#dammit my phone put sews instead of sees

[every-dayiwakeup]

Neil's level of control varies with Susan, Max, and Billy:

Susan sees what Neil is doing to Billy, but she doesn't do anything.

Max sees what Neil wants her to see, which is Billy fucking up her life and trying to control her.

Billy sees Neil for what he truly is, but Neil controls how Billy sees himself. I think Neil redirects whatever hatred billy has for him and pits that against Billy himself. For Billy to believe he deserves this, and worse. For him to believe that he's the problem, not his father. Neil doesn't have to hide who he is from his son. He hides who Billy really is from himself. Because who Billy really is, his individuality, scares Neil.

Who is the real Billy Hargrove? We met him in his memories, when he pushed back at his first monster. He's bigger now, but at this point the best push he can manage is talking back, as we see when Neil enters Billy's room. Now the thing is, he knows no matter what he does, Neil will hit him. He doesn't know when, but the slap is inevitable. Billy gains a tiny bit of control by talking back. Even if he stayed quiet, he'd still get hit. Neil shows him that no matter what he does, he will be punished. This proves to Billy that any attempt to fight back will not change the outcome. He is ultimately forced into a corner, powerless.

[cheyningdiamond]

A fic where Hank suddently wakes up, seeing the boombox Man, just to discover all the massacre Was a dream

Adding more because AU stuff hehe

Hank grunted and groaned weakly as he slowly opened his eyes. His ears ringing in pain and agony as his head throbbed in ceaseless pain. Where was he? All he remembered was fighting in the arena grounds of Nevada against the Auditor. His once MAG-nified body was now more average built...

What happened to him...?

"Hank? Hank!" He saw Eddy, the boombox wielding man, kneel down and look him over. "Oh Jesus. Shit dude, I'm sorry... I-I didn't mean to hit ya so hard..."

Hank blinked, looking down at his body, then his hands. He felt a slight tightness on his chest.

"Wh...Whuh... happeh...?" He was still dazed all to Hell.

Another grunt was seen on the phone, calling an ambulance. His head was bleeding from the rough punch Eddy swung at him.

"Shh, don't talk, man... Here." He took his own jacket off and wrapped it around his shaven head. "There... Sh-Should help the bleeding, yeah?"

Hank weakly tried swinging his fists at Eddy, in an attempt to break free. "Where's... San- Dei- Auuidiitor..." He groaned. "Trihh...ckyy...?"

Eddy blinked. "Ahh fuck me, I really caved your brain in, huh... Shit..." He held Hank close, gently pressing the jacket into his head to try and stop the bleeding. "Just relax, ok? Paramedics are on their way..."

"P-Parah... hhuh?" What was happening? No, no this had to have been a dream...

Did the Auditor knock him out??

Where was he!?

Paramedics did indeed come and took Hank. He ended up passing out on the way over there...

When he came to, he saw doctor looking down at him with worrisome eyes.

"A-Ah, Mr. Wimbleton... Y-You're awake..."

He moaned slightly as he was still trying to get his vision to adjust to the newer setting.

"I-I'm Dr. Friend. How are you feeling?"

Hank stared at him, then shook his head slightly out of disbelief.

"Where... Am I? Where are my friends?"

"Your friends?"

"S-Sanford... Deimos... Dammit, where are they!?"

The doctor flinched at Hank raising their voice.

"S-Sir, please calm down... You do not need to be in hysteria... I just sewed your head... Please, do not put yourself under more stress..."

Hank frowned and looked away. He didn't know what was going on, or why. The familiar park he was in, the boombox, Eddy... This was all crazy.

"...I'm sorry..." He mumbled, giving up for now.

"It's quite alright... You're lucky, you know. I was told you bled quite a lot on the way over..." He moved close and looked at the bandages over Hank's head.

Eddy definitely wore rings when that happened, that son of a bitch...

Hank sighed and stayed quiet...

A nurse came into the room. "Sir, the patient's family is here."

"F-Family?" Hank asked, blinking.

"Ah, yes... Bring them in. I need to go check on my other patients."

He looked over at Hank. "Think you'll be okay on your own?"

Hank was still processing everything and just blindly nodded.

Dr. Friend smiled and left the room.

Hank stared down at his normal looking hands and arms. He wasn't as buff as he used to be and the giant claw-like arm he had was gone... No metal jaw, no nothing...

Was it all a dream...?

No, it couldn't have been!!

Hank snapped out of his deep thoughts when he couldn't believe who ran into the room.

A small child, wearing a bright blue sweater and rainbow pants ran in, crying.

"M-Mommaaa...!!" He cried, jumping onto the bed and hugging Hank.

Hank's eyes shot open... Last thing he remembered was Happi being taken away from him... Seeing him here just-

It left him speechless...

He stared at his son, who was sniffling and hiccupping.

"M-Momma! We heard you got hurt! Are you okay, Momma??"

Hank just stared. Skittles saw tears pouring out of his mother's eyes and felt himself being hugged tightly.

"Ah- Mom...? Wh-What's wrong?"

Hank sniffled, not letting go... It was years. Years... And Skittles looked like he was only 5...

"Hey, don't crush the kid, now." Hank looked up, seeing... his siblings.

The same siblings that took his baby away. The same that hated his guts.

The siblings that had the worst war-torn faces. Now, they looked... Normal. No scars, no fake jaws, nothing too!

Hank stared at Heather and Henry, blinking. Instead of the mercenary outfits, Heather wore a white hoodie and pale rose sweatpants and Henry had on a pink leather jacket and black jeans.

Hank blinked. "H...Heath...er? Henry...??"

"Heyy, he didn't get amnesia. You owe me, sis."

"Shut up, asshole..." Heather looked at Hank and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How ya feelin' big bro?" She held his hand, seeing some dried blood still on his hand from holding his injured head.

"Big- excuse me!?" He glared. He couldn't stop himself from getting pissed. "Wh-Who are you to call me that!?"

She blinked at the sudden aggression, but glared right back. "Uhm, I'm your sister, you jerk... Why are you suddenly getting angry at me? I didn't punch ya, now did I?"

"Oh but you could!" Henry laughed, making his sister and brother glare at him, even his nephew gave him an unhappy look.

"...What??"

Hank looked at Heather and sighed. "I-I'm... I'm sorry... I just- I don't know what's going on anymore..."

"Look, I get you're still pissed... I dunno if it has anything to do with earlier at park, but-"

"Wait, where am I living right now?"

Heather blinked and looked at Henry. "Dammit, he does have amnesia! Well, there goes $50."

She looked back at Hank. "You're...You and Happi are living with us... How do you not remember this?"

"A-And- hhh-...him...?"

Heather stared, then looked at Hank with worry.

"...He's in jail, Hank... What's gotten into you? We had his ass in prison ages ago..."

He stared, then looked down.

My God...

It really was all a dream...

Sanford, Deimos, Jeb, Tricky...

Auditor...

Hank put his hands over his face as his head kept throbbing. No amount of pain pills was gonna ease his aching head... Not with everything that happened...

Or, didn't happen...

Skittles gently put his hands over Hank's hands. "Mama... Hurt?"

Hank looked at the child and smiled weakly. "No, baby... I'm ok..." He hugged Skittles close, then opened his other arm, looking at his siblings.

The two looked at each other, confused by his sudden affection. But, they walked over and Hank pulled them into a tight hug.

"...I love you guys..." He started to sob. "I love you guys so mm-mmuch..."

The siblings awkwardly looked at each other, then at their older sibling.

"Uh, yeah man..."

"We love you too, Hank... Mom'll be here shortly. Doc said we can pick ya up today..."

Hank smiled softly, drying his eyes. Even getting to see his mother again made him feel pure joy...

No more war.

No more Auditor...

No more MADNESS...

Hank chuckled quietly, and looking at his siblings with a delighted grin.

"I-I... I'd like that..."

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s Notes: Edit 4/27/2021: Modified a few scenes and added more bits of conversation!

TWs/CWs: mentions of past abuse, abusive parents, noncon elements courtesy of Niragi

III

hey girl, open your walls / play with your dolls / we'll be a perfect family

A tense silence had befallen the car.

Niragi had finally kept his mouth shut while Saiko drove in peace. Last Boss is staring blankly ahead, and Yamane’s sneaking wary glimpses at him. Across the horizon, the Seaside Paradise Tokyo comes into view, and Yamane almost jumps out of her seat.

