again sometime?” she asked excitedly.

Dex twirled the keys around his index finger. “Sure! If you can beat me when we spar.” “Oh--that is so unfair!! I can’t do that, change your conditions you meanie!” 

“Take it or leave it, sweetheart!” Dex smirked. 

“The only thing I’m taking is a nap, cuz--” Wisty’s legs gave out from under her. “Everything is hurting right now.”

“Let’s get you to Tracy, rookie.”

--- ---

And then Wisty slept for 44 years, content that her character arc was beginning. The lil spinoff series continues! What awaits the newbie? Probably a coupla witches and sprayin’ ink everywhere.

[kpop-stole-my-sanity]

Sweater Paws // Na Jaemin

Summary: In which you struggle to decide the perfect present for Jaemin (feat. Dreamies).

Genre: flooooooof

Word Count: 1399

A/N: In honor of Jaemin’s (my bby’s) birfday––and as an apology for those who requested stuff like two months ago––I wrote this short story. (Yay?) I AM TRULY, TRULY SORRY TO THOSE WHOSE REQUESTS I AM STILL WORKING ON.  This summer has been super stressful bc I'm preparing college applications. I am really trying hard to finish up those scenarios, so please bear with me. I AM SO SORRRRRRYRRRYRYRYYRYRYRYYRYYRYRRY!!! DDD: (I hope you lyk)

D-4:

“Are you sure? I’m worried.” You’re eyes shift left to right rapidly, the fear starting to build up. Mark, sitting comfortably on the other couch, sighs, “Jesus. Y/N, relax. If it’s from you, he’ll love it.” You look up at the boy, feeling kind of bad about bothering him so much. Since your usual “therapist” was out of commission, Mark was your temporary replacement. Your gaze shifts back to the cute box in front of you. Is it too much? Not enough? What if he hates it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of soft snoring; you turn your head. Mork Lee has fallen asleep. You can’t blame him though. Dealing with your worries and self-doubt all day is probably exhausting. Legs moving by themselves, you move closer to him. You pull the blanket off a nearby chair and drape it over the boy gently. When you are finally satisfied with your work, you grab the box and exit the room, door shutting behind you with a soft click.

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D-3:

“I’m tired! Can’t we sit down for just a second?” Chenle whines. You want to deny him of his request and push him to keep on shopping, but you make the mistake of looking at his face. His full-blown, puppy-dog face. And even worse, he’s convinced Jisung to do it with him! How could you say no to them?

“Fine,” you sigh. You watch as the two boys excitedly run towards the nearest table, dramatically falling into the chairs. Laughing, you walk over to join them.

“Y/N, why are you still shopping? I thought you already got your gift.”

You find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip as you try to put togfether your response: “I just feel like it’s not enough… Like I should be giving him more? Or something more meaningful?” You look down and close your eyes, negative thoughts attacking you from every angle. If you didn’t get the perfect thing, Jaemin’s disappointment would be enough to eat you up alive. You just want him to be happy.

You head rises when you feel a light tug on your hair. Jisung tries to reassure you: “Jaemin will like whatever you get for him, Y/N. Because it’s you.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips. “That’s what Mark said.”

“Well, although Mark is often clueless or wrong about things, this time, he seems to know what he’s talking about,” Chenle snorts.

Jisung’s eyes widen and laughter rings through the air. Your uncertainty keeps you from being fully absorbed by the hilarity of the situation, though it does help a little bit. If the three of them are telling you the same thing, then it should be right. Right?

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D-2:

“Jeno! Jeno! Jeno!” “What’s up?” “What did you get for Jaemin?” “Um… A fluffy stuffed pig and some games he wanted.”

You face drops, “That isn’t even close to what I got him.” Jeno’s brows furrow at your words. “Isn’t that a good thing? We don’t want to get him the same thing.”

You reply by pressing your forehead against the wall. You let out a frustrated groan, a barely understandable “You don’t understand!” coming out of your mouth.

“What was that ungodly noise?” Footsteps approach from down the hallway. You spin around, replacing your forehead with your back. You slide down, butt landing roughly on the ground.

“Oh, it was just Y/N again.”

You look up to glare at Donghyuk. He sticks out his tongue at you before turning to Jeno.

“Is she still going on about Jaemin’s birthday present? He isn’t going to like anything she gets him anyways.”

“LEE DONGHYUK!”

He simply chuckles, loving how easily he could get a reaction out of you. Donghyuk steps closer to you, squatting down to let you see his face more clearly.

“In all seriousness, he’s going to love it.”

The kindness and honesty catches you off guard. Another sigh escapes your lips, and you allow your concerned face to be replace with a soft smile.

“It’s gross, cheesy, and very cliché, but Jaemin will definitely love it.”

You roll your eyes, hand automatically moving to fully cover Donghyuk’s smug face. You give it a push, tipping him over. Immediately, he begins crying about how you “ruined” his beautiful face with your “dirty hands.” You just get up and move towards the kitchen, leaving Donghyuk on the floor and a cackling Jeno behind you.