“The Beach is Seaside Paradise?” she asks no one in particular, mouth agape as they approached. The walls had been spray painted red with the katakana for “Beach”, and Yamane can feel the bass pounding through her chest, even from their distance.

“What, a rat like you never been to a place this fancy before?” Saiko interrupts.

“...my father used to bring me with him while speaking to his business partners in the resort. The resort got their amenities from his company,” Yamane mutters in response, averting her gaze and choosing to look out the window again.

At her admission, Niragi and Saiko turn to her. “Was that company by any chance called Yamacorp? Oh, don’t tell me…” Niragi starts, smirking. Saiko is squinting, and after halting the car, she reaches back to squeeze Yamane’s face, taking a good look at her.

“You’re that disgraced Yamacorp heiress,” Saiko blurts out, letting go of Yamane’s face and setting her eyes on the road again. “Now I know why your name seemed familiar. Shit, and I almost didn’t recognize you because of your getup. Your story was all over the tabloids.”

The admission opened a can of worms and Yamane grimaced at herself. As she slumped back to her seat, she groans and leans her head against the backrest in resignation. “Can we not bring that up?”

“The tabloids said you flunked all your classes in university because you partied too much, and your parents cut you off, then you started sucking old men’s dicks so you can still afford all that shit you put on your face,” Saiko continues, smirking, not paying any heed to the other woman’ request. At that point, Yamane’s temper is starting to simmer underneath her stony expression.

“All the tabloids ever publish are sensationalist bullshit, and I already had the feeling that you’re the type to eat that all up without a second thought. I suggest you shut the hell up before I ruin your pretty face with my good arm.”

Brakes screeching, Saiko sneers and points a gun at Yamane’s face. “Niragi, control your new pet. She’s getting too mouthy.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do. Get her to shut up yourself,” Niragi says in response, pointing the barrel of his rifle at her, and his tongue slips out of his mouth, licking his sneering lips.

“I mean it,” Yamane challenges, temper flaring further.

Fingers itching for the dagger on her hip, Yamane gives the other woman a good look. Saiko’s taller, legs running for miles from what she can see; if the circumstances were different, she would’ve been Yamane’s type. It doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman, she preferred the tall ones. However, Saiko is being unnecessarily hostile. Being held against her will, coupled with the pain from her injury gave Yamane the urge to carve her face off.

She shudders at her own thoughts. They’re not a stable person’s urges.

“Take her word for it.” Last Boss says, and everyone’s attention shifts to him. Then, he turns to Yamane. “Yamaneko killed a man in our game, and assisted me with another.”

Upon hearing the new moniker, Yamane turns to the tattooed man, her eyes meeting his. The backrest is still warm when she leans back and looks away. “Wildcat? At least it’s better than ‘rat’,” she thought. She still didn’t expect it to come from Last Boss, of all people.

“Shut up and drive already,” Niragi scolds Saiko, and she rolls her eyes at him as she withdraws the gun from Yamane’s face. Fuming, Saiko steps on the gas and they continue speeding towards the Beach.

“So, are the rumors true though? Did you really suck dick to survive?” Saiko asks.

“What’s this, an interview? You don’t have one, so I guess you’ll never know. Next question.”

Niragi snickers, mumbling something to himself, while Saiko rolls her eyes.

“For some sheltered princess from a rich-ass family, you seem awfully calm with a gun pointed to your face. Care to share why?” she comments.

“Okay, interview’s over. I’m done talking about a life I’ve already left behind.”

To Yamane’s relief, the car was quiet once more. However, the thoughts of home continued to linger in her mind.

“Hey oneechan, when are you going to come visit?”

Truth be told, Yamane didn’t know what to say. All the other person on the other side of the line can hear is silence.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah. I’m still here Mai,” replied Yamane, barely concealing the crack in her voice. “You know why I can’t go home again.”

“Mom is dead. Her funeral is tomorrow.”

Breathing in deep, the exiled daughter closes her eyes. “Mai, the last time she saw me, she slashed my arm with my own sewing shears.”

“I know, I know. You know, I admire you. I didn’t think I had it in you to defy our parents. You were so… pliable. No offense, sis.”

“Well, that was how I avoided punishment. Try to please them and hope that it’ll be enough for them to lay it off.”

Mai gives her sister a nervous laugh, and the conversation almost dies. In the background, a baby’s cry pierced the quiet and left both sisters speechless. If one listens close enough, they can hear Yamane’s breath hitching in her throat.

“Mai, was that a baby? Don’t tell me you got knocked up, dammit.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a baby. But it’s not mine. It’s dad’s. A boy, just six months old. He’s our little brother. His name is Riku.”

Pacing around and rubbing her face, the phone squeezed between her shoulder and cheek, Yamane groans. “Well, he finally got the damn son he wanted. So father is having an affair after all. I fucking knew it!” Yamane curses, pacing around.

With frustration, she kicks the metal trash can next to the kitchen counter. “Mom didn’t even need to hire that private investigator. I stalked father and that girl for months, and the first time I brought it up, mom gave me a beating for ‘daring to speak that way about my father’. Fucking waste of money confirming what we already knew.”

On the other side of the line, Mai chokes and sobs. “Hey, sis, can you take me with you?” Mai asks with a tremor to her voice, desperate to change the topic.

At that point, Yamane can feel the headache settling in. “Mai, please, not this again. We’ve talked about this before. You’re safe where you are, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Use our parents’ resources to get ahead, then cut them off when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I’m safe, but I’m not free, like you. Poor Riku’s life is probably going to get micromanaged by father too. I don’t want to wait anymore. You know, I think I’d rather be working like you instead of being here. It must be nice, being free from my obligations as a daughter and a sister,” Mai huffed and sniffled.

Hand curling into a fist, Yamane does her best to stay calm despite the hostile shift in Mai’s words. “Cut that shit out, Mai. I already had a lecture on how I’m a terrible daughter from mom and father. I don’t need a lecture from you about how fucked up I am, I already know that.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” Mai defends herself. “I just mean… I can’t take it anymore, oneechan. I’m at my limit.”

After a few tense moments, Yamane speaks again.

“I’m sorry Mai. I should be there, protecting you from father, but I chose to run after my pipe dream of going into fashion design,” Yamane continues, pulling the refrigerator door open to fetch a can of beer. She squeezes the phone between her cheek and shoulder again to open it, and she takes a long swig of the bitter beverage.

“I just miss you so much. Having you around made life a little easier. You were always there to defend me.”

Eyes blank and lips stained by beer, Yamane holds back the tears, opting to clear her throat. “I miss you too.”

Mai chuckles. “Hey, don’t forget about me once your clothes are on the cover of Vogue and Nylon, okay?”

Bitterly, brokenly, Yamane laughs. What a cruel joke it was, the punchline being her wages barely covering her expenses, and the fact that her savings are almost non-existent. At that rate, fashion design school seemed like something she’ll never set foot in. Not that she’d fit in there too; street fashion had always been her thing, not haute couture.

The bitter reality of her situation made Yamane give up on her own dreams long ago, but it seems Mai never gave up on her.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll come snatch you away from father.”

“Hey, maybe I could model your designs for you. You could model them yourself too.”

“Mai, my asscheeks are too fat for me to model anything.”

Laughter echoed in Yamane’s apartment that night. That was the last call she ever had with her little sister, and now that she’s in this world full of death games, it’s almost guaranteed that she’ll never hear her voice again.

The thoughts dissolved away piece by piece as the car halted. The bass was more intense than ever. Niragi and Saiko step out of the car, and Last Boss follows suit. Saiko begrudgingly opens the door for Yamane, and as Yamane ducked to get out of the car, the taller woman clamps an arm on her good shoulder. “You better watch your back, mouse girl.”

“Is that a threat?” Yamane asks, looking her in the eye.

“Advice. This place looks like paradise, but there are serpents crawling about.”

Exhaling sharply, Yamane scoffs, and they follow the two men inside the resort. The mouse’s eyes widened at what she saw. People are drinking, partying, and fucking under the sun, and it’s not even noon. People were clinking drinks together. A naked couple walks right past them and Yamane feels her face flush.

Without warning, Last Boss kicks a speaker over, abruptly stopping the music, and Niragi shouts at the crowd.

The sea of people parted as they made their way through, onlookers wary of the armed men. Seeing how the crowd reacted with fear at their arrival made Yamane’s pulse race. These men had to be dangerous for them to draw that kind of reaction, and she is getting involved. Instinctively, Yamane wraps her arms around herself.