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D-1:

Staring at the sky, you admire the orange-pink hues of the sunset. It’s beautiful, you think.

You close your eyes and let your neck go limp, your head hitting the back of the chair. For a second, it seems like you’re peacefully sleeping. But only for a second.

“Hey! Y/N! What are you doing?!?!”

You ignore the voice, continuing to hit your head on the backrest over and over again. You only stop when you feel the cushion of something else behind your head.

“What do you want Renjun?” You ask, eyes fluttering open.

“I want you to stop damaging the few brain cells you have left, please? I’m sure Jaemin wouldn’t be too thrilled if his girlfriend went brain-dead the day before his birthday.”

You look up and give him a small nod, signaling that he could remove his now. He obliges, and instead moves to sit on the lawn chair next to you. The two of you stare at the horizon, admiring the colors painting the sky. It’s quiet for a while.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” “Yeah.” “Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Stop worrying. Even if you didn’t get him anything, Jaemin would be happy just seeing your face.” “…” “So just show up and give him the gift tomorrow. Okay?” “Okay.”

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D-0:

“Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday dear Jaemin~ Happy birthday to you~~~”

Applause resonates throughout the small room and cheers erupt as Jaemin blows out the candles. “Thanks for being here you guys,” he looks at you, “and girl.”

Your eyes look down to your intertwined fingers. How long has it been since you held hands like this? A frown appears on your face as you realize something, and Jaemin notices immediately.

“What’s wrong, love?” “I just realized that I haven’t visited in almost two weeks because I was looking for a present!”

He laughs at you, finding your worries adorable. Still, he gives your hand a light squeeze, letting you know that it was okay. You stare at him. How could he still be so positive, soft-tempered, and forgiving while being stuck in a hospital bed all day?

“You’re amazing, you know?”

Your compliment shocks him, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Y-Y/N!”

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, earning groans from the other boys in the room.

“No PDA, please! Children are present!”

“Shut up, Donghyuk.”

❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧

“Y/N~” Jaemin chirps. You only bury your head deeper into his chest. “Will you please give me my present now? The other boys have left the room, like you asked.”

It takes a while, but Jaemin’s aegyo finally forces you to give in. You hand him the box, then immediately crouch down, using the hospital bed to hide your face. The sound of wrapping paper ripping is all that you can focus on. When you hear Jaemin removing the top of the box, you hold your breath. Silence. And then he taps your shoulder.

Hesitantly, you peek over the edge of the bed, preparing yourself for his reaction. To your surprise, he’s already put the sweater on. In his hands, he holds the other one out to you, his smile as bright as ever. Needless to say, you are relieved. You take the matching Minnie Mouse sweater and try to tug it over your head, the neckline of the sweater giving you a harder time than you anticipated.

When you finally manage to get your head through, Jaemin is close. Really close. He stares into your eyes, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

He leans closer, the tips of your noses just barely touching, and parts his lips.

“You’re cute.”

Your face heats up and you back up, sweater paws coming up to hide your face. Jaemin rolls around in the bed, giggling at your reaction. You pout at him, exaggerating it a bit so he knows you aren’t serious. He reaches over and lightly pinches your cheek.

“Thank you, Y/N. I love it.” “Really?” “Really.”

[looktotheants-a]

what’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses?

hnak has blogs indulge me | accepting

each? well okay

okay this is gonna go under a readmore because i have a fuckton

-takes a deep breath-

hank: probably the weirdest headcanon i posted for him was that his helmet lets him talk to bug identifying otherkin because the comics define bug so broadly that why the fuck not

finesse: very deep into how-to videos on youtube. watches them constantly

cory: compound eyes are really trippy to see through while high

maria: uses a spear in modern day combat for some fucking reason

topher: wears so many sweatervest because he likes the knit textures but hates being given them as gifts because 

doris: might be an angel???

monique: is a connoisseur of energy drinks

success: is actually the least powerful of her family of superhumans, but the only one who ended up a superhero because of some bad luck

mai: deliberately has an obnoxious laugh because she hated her laugh for a long time, then decided to embrace it instead and fuck everyone else if they don’t care for it

slipknot: can tie knots with his teeth or feet if he’s barefoot

kavita: finds starfish inherently funny

mama sharpe: not really a headcanon but one of the weirder plots i had on her for a while was she was trying to make billy turner aka scout into a model because he had one arm and she wanted diversity points

shachath: constantly surrounded by dead bugs that land on her

william: comically unambitious

rose: loves kitschy shit

steven: goes through phases of collecting things but then loses interest and goes for something else so he has a lot of medium-to-large but still incomplete collections of various collectables

cecilia: collects interesting looking wine bottles. also saves ones from important events

zeke: struggles with buying cigarettes or buying comic books every wednesday and always caves into the former

ned: hates the concept of cream pies, but makes them anyway

scott: buys mini m&ms because he swears they taste better than normal ones, but grows them to the size of regular ones so he has more chocolate

bumblebee: has a box of naked barbie dolls tucked away somewhere

june: not a headcanon because this was real canon but she ran over her dad with a tractor

jenny: hates the power rangers because every year for halloween someone suggests she dress up as the yellow power ranger because it’s basically the only costume that can work with her containment suit

beryl: not a headcanon but my weirdest plot wishlist thing for her is i want her to lose an eye because her fc has a strangely large number of movies where she’s got an eyepatch so???