“Stop acting like a damn wimp,” Saiko berates her, and Yamane snaps out of it, straightening her back and walking a little more taller.

“I’ll speak to the chief for now. Get her to the Hatter,” Niragi instructs.

“Hatter?”

Then, Niragi turns to Yamane, grabs her face, and gives her a parting lick.

“You need to fucking stop that,” Yamane hisses, though her body still trembles with fear. “At least ask for some damn permission.” Niragi responded by tugging at her bad arm, and the mouse couldn’t stop the soft hiss of pain from escaping through her teeth.

“The righteous and moral have no place here, where human nature reigns. You best learn it as soon as possible if you want to last here, mousy. I can fucking drag you to my room and take you as I please if I wanted to,” he sneers in Yamane’s ear, dragging that damned tongue on the sensitive skin of her neck.

The little dormouse found herself shuddering at the contact and she hated it.

Sure, he looks good, but he’s a bastard. Yamane’s hand curls into a fist, and she looks at the other two. Saiko is smirking, the look in her face telling Yamane that she’s amused by his discomfort. On the other hand, Last Boss just stares again, mouth twitching at the corner.

To Yamane’s shock, his arm shoots out from his side, and grabs her by the elbow. His grip was strong but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and he had the decency not to go for the injured arm.

“She’s your problem now,” Saiko says nonchalantly, and walks away. Grinning, Niragi looks at his companion and walks away, rifle slung over his shoulder.

People in the hallways stayed close to the walls, whispering amongst each other as Last Boss dragged Yamane inside the building, whose legs were having trouble keeping up with his strides.

“Move, he’s one of the militants,” one of the residents whispered to another.

“Who’s he with? Someone new?”

“Probably the military sect’s fresh meat. Or a toy.”

Mouth dry, Yamane gulps at the comments. She looks up to the man holding her by the elbow, her mind racing, wondering if he’s anything like Niragi, or if he’d force himself upon her like Niragi had threatened to do.

One thing was certain, however. Yamane preferred his silence to Niragi’s loud mouth. Silence isn’t a thing she had the luxury of enjoying in her previous life.

And speaking of her previous life, it’s probably something she should stop thinking about now. Yamane needs to worry about what’s happening now. Surviving both death games and life in this “Beach” needed to be her top priority. Getting her shoulder treated is the first step, and somehow, Yamane is thankful they brought her here.

Last Boss brings her into a large room, where several people have gathered, pushing her down a chair. A man with shoulder-length hair and facial hair stands at the end of the table, grinning.

“What’s this? Another addition to our lovely paradise! Welcome to the Beach,” he announces, pacing around with his arms wide open. “I’ve heard good things about you, girl. Helping our military sect members clear a Seven of Clubs game? Quite an impressive feat for a newcomer. Who are you?”

“Minami Yamane.” She pauses. “You must be the Hatter.”

“I am indeed. And I,” he pauses, pointing to his tag, “am the number one player in the Beach.”

Yamane takes note of the tags on the Beach members’ wrists, and for the first time, sees the numbers on them. Her eyes then flick towards Last Boss’ tag. Number eight.

“What do these ranks mean? Are there benefits to them?” Yamane asks him.

“These ranks,” Hatter starts, circling Yamane, “are the order of who gets to return to the original world. I have heard from a reliable source that collecting all playing cards would grant one player the ability to go back. Then, when another set of cards are completed, the next person shall follow them.”

The red curtains in the middle of the room parts, revealing a tally of the cards the Beach has collected.

“Those who can clear more games and contribute more cards have higher ranks, and are closer to leaving this country. For helping Niragi and Last Boss clear a Seven of Clubs, we’ll consider moving your rank up higher.”

“That’ll take forever,” Yamane comments, earning her an amused grin from the number one player.

“Which is why this utopia is created so that players can combine their efforts until there are none left on the Beach,” Hatter explains, triumphantly shaking a fist. Yamane shakes her head.

”I guess it can’t be helped. Is it safe to assume that I am allowed to visit the Beach as long as I keep contributing cards?”

Hatter laughs, striding towards her. “Smart girl. You’re already figuring out how things work here. But you got one thing wrong: you’re not just a visitor. You’re a member now. And membership comes with its rules.”

The doors swing open, revealing Niragi, a few more militants, and a man who is leading them. Judging from his looks, Yamane thought he might be in law enforcement, or even the SDF.

“Ah, Aguni. You’re late,” Hatter groans. The bald man grunts and takes a seat at the table.

“I had matters to attend to,” replied Aguni, terse, gruff. Yamane couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“Sure you do,” Hatter replies, chuckling. “You’re just in time. I was about to explain the rules to the newcomer your underlings brought us.”

“The military sect’s chief,” Yamane mumbles, and Niragi steps closer to smirk at her face. “You’re figuring that out just now?” he asks, mockery dripping from his voice, and he attempts to lick Yamane’s face again. This time, she dodges, giving Niragi a glare.

“Ah, ah, as number one, I am obligated to maintain order. Niragi, back off from the little lady. We’re digressing from our purpose of being here!”

Niragi gives Hatter a dirty look and steps away from her.

“Yamane, listen closely. Rule number one, always wear a swimsuit.”

Yamane gave the leader of the Beach a bewildered look. “Huh?”

“Can’t hide weapons in a swimsuit now, can’t you? But of course, if Aguni accepts you as a member of the militants, you’ll be allowed to carry one. Isn’t that right?”

Aguni doesn’t speak, only offering him a grunt. Hatter then walks towards the windows, sunlight streaming through the curtains. “Rule number two. Be free to live your life exactly as you wish. Hell, you can drink, do drugs, have sex as much as you want!”

The prospect piqued Yamane’s interest. Freedom to live her life as she wished was something she didn’t get to enjoy in the real world.

“I accept the rules,” she declares, earning her a chuckle from a few of the members.

“Ah, but you’re getting ahead of yourself, dear Yamane. There’s a third rule. Remember what I said about you being a member of the Beach now? Membership is for life. And if you should choose to run away, hide a card from the Beach, or refuse to surrender a card to the Beach? Well…”

Last Boss gets behind Yamane’s chair, and he tilts Yamane’s head with one hand, while angling the sword under her chin with another. Yamane gulps, looking at the sharp blade that’s mere inches from her neck, and goosebumps are forming on her skin from the tattooed man’s cold fingers.

“Rule number 3. Death to traitors.”

Yamane looks up to Last Boss, then her eyes flick towards Niragi, her body trembling in indignation. “You. You two brought me here so I’ll never escape your sights,” she seethes.

“What are you talking about?” Niragi asks her, feigning innocence. “We lost a man in that club game, and we needed a replacement, remember? But I guess, now that you’re never allowed to leave, why don’t we have some fun while we’re all here?”

Refusing to give Niragi any more attention, Yamane turns to the Hatter. “I take it back. I refuse to stay here.”

“You can’t refuse the Beach now. Besides, you have an injury. Only we can help you. We have doctors, we have specialists who maintain the plumbing and electricity, and we have enough rooms. You’ll have food, medicine, and comfort here.”

Grinning, Niragi comes closer again, crouching to look the mouse in the eye. “You should be thanking us, mousy.”

Sighing, Yamane relents. “Fine.”

The Hatter smiles. Another soul is successfully lured to this “paradise”.

As the meeting adjourned, Aguni approaches Yamane, sizing her up.

“Niragi. This one better not disappoint,” he grunts. “Last Boss, get her to the clinic. She’ll be a liability with her injuries.”

At the order, Last Boss grabs Yamane by the elbow again and they set off. Yamane looks back to Niragi, then to Aguni, and proceeds to do her best to catch up with the tall, tattooed man’s strides once more.

Upon their arrival at the makeshift clinic, the bustle of the clinic fell into a hush. Patients and medics alike stop to gawk at the militant dragging a young woman inside.

He says nothing and waits by the door. A doctor wearing a red one piece swimsuit underneath a coat approaches Yamane carefully.

“How can I help you?”

“I have a dislocated shoulder,” Yamane mutters. “I need it treated so it won’t hinder my future games.”

“I’m Doctor Lilian Sunohara,” the doctor introduces herself. “If you ever get hurt in one of the games, you can come here to get yourself patched up.” Cautiously, nervously, Sunohara approaches Yamane and begins to administer her care, starting with setting her bones.

After applying a sling, Dr. Sunohara stands up and fetches a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet. Yamane couldn’t help but gawk at the stockpile of medicine. “I haven’t seen you around before,” said the doctor, voice low.

“Him and another man called Niragi brought me here,” Yamane explains. The look of concern in Sunohara’s face and the cautious look from the other patients says it all.

That’s when it finally sinks in; Yamane’s aware that she’s associated with the militants now, and people are avoiding her like the plague.

[gotemsayingw0w]

Kyoru Week Day 5

Prompt: Precious @kyoruweekofficial

It had been bothering him all day. A nagging, itchy feeling on his left shoulder. Innocuous enough that it wasn’t debilitating, but annoying enough that it was starting to really piss him off. So much so, that the second he got home from work, he ripped the top of his karategi off, searching for the culprit of his discomfort. 

Kyo Sohma considered himself a simple man. He never really cared for fashion, instead choosing loose, comfortable clothing that was easy to move around in. It was why he could pack every single item of clothing he owned in a single duffel bag if he really wanted to. It was why he could go for a several mile run in every single item of clothing he owned if he really needed to. It was why, despite teasing from his cousins, friends, and his girlfriend, he kept around clothes that others deemed “hideous.” They were comfortable, dammit. 

He hated tight clothes. He hated accessories. When he first began living with Shishou, he hated wearing his gi with his belt. He hated any type of rough, scratchy fabric. As he began running his fingers over the black fabric of his gi, searching for a loose thread or piece of lint that was irritating him, he got even more pissed off because this gi was perfectly worn in. If it was irreparably ruined he’d have to buy a new one and those took months to get to the loose, flexible uniform that Kyo deemed acceptable for work.

His fingers brushed over a small, raised bump and he grinned, triumphant that he wasn’t wrong, there was something off. There, among the stiff black cotton, was a series of tiny stitches, appearing to be in the shape of a heart.

“What the hell…” he whispered, bringing the cloth directly under the light of the flashlight on his phone. Sure enough, covering a small hole he didn’t remember having in this gi, there was an embroidered heart. He pinched the fabric between his fingers to confirm that this tiny patch was what had been bothering him all day.

He was certain it was the work of Tohru, his girlfriend. He couldn’t possibly think of another person besides the two of them who handled their dirty laundry and he definitely was not going to be the one to sew a heart over the hole let alone even notice it. 

He walked into the single bedroom in their apartment, still holding the gi in his hand, running through his mind the various articles of clothing he had that had gathered small holes over the years. He never minded tiny little punctures in the sleeves or collars of his shirts or the weathered fabric in the knees of his pants. If something became too ratty, he’d always just thrown it away. But for some reason, the tiny patch on his gi connected something in his mind. He’d never held onto clothes this long before he knew Tohru. 

Sure enough, he pulled item after item out of their shared wardrobe that had small little patches sewing up holes in his clothes. Most of them were simple, almost inscrutable. Places where seams had torn and been re-stitched with care and precision, but certainly not the factory-made stitches that came with the clothes. On other pieces of his clothing, however, there were the same tiny patches. 

A pair of jeans with a tiny hole on the thigh had a tiny square sewn around it, the thread the same color as the denim. One of his favorite red hoodies that had garnered a small hole in the sleeve, had an embroidered triangle. His yellow v-neck that hardly fit anymore, but stayed in his wardrobe out of protest (he really didn’t think it was that ugly) had a tiny sun stitched around a hole in the hem. A pair of his most comfortable boxers had a tiny, orange cat sewn in the seat.

Quickly, a pile of mended clothes ended up at his feet until all that was left in his wardrobe were four white undershirts, a dearth of rarely-worn pants, and some of his less-preferred socks and underwear. Scattered around the floor were all of his most favorite, most comfortable clothing, somehow altered in an attempt to preserve their life.

The sound of a key turning in the door caught his attention and he listened as she called out in a sing-song tone, “I’m home!” The sound of rustling grocery bags, cabinets opening and closing, and water running from the sink brought him back down to Earth and, as Tohru’s footsteps neared their bedroom, he felt a blush creep to his cheeks. 

“I didn’t realize you would beat me home!” She said as she walked down the hallway towards the door. “Did you have...an early…” her voice trailed off as she entered the room. She scanned the floor and the bed, no doubt trying to process exactly what he was doing. 

“Hi,” Kyo said, holding an unscathed white undershirt in his hand as if he’d been caught committing a crime. 

“Hi,” Tohru breathed in response. She didn’t ask a question, but the curiosity in her eyes indicated she would like to know the answer.

“My gi had a hole in it,” Kyo answered.

She frowned. “Another one?” She carefully stepped over the pile of clothes on the floor to grab the top off of the bed. Holding the garment up to inspect it, she asked “Where?”

Kyo shook his head. “Had,” he emphasized.

Tohru nodded. “The one in the shoulder? Yeah, I noticed it a few nights ago. Is it holding up okay?”

“Did you fix it?”

“Of course!”

“When?”

“Last night when I couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

“Did you fix all of these?”

Tohru blinked, confused by the line of questioning. She nodded. Of course she had mended them. Who else would have? “Are you upset that I fixed them?” She asked. Her face remained neutral, but the slight wavering in her voice displayed her nerves.

Kyo’s initial response was automatic. “N-no, I’m not…” he lowered the white undershirt back into the dresser. “I just didn’t…” he couldn’t finish the thought.

Was he upset that she fixed them? No. Actually, he was rather touched by the gesture. She knew how much he valued comfort and how well-loved his clothes were that she went out her way to preserve them. It was, at its core, the most kind gesture. The purest display of love that could possibly exist. Of course he wasn’t upset that she fixed them, no. The emotion was much more complicated than that.

It was the same feeling he had when she’d confessed to him two years prior, albeit on a much smaller scale. It was such a clear, irrefutable declaration of love that he was not expecting. He had spent so much of his life feeling not only undeserving of love, but turned off to the idea completely. He wasn’t the kind of person who could be loved. He didn’t deserve it. He was a terrible person, a monster. Whenever someone close to him tried to offer him love, he immediately became defensive.

That feeling, the feeling of being undeserving, had gotten better since he had met Tohru and especially since they had moved away together nearly a year ago. But it crept in occasionally. He was still plagued by negative thoughts sometimes. That small voice inside his head piped up every so often to tell him he didn’t deserve any of this. However, in her actions and with her words, she reminded him every day you do deserve this. She didn’t have to say it verbatim; it was evident in all that she did for him.

He wasn’t upset, he was disarmed. There he had been, minding his own business, when the reminder of just how much she loved him and cared for him slapped him across the face. He needn’t ask the question why, especially because he knew the answer. But knowing the answer didn’t make the display any less surprising. 

Tohru carefully side-stepped the piles of clothes, moving lightly on her tiptoes towards him, and wrapped her arms around his middle. He, in turn, wrapped his around her shoulders and brushed her hair with his lips. He couldn’t help it, he asked the question anyway.

“Why did you fix my gi?”

She pressed her chin against his chest, looking up at him with her wide, earnest eyes. “Because it’s your favorite one.” She answered simply, as if it had been obvious the whole time.

“I never said that,” he responded and she smiled at him.

“It was pretty obvious,” she mused. He raised his eyebrows waiting for her to continue. “You always reach for that one first,” she explained. “It’s certainly the softest and most broken in. Plus, it was a gift from Kunimitsu-san before our move. It’s special to you.”

And there it was. She was right, it was his favorite. It was the most comfortable. He didn’t attribute much to the fact that it was a gift, but her logic was sound.  He was disarmed because, without saying a word, she told him ‘I get it. You love this. And because you love it and I love you, it’s precious to me. I’ll preserve it for you.’

She’d never have to speak the words ‘I love you’ if she didn’t want to. She said it to him in her gestures alone. She saw who he was at his core, appreciated it, and nurtured it so that it wouldn’t change. And as she did so, she reminded him you deserve this.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tucking a hand under her chin and tilting her head to meet her lips softly with his own. She beamed at him.

She returned her head to his chest, pressing her cheek against him until she could hear his heartbeat. “It’s a mess in here.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I had to come in here and see what other girly patches you put all over my stuff.” 

She pinched his back. “They’re not girly,” she insisted. “Besides, if you really never noticed until today that I’ve been fixing your clothes for four years, then you should be a little embarrassed,” she teased back.