quinn: buys a lot of faer regular clothes at post-halloween sales bc fae includes a lot of ridiculous theatricality in faer wardrobe

maurice: man idk fuck this guy tbh. i guess he’s just really bad at coming up with psych experiments which would be ironic except that his solution is so just throw out ethics altogether so instead of ironic he’s jsut bad

quarrel: puts too many veggies on pizza. basically makes salad on a bread plate

monica rappaccini: hate earnest hemingway bc he was an ass but also quotes him a lot bc he’s just quotable

jason & ian: get about four hours of sleep max every night and run almost entirely on caffeine and cocaine respectively

jericho: will wear as few clothes as any particular situation allows. also her superhero costume is literally leftover costume pieces from theatre

iraceus: his name is actually a portmonteau of his name and his dead twin’s name which is weird if by weird you mean sad

monica chang: has a secret lego collection in her parents’ attic

alice: has a huge collection of trash from neighbors which she shrinks so she can transfer the mass to food and stuff

relinquish: uses diplomatic immunity to fly hot air balloons without a license

aya: prefers to address people with more formal terms because she wants to show that she is polite and nice

kita: wears a lot of sunglasses, like he’s trying to hide something about his eyes even though they look 100% normal but he wants to be more ~mysterious~

jocasta: annoyed by humans a lot of the time and doesn’t want to be seen as human because she’s not, but wants to do human things like have a baby

skyler: surprisingly okay with weed, privately, but wouldn’t say so now after walt

jeremy: uses his powers to make THC

kelly: was ridiculously busy in college because she was doing gymnastics and majoring in marine biology. also i kinda bent the laws of time for her because i decided she had puberty blockers, which wouldn’t have been available at the time but FUCK IT i do what i want

sam: literally everything about them is weird. they’re from night vale. they’re very emotionally attached to their shotgun

daria: not really weird but i think i read way more socialist/communist ideology into daria’s beliefs than the writers necessarily intended

aaron: likes to keep fish and when he’s traveling, he’ll create temporary fish tanks in his hotel rooms

friday: exists in a world where commercial mascots are real and has interacted with at least a few. probably fought the noid from domino’s

lillian: world’s clumsiest vampire

trauma: has a lot of opinions about the difference between goth and emo

elisa: got into psychology as part of a plan to take over a country which isn’t really a headcanon but it’s also just like a weird plan for taking over a country

miguel: pays too much in rent for his apartment tbh because he spends more nights at work than at home

lauren: tries very hard to have a personal life that’s separate from work, but it’s difficult bc she also has to babysit miguel

justin: likes swedish fish bc they’re vegan

xerxes: pretends to not like broadway shows, but does, and also prefers to sneak into them

hiroshi: pretends to be very proud of dropping out of an ivy league school because that seems like a cool counter-cultural thing to do, but actually super regrets it bc he can’t remember why it happened (kita up there was responsible, back at number 36)

yellowjacket: surprisingly nit-picky about cleaning and organization, the opposite of hank

ambrose: i mean this isn’t really weird, to me, but i guess it’s weird to other people, but like one of zir special interests is death positivity

janet: again, not actually that weird, but janet actually likes bugs. like she’s not an entomologist but i hate how often girls are depicted as thinking of bugs as icky, especially superheroines that are named after bugs like wtf

guy: local pyromaniac doesn’t know what to do with his hands

geoluread: laughs in the face of disaster because it probably won’t hurt hues

karnilla: can turn into a motherfuckin’ dragon

tomi: mm idk she’s more of a switch than anything else, but because of her job as a dominatrix and a lot of trust issues, she doesn’t get a lot of opportunity to sub ono

stonewall: literally became a superhero by accident bc she saw a fight at a protest and just threw a pride flag over her face to hide her identity to help the protesters and then stumbled into superheroness from there

winged victory: very socially awkward, despite her very public identity and good speaking skills

guard: speaks like eight languages but will play dumb about that as often as benefits him.

brad: originally had him born in the 60s but i aged him up about 20 years so he could be alive to write kirk/spock slash fic in the early days of fanfiction

kaiba: really way too in love with that fucking dragon

schrodinger: hmmm well i guess like. idk most of my things about schrodinger are tragic or a thinly veiled critique of moderate white liberalism. he likes marmite which i guess is weird