“Lucky for you, your careful craftsmanship has made it so I never noticed.” He stepped back, retrieving the gi top from the bed and held it out for her. “But you’ve gotten sloppy. Damn heart was bothering me all day.”

She pinched the heart between her fingers, confirming that it was a bit more pronounced than some of her other patches. “You’re right,” she nodded, her face taking on a grave (although clearly exaggerated) expression. “Certainly a manly patch would not be so itchy.”

“Exactly,” he confirmed. He reached down and gathered the pile of clothes in his arms, sitting on the bed with them so he could refold them and put them away. 

She planted a kiss on the top of his head before she turned to leave. “I’ll go make a very manly dinner to make up for it,” she said, grinning, and he rolled his eyes. 

*  *  *

The following morning, he left for work, his bag already packed with his other favorite karategi and lunch he’d prepared the night before. He changed at the dojo, and, when met with the sound of snickers, quirked his eyebrows at the teen class before him.

“Nice heart, shihan,” one of the girls said, her palm covering her mouth.

Kyo craned his neck to look at his shoulder in the mirror and, sure enough, he was wearing the gi from yesterday, no doubt slipped into his bag by Tohru when he wasn’t looking. There, on his shoulder, was the hole with a new patch covering it. A small, pink heart in contrast with the black cotton. 

He shook his head, the smile on his face betraying the annoyance he was trying to convey. “God dammit.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Won’t You Stay A While? - fic

Characters: Ric Grayson, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake Summary: Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. A/N: I kind of imagine Damian puked in the bathroom. Tim and Damian don’t speak on the way home, but him, Cass and Jason kind of become helicopter parents to him, especially after Tim tells Jason and Cass what Ric’s last words to them were. Inspired by ‘Hold Me While You Wait’ by Lewis Capaldi. Very Damian and amnesiac Dick song, it hurts my heart a lot.

~~

The bar’s bell chimed as the door opened, followed by: “Yo, Ric!”

Ric reluctantly took his eyes off Bea, looking towards the man at the door. A regular, who Ric often found himself playing barside therapist for.

“Hey, Lenny.”

“Your cab out front?”

“Know another cabbie who frequents this bar?”

Lenny snorted a raspy laugh. “Well, there’s a kid sittin’ on the hood. Told him to beat it, and he told me to shove it up my ass. Then he settled in like he owned the car himself. So, you may have a problem on your hands.”

Ric sighed. “Great. Did he say who he was?”

“I didn’t ask, and he wasn’t very forthcoming with the conversation.” Lenny shrugged. He clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder as he passed, making a bee-line for the bathroom. “Looked like one of the local street rats, but I sensed a lil’ Gotham accent there, so good luck with that headache.”

A local gang member, even better. Ric groaned and pushed back from the bar, giving Bea a wave and already defeated smile as he backed towards the door.

He shoved at the door with his back and zipped up his jacket as he spun towards the road. The kid was easy to spot, all dark clothes against the bright yellow of the cab. His knees were curled to his chest, and the hood up over his head, shadowing his face.

“Hey, kid!”

The boy looked up, and Ric froze midstep.

Aw hell.

He’d have preferred the gang member.

Instead, it was the Wayne kid. Damian. One of the ones there when he woke up from his coma. One of the ones he couldn’t remember for the life of him.

“Damian?” He murmured as he approached, both to call the kid and ask himself if that was truly his name. Damian just stared at him, dark, near unnatural circles under his eyes, face set in a fierce frown. “What are you doing here?”

And he remembered the kid being haughty and confident. Snotty, practically. But here…here, he looked lost, exhausted. Sick, almost.

“I…” Damian murmured. He looked past Ric and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I don’t know.”

“Does Wayne know you’re here?”

“No.” Damian said shortly. “And if he does, he doesn’t care.”

Ric didn’t know what that meant. Sensed it was a can of worms that he did not want to open.

“…Is there someone I can call to come get you? Take you home?”

Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

Ric found himself closing his eyes and sighing. From his brief time with the Wayne family since waking up, he remembered this kid was…weird. Distant. Difficult.

“…Well, then, are you hungry?” Ric asked. “Maybe some food’ll make you feel better.”

“What makes you think I feel bad?”

“Come on.” Ric scoffed. “Came all the way down to Bludhaven to sit on some guy’s cab because you’re having a fantastic day?”

Damian smirked a little at the sarcasm.

“Listen. I know a cool little café down the street. Great gelato milkshakes.” Ric tried. Damian wouldn’t make eye contact. Just remained curled up on himself. Ric huffed and grabbed Damian’s wrist, unwinding it and giving it a gentle pull. “You just gotta try it. Cheer you right up.”

To Ric’s surprise, Damian slid off the car easily, and immediately fell into step with him down the sidewalk. Ric found himself smiling as he led the way.

As they walked, despite his attitude on the car, he found Damian continually sneaking peaks at him, but then shyly looking away if he thought Ric was looking back.

“The scar’s pretty ugly, huh?” Ric asked.

“I have worse.” Damian countered. Then quieter, “You helped sew a few up, actually.”

“Gross.” Ric stuck his tongue out dramatically. “Where’d you get them?”

“On the streets.” Damian answered slyly, like Ric was supposed to understand what that meant. He held his hand out. “Though this one on my thumb was from when you were trying to teach me how to make apple dumplings. You forgot to tell me how to hold the fruit when I was cutting it, and I almost sliced my thumb off. Alfred banned you from the kitchen then.”

“…Huh.” Ric thought out loud. His stomach swirled in discomfort. Something that, if he thought about it, felt a little bit like jealousy. Maybe. He pointed up the street, to the café’s sign. “Sounds equal parts hilarious and almost traumatizing.”

Damian openly stared at him now. Then sighed and looked at his feet. “…Yeah.”

At the café, a waitress waved at them to pick a booth themselves, and that she’d be with them in a moment. Ric veered towards a nearby table and Damian followed, sitting across from him silently.

“…So…” Ric hummed, bouncing his fingers off each other. “What’d you say you came down here for again?”

“I didn’t.” Damian replied simply. He didn’t offer anything else.

“Then…what brings you to town?” Ric asked. “I mean…gotta be something.”

Damian said nothing. Seemed to just sink further into his black hoodie.

“You and your dad fight?”

Nothing.

“…You and the old butler guy fight?”

Damian just blinked at his fork.

“Something to do with your…you know, night life?”

Damian just stared at the table.

“Look, dammit…!” Ric suddenly slammed a fist on the table. Damian jumped, and the waitress who had yet to serve them looked up from the cash register. Ric pursed his lips and leaned forward to whisper. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here, okay? Can’t you give me anything? I mean, you know I don’t want to…”

Ric didn’t finish the thought. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with you or your family.

By the look on Damian’s face, he probably didn’t need to anyway.

Damian just watched him. In his flinch at Ric’s outburst, his hood had fallen from his head. Those circles under his eyes looked so much darker in the open sunlight. His skin so much paler. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in ages, or eaten. And those scars he’d mentioned, Ric could see a few poking out of the neck of the hoodie.

He did not look well.

“I thought…” Damian breathed, then blinked and shook his head, seemingly berating himself.

“You thought what?” Ric asked. Damian shook his head again, leaning back in the booth and looking out the window. “You thought what, Damian?”

Damian kept his mouth shut, though seemed to suddenly be blinking heavily.

“Look if you don’t tell me what’s going on, or why you’re here, I…” Ric sighed, leaned back himself. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Damian closed his eyes at that.

And he remained silent, even when the waitress finally came over. She seemed cautious, and Ric supposed he didn’t blame her, not after he punched the table for no reason. He gave her his best smile anyway, ordering gelato milkshakes for the both of them. She wrote the order on her pad, sparing Damian a glance before spinning away.

Ric was still watching her walk away when he heard a quiet: “…I thought you would remember.”

He looked back at Damian. He’d opened his eyes now, and they were misty, ready to overflow.

“What?”

“It’s been weeks since you woke up. I know Father was pushy and you ran from that. I get it. I get that.” Damian tried. His voice was shaking, and he was trying so hard to control it. “But I thought enough time had passed.”

There was the sound of a buzz, and Damian shifted, pulling out a cell phone. He glanced at the message, but scoffed and placed the phone face down on the table between them.

“…I thought if I came here, if you saw me, I could help you trigger a memory or something. Anything.” Damian breathed. The tears overflowed instantly. “But I’m not enough. I’m not good enough. Again.”

“Damian-”

“After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t do this one single fucking thing for you!” Damian shrieked. The waitress looked up again from the counter. Other customers glanced up too. “I can’t…”

Damian fell into a coughing fit, he was crying so hard.

“…You were the only one who ever cared about me, and I can’t bring you back.” Damian cried. “I can’t bring Dick Grayson back and I don’t…I don’t know if that means you never actually cared about me in the first place or if I’m just more worthless than I thought.”

Ric glanced at the others in the café, everyone blatantly staring now.

“Damian, look…” But Damian was already shaking his head.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Suddenly he was scooting out of the booth. “Forget it.”

“No, you’re okay, it’s-”

But Damian was already running across the restaurant towards the bathroom. The slam and lock of the bathroom door echoed through the silent dining room, and Ric looked out the window, instead at all the patrons now silently judging him.

After a moment, Ric sighed, and reached across the table for Damian’s forgotten phone. He clicked the screen on, and read the message that had been left.

From someone named Todd, reading: Where the fuck are you kid????

Ric waited a moment, to see if that name rang a bell. When it didn’t, he sighed and press the call button.

~~

Damian came out of the bathroom forty-five minutes later, and found the booth he’d been sitting in empty.

Not surprising, he thought. He wouldn’t want to stick around and wait for himself either.

But then the waitress appeared next to him, holding out a Styrofoam cup. “Your friend is outside.” She whispered sweetly. “He had me put your drink in the fridge for you for whenever you’re ready.”

Damian nodded his thanks and took the cup. The woman smiled and pointed towards the window, where Ric could be seen sitting on the curb outside. Damian swallowed the lump in his throat and moved towards the door.

He sat down next to Ric silently, staring intensely at the straw poking out of the cup. Ric was bent between his knees, fiddling with the shoestrings on his boots.

“I wasn’t lying – their shakes are the best in town. Even a boring flavor like vanilla.” Ric hummed almost jovially. Damian nodded, absently rocking the cup back and forth, feeling the weight of it shift between his fingers, the chill escaping into his fingers.

After another moment, Ric sat back up and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at Damian, then shifted, digging in his pocket, and pulling out the cell phone.

“You left this on the table.” Ric said. “I…I called that Todd guy, who texted you.”

Damian pursed his lips as he took the phone back. “What did he say?”

“Well, he didn’t sound thrilled to hear me. Or to hear this is where you were.” Ric answered with a wince. He glanced at his watch. “He should be here in about an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Damian responded monotonously. “You can go, if you want. No need to be late for your next shift on my account.”

“I don’t work today.” Ric countered just as blandly. “Also – I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You already did once. What’s once more?” Damian drawled bitterly. Ric didn’t respond to it, knowing Damian meant the amnesia. His decision to leave Gotham and cut Bruce Wayne and his associates out of his life. For exactly what he didn’t say inside the café. But to his surprise, Damian frowned almost instantly. “I’m…I’m sorry. That was rude. I know…none of this is your fault.”

“…I’m sorry your brother’s gone, Damian.” Ric looked to the sky. “I’m sorry I can’t…be who you need me to be.”

“No one ever is.” Damian exhaled. He finally shoved the straw in his mouth. “Not even Dick Grayson was, in some ways. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

The statement left a bad taste in Ric’s mouth. “Regardless – I’m not leaving you here by yourself. You’re what, ten?”

“Thirteen.”

“Close enough.” Ric shrugged. “I’m waiting here with you until your ride gets here. And that’s final.”

“Whatever you say.” Damian shrugged. He slurped on his straw, and hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right, this is good.”

“Told you.”

Damian didn’t answer that. Took a few more sips of the drink. Smacked his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry I came here.”

A car was passing right as he said it, and Ric almost missed it. He had a feeling that was the point. He looked down at him, and once again, Damian wouldn’t meet his eye.

“…I’m not.” He decided. Without warning, he threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “I don’t know what our relationship was before but…it was nice to meet you. Again. Officially. You seem like a pretty cool kid.”

Damian immediately stiffened in the hold, but didn’t pull away, and he struck Ric as one to do so if he wished to.

“…Is this okay?”

Damian thought a moment, and then just as suddenly – he relaxed into the hold, and even leaned his head on Ric’s shoulder.

“…Yeah.” Damian’s voice was already trembling. After a second, Ric saw a tear drip onto the lid of the milkshake. “This is fine.”

“Okay. Just tell me if it’s not.” Ric murmured, running his arm along Damian’s shoulder. After a moment, in an attempt to give Damian a semblance of privacy, he gently lifted his hood back over his head. The boy gasped a sob in the mockery of a thanks.

“…I miss you.” Damian wailed after a moment. Softly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it, let alone think it. “I miss you so much.”

All Ric could say was, “I know.” And “I’m sorry, kid.”

Damian said nothing else for the rest of the hour they waited, so Ric didn’t either. Just watched the cars as they drove by, waiting for anyone who looked like the contact picture that popped up when he called the one named Todd. Rubbed Damian’s shoulder every so often to offer some comfort.

Damian just tried to calm down enough to drink his milkshake.

Eventually, a car pulled up on the other side of the street, and a teenager who couldn’t have been much older than Damian got out. It wasn’t Todd for sure, but Damian sat up at the sight of him anyway. As the teen crossed the street towards him, he seemed to be hit with a wave of relief.

“There you are.” The teenager breathed as Damian stood.

“Why’d he send you?” Damian snapped, but there didn’t appear to be any malice behind it. He also didn’t seem that annoyed when the other wrapped him in a quick hug.

“Because it was literally taking the rest of them – Goliath and Titus included – to stop Bruce from coming down here himself to get you and check on…” The boy trailed off and glanced at Ric, still sitting on the curb. “…Thanks for watching out for him, Mr. Grayson.”

“My pleasure. Kind of.” He gave an awkward smile. “…Did I know you?”

The boy looked sad, and Ric frowned at the look. He was so, so tired of that look.

“You did.” But that’s all he offered. “Name’s Tim.”

“Tim.” Ric repeated. It didn’t register. “You’re not the one I called.”

“No, Jason’s our older brother.” Tim gave as an explanation. He paused for a moment and glanced at Damian. “You have him in your phone as Todd, right?”

Damian nodded.

“Right, yeah. He was…busy. So I came instead.” Tim tried. “Do you want picture proof that I’m not here kidnapping him or something…?”

“No, no. I have a feeling Damian wouldn’t be standing here if you were.” Ric stood himself, shoved his hands in his pockets. “So…I guess we’re good.”

“Guess so. Thanks again.” Tim instantly whirled Damian around towards the car. “Take care, Mr. Grayson. And I know Bruce always said it to you before but…if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Ric nodded silently, and gave Damian a quick wave. Damian didn’t return it. In fact, since Tim arrived, Damian had not even looked at him.

When they were just hitting the yellow line separating the lanes, Ric called, “Damian?”

Damian glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and red.

“You’re not worthless. So don’t let anyone make you think you are, okay? Not even me.” He smiled softly. “And get some sleep or something.”

Both Ric and Tim waited for Damian to give a response, but when he didn’t, Tim just turned him back towards the car, a far too fancy looking thing. As they reached the other side of the street, Ric listened as Tim carefully whispered, “Are you okay…?”

Damian shook his head. Tried to rub nonchalantly at his eyes.

Ric turned and started walking back to the bar before they even got in the car.

[when-they-write-stuff]

Can you do 88: put me down I can walk? (I think that’s the number, at least) please and thank you :)

The thing was, Stiles didn’t actually get hurt.

Okay, he did. A little. There was a witch and flying balls of energy and before Stiles could even attempt to take her out with his baseball bat, he was being blasted into the nearest tree, a giant smoldering hole in his favorite red sweatshirt.

Faintly, he heard Scott shout his name, Derek roar in anger, and then the chaos died down. Stiles’s stomach clenched and he didn’t even have to look over to know what happened.

He saw it on Derek’s claws as the man moved over, face pale and panic in his eyes.

Scott reached him first.

“Stiles! Stiles, dude, are you okay? Oh shit, that’s blood. Stiles, are you bleeding?”

“No, Scotty,” Stiles said, shifting with a groan. He didn’t want to look down but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good. Not fatal, probably, but definitely bad enough to get a lecture from his dad. And maybe be grounded for the rest of his life. There was a thin line between those two things. “I’m just oozing out awesomeness. Hey, is the rest of the world spinning, or is it just me?”

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Derek said, leaning down. Before Stiles even had a chance to argue, the man was picking him up bridal style and starting toward where they had parked the cars. Stiles still made a loud noise of protest and twisted a little, until the pain made him groan and slump back into Derek’s arms. 

“No, Derek, no hospital.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m mildly injured,” Stiles said, twisting again. This time, he bit back a noise of pain. “See, only a bit of blood! Put me down, I can walk.”

“I’m taking you to get help.”

“Derek,” Stiles said, trying to squirm free once more. None of the other betas were helping; Stiles wasn’t even sure any of them had followed. Angrily, he smacked at the man’s arm but that didn’t seem to do anything. “Derek! Put me down. I have a first aid kit at home and I can take care of myself, dammit—”

“Then we’ll go to your house.”

Stiles finally stopped moving. He peered up at Derek but the man didn’t even glance down at him. “What?”

“We’ll go to your house. But if I decide you need more than a first aid kit, you go to the hospital.”

Stiles considered that for a long moment. He supposed he could be dealt a worse hand. Because if Derek took him to the hospital then Melissa would be the one treating his injury, and Stiles’s dad was sure to get involved. 

And then he would be grounded for life. Probably.

Derek opened the door of his Camaro with one hand and carefully placed Stiles into the passenger side seat. Then he moved around the car and climbed in too, glancing over.

“Well?”

“Fine, but you don’t have to come,” Stiles said. “I can take care of myself.”

The man snorted and started the car. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“What about Roscoe?”

“I’ll take your keys and pick it up later.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t call Roscoe an it. Second of all, someone could steal her.”

“No one wants to steal your car,” Derek said. “Trust me.”

Stiles glared at him.

The rest of the drive to his house was silent. Stiles shifted and picked at his bloody sweatshirt until Derek growled at him to stop. After giving the man a glare, Stiles stared out the window instead, trying not to complain every time Derek hit a bump and it felt like Stiles was getting blasted into a tree again.

By the time they arrived at his house, he was feeling a little faint. His dad’s cruiser, thank goodness, was not in the driveway. 

Derek came around to the passenger side and looked like he was going to attempt picking Stiles up again. Glaring, Stiles batted his hands away and pulled himself out of the car. The world nearly tilted sideways as he did, but he was pretty sure Derek didn’t notice as Stiles fought to stay conscious and right-side-up.

Derek led him into the house. Stiles didn’t realize the man knew how to use a door.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Kitchen,” Stiles said sulkily. “Underneath the sink.”

“Go upstairs,” the man ordered. “And turn on a shower. I’ll be up in five.”

Stiles looked at him for a long moment before sighing and turning around, trudging up the stairs. He figured this would probably go back quicker if he just didn’t argue with Derek. Even though the man was going completely ‘momma wolf’’ right now.

Well, that was a disturbing thought he was never happening again.

Except, Stiles didn’t make it to the bathroom. He got one hand on the knob of the door before the world was spinning, his vision got blurry, and Stiles’s last thought was ‘oh shit’ before he was hitting the carpet hard.

He heard footsteps racing up the stairs in seconds.

“Dammit, Stiles!”

Stiles thought that was completely unfair, as Derek dropped to his side and for the second time that night, scooped him into his arms. Normally, Stiles would be silently admiring the way his arms flexed and looked unfairly sexy, but right now, he just felt light-headed and a little sick.

Derek shoved open his door and laid him on his bed. Stiles’s complaint about blood getting on his comforter died on his tongue as the man peeled away his sweatshirt, claws slicing it all the way off his chest.

Derek was totally buying him a new sweatshirt at some point.

“You’re still bleeding.”

“That’s usually what humans do.”

Derek gave him a flat look and Stiles tried to smirk but he really did hurt. Grunting, the man moved back and slipped out his phone. In less than five seconds, he was on the phone with Melissa and giving Stiles the stink eye. As if the fact that they were here and not the hospital was all his fault.

Well…

“I don’t know how to do stitches,” Derek suddenly said into the phone. Stiles’s blood went cold and he sat up a little more.

“Uh, stitches? I don’t need stitches! No stitches for me.”

Derek shot him another dark look before turning away completely, so Stiles could only look nervously at his back. The man said a few more things that Stiles didn’t catch and then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay, Melissa. Thank you.”

Stiles glared at him as the man turned back around. “You are not coming near me with a needle.”

“Melissa says it needs to be cleaned and stitched up.”

“I’m not a voodoo doll!” Stiles said, panic rising in his throat. “Or a blanket with holes. I do not need a needle poked into me, Derek!”

“Either you let me do it,” Derek said. “Or we go to the hospital and Melissa will have to call your father. She says it’s your choice.”

Stiles glared. That woman knew him too well. 

“My dad can’t know.”

“Then I’m doing it.”

“Do you even know how to use a needle?”

“I’ve sewed before.”

No, no way. There was no way Derek Hale, the grumpy Alpha of Beacon Hills had ever sewn shit in his life. Stiles refused to believe it. 

He didn’t realize he was staring, mouth agape, until Derek turned red and grabbed the first aid kit off of the desktop, moving over to the edge of the bed and sinking down at Stiles’s side. “My uncle’s fiancé liked to sew. She taught me.”

“... Peter had a fiancé?”

Derek looked a little sad. “Yes.”

So Derek knew how to sew, Peter had a fiancé, and Stiles was feeling like a mind blown idiot. He just stared at the man until Derek pulled a needle and surgical thread out of the kit and then Stiles was cringing into himself again.

“Derek, I don’t like needles.”

The man’s face softened. “Do you trust me?”

Stiles studied his face for a long moment. He could easily say ‘no’ or ‘never’ and to be honest, that would probably send Derek right away. But the thing was, that’d be a lie. Stiles knew that would be a lie. So silently, he nodded. Derek picked up a damp cloth and nodded toward the wound. 

“Then I’m going to clean that and stitch it up.”

“You must really hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Stiles,” the man said quietly. “Now sit still. If I have to knock you out to do this, I will.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, snorting. “I can tell you’re feeling quite in love.”

The man didn’t answer, eyes fixed on Stiles’s chest. Stiles was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat for some reason, but he’d totally blame it on the cold of the cloth as Derek pressed it against his skin. He hissed, although it didn’t really hurt, and tried not to think about how bad a needle was going to feel.

By the time the blood was gone, the cloth was stained pink, and Derek was moving on, Stiles still wasn’t ready.

“Okay, hold on, hold on,” he said, scrambling back across the bed. Derek gave him a warning look but Stiles still didn’t move. “Are you sure we can’t just put a bandaid on it and check back for infection later?”

“No, Stiles.”

“Please? We can’t even give that a try?”

Derek gave him a flat look and started forward. Squeaking, Stiles tumbled off the end of the bed and started toward the door but a hand caught his arm before he could escape. Derek all but dragged him back to the bed and Stiles squirmed the whole way, throat starting to close up as panic crashed over him

“Derek, don’t do this. I don’t like needles, Derek, I don’t like them!”

“I can tell.”

“Derek, Derek you big lump, get off of me!”

The man pinned him down with a raised eyebrow and continued to ignore all of Stiles’s pleas and complaints. As he threaded the string through the needle, Stiles panicked all over again. 

“Okay, okay, okay, I changed my mind. I want to go to the hospital! They have anesthetic there, Derek. At least knock me out first!”

“It won’t take that many stitches,” Derek said. “Just hold still.”

“Derek!”

Stiles was pretty sure he did pass out. Because when he snapped back to reality prepared to yell at Derek with a litany of curses again, the man was moving back. Stiles blinked a few times and glanced down to see a couple of neat stitches across his chest. He peered at them and then looked back up at Derek, staring.

“Dude, you can sew.”

“I can. And I thought you said you trusted me.”

Stiles felt his face turn hot. Slowly, he pushed himself up, wincing slightly. Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles only chuckled nervously. “I, uh, don’t like needles.”

“You mentioned that. More than once.”

“... Thanks, Sourwolf.”

Stiles could’ve sworn a smile tugged at his mouth as Derek nodded. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles ran a hand through his hair and glanced around. There was really nothing keeping Derek around anymore. The first aid kit was still open on the edge of his bed and there were a few spots of blood on the comforter. Stiles would have to clean that up later but that… that was his problem.

Derek seemed to notice that too, eyes flitting to the window. Apparently, the man just liked that more than the door or something.

“So, I could—”

“Dinner,” Stiles said, cutting him off. Derek’s eyes widened and he blushed. “I mean, we’ve been chasing that witch around all night and now… well, I’ve worked up an appetite. Do you want, uh, dinner?”

“Here?”

“I make some mean scrambled eggs, Sourwolf, if you’re okay with breakfast food.”

Derek’s eyes softened. Stiles was sure he did see a smile this time as the man nodded. Grinning, Stiles reached out, making grabby hands, and Derek’s smile ebbed away as he gave him a confused look. Stiles only smirked.

“Carry me downstairs, dude.”

“No.”

“But you’ve been carrying me everywhere else!”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then, sighing, he moved over and swept an arm underneath Stiles’s legs, hefting him off the bed. This time, Stiles was perfectly able to appreciate the muscles. He hummed happily and shifted around, catching what appeared to be Derek turning red.

 Grinning harder, Stiles shifted again. Derek growled.

“I’m going to drop you.”

“But that would kind of negate all the earlier care, would it not?”

“Try me.”

Stiles rolled his eyes but went still. Derek was definitely blushing. And Stiles was so totally using that later. But right now…

“I do trust you,” he said. “You know that right?”

Derek glanced down. “I know.”

“And you trust me.”

The man didn’t answer. But Stiles was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“You also don’t hate me.”

“Stiles—”

“Okay,” Stiles said, resting his head on the man’s shoulder. “Just… thanks, Derek. You know. For showing me your epic sewing skills.”

“You were passed out the entire time.”

“Semantics.”

Derek chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. Stiles smiled himself, brushing his thumb over his stitches. They made it downstairs and headed toward the kitchen— right as Stiles heard the sound of a doorknob twisting. He blinked in confusion for a second, Derek went stock-still, and then the front door opened.

They both froze. In the doorway, Stiles’s dad did too.

Silence fell over the room. The Sheriff’s eyes flitted from Derek, to Stiles held bridal style in his arms, to his bare chest and fresh stitches. Then he blinked and reached up, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“One day, Stiles. Just one day I’d like to come home to a surprise like pizza or take out. Just one day.”

Yeah, Stiles was so getting grounded for life.

- -

Okay, I had way too much fun with this prompt. Medical professionals everywhere are probably about to break down my doors, but it was worth it. Stiles and his fear of needles is everything.

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[frasier-crane-style]

Picard 2-3

-Mmmm. I’m torn between thinking some elements of this are really cliche--the incestuous bad guys, the roguish mercenary hiring out his ship, the dorky scientist, on and on--yet Trek has always been troperiffic to the point of being “Wagon Train to the stars” (or Horatio Hornblower in space, if you’d rather). So the same old cliches in a Star Trek setting is nothing new, maybe even preferable to some “we’re still relevant, dammit!” stuff going on (Starfleet officers in sunglasses, vaping). But also, like damn, these tropes are supposed to be spices, not the whole meal. 

-Maybe they should put all the character traits in a hat and mix them up a little. The smuggler is an awkward dork who’s a huge fan of Picard! The scientist is a grizzled badass who knocks back shots while sewing up a wound he got in a barfight. Could be fun.

-Not to take anything away from P-Stewart, but even he can’t sell the character shilling Rios gets as he first shows up. Oh, he might seem disillusioned, but he’s really a badass Starfleet hero waiting to happen? Gee, thanks, never could’ve figured that out on my own. I haven’t watched any movies since my parents think color television is the Devil.

-Although at least Rios is likable. Rafi is kinda... yeesh. How much of a fuck-up do you have to be to end up a druggie burn-out in a utopian, post-scarcity society? She’s not even on a colony world, she’s on Earth. And since when would Starfleet fire someone for being an aide (?) to someone who quit? Did they also blackball her so she couldn’t get a civilian job hauling ore or something (which you’d think a highly qualified Starfleet officer like Jean-Luc Picard’s protege would easily be able to do)? And what kind of bitch takes a man resigning in protest of a mishandled humanitarian crisis in which millions/billions are dying and makes it all about her? Although her character concept seems to be ‘someone even Picard wouldn’t care about dying,’ so maybe they had to make her the biggest drip in the Federation.

-Probably the best characters, though, are the Romulan housekeepers who hang out with Picard, so it’s a shame they’re not coming along. And I guess we’re getting a young, hot Romulan guy with a samurai sword instead? Weak. 

-”They’re aliens!” “They have Northern accents.” “Lots of planets have a North!”

-I guess it’s the sign of the times that, between The Last Jedi and Logan, now there’s a subgenre of stories about old, pathetic heroes getting back in the saddle--again, cliche--and y’all thought TLJ was being so subversive when really Luke’s treatment is the de facto prism through which these characters are viewed, the first elevator pitch made. Well, on the one hand, I can see they want to avoid a show where Picard is a high-ranking admiral and can resolve any problem by making a phone call. On the other hand, ‘Picard jumps into the Millennium Falcon and has adventures with a ragtag bunch of misfits’ is not only cliche, it’s a bit un-Star-Trek. The movies told some good stories about Kirk being an admiral. I gotta think there’s a way to try harder and come up with a fun story where Picard struggles and has difficulties while still being a respected icon, instead of basically asking us to imagine this interquel where he squanders all the goodwill he accumulated over the course of TNG and becomes a disgraced weirdo. 

-Likewise with this ‘Data’s daughter is the Chosen One’ stuff. I’d be perfectly happy if the Romulans just have a thing against synthetics because “oh, we had an AI uprising once, it was awful, now we hate them!” But I think they’re going in the direction of there being a big dumb prophecy and guys, Logan already did the ‘we must protect the super-special girl’ thing and it even had Patrick Stewart too. I’m starting to worry they basically took another mediocre TNG movie like Insurrection and stretched it out into a season of Netflix.

-Does it really make sense to treat Picard as a senile old man when people live to be like two hundred in Star Trek, like McCoy did? He should be middle-aged. 

-With the synthetics, there’s a bit of zeerust in that realistically, we would’ve had our robot slaves waaaay before Data, especially in order to have a utopian, post-scarcity civilization to begin with, but Trek continuity has it that nope, Data is the first AI ever, so that’s what we’re going with. And honestly, I prefer it that way to Discovery’s ‘oh, one week before TOS, everyone had holograms and starfighters and Iron Man suits, we all just got rid of those riiiight before The Man Trap for random reasons.’ So that’s that on that. 

-Only 90s kids remember the Eugenics War.

[shikkearu]

Irreplaceable Part 20: It’s not a date!

wattpad AO3 Zoro was grabbing onto his mother's leg. She was making something on the counter, but he could not see and he really needed to know what was going on, but she refused to hold him so this was the second best option. He took a good hold and bounced up and down trying to get a better view. He stopped when Mommy looked down at him. He grinned, but it soon vanished when Mommy frowned at him. He opened his hands letting go of the fabric of her pants. He kept looking up and gently held her leg. She sighed, but smiled lightly before continuing what she was doing. Zoro accepted, that he could not see what she was doing, so he tried his best to listen instead. It was more boring, but could not be helped. His concentration broke when he heard the out door make a noise and he just had to go take a look. He peeked behind the corner and saw his grandfather taking off his jacket. He ran towards him joyfully calling his name:

- "Pappa! Pappa! Pappa!"

Before Mihawk could even react Zoro had grasped onto his leg and was bouncing up and down. He looked at the toddler and smiled surprised. He knelt down to inspect what he was wearing.

- "So you're a panda today?" He asked as he lifted up the hood of his jumpsuit. - "Panda." Zoro repeated and grabbed onto Pappas hand. "Up." Came a small demand. - "Sorry, not right now." He rose away from him.

Zoro pouted and looked at what Pappa was doing. He was taking something out of his bag and gave it to him.

- "Pappa bought you a new puzzle. This one has a tiger in it." He pointed at a picture of a tiger on the package. - "Tigel!" Zoro squealed happily. - "Go show Mommy what you got." Mihawk turned him to face the kitchen.

Zoro started to run excited holding onto the precious box. Midway he stumbled and fell on his face. He stayed down a bit and Mihawk looked at him worried. Finally he rose up. He sniveled a bit and looked at Pappa who was smiling encouragingly. Zoro grinned and a tear fell on his cheek. This time he walked carefully to his mother.

- "Mommy, look! Look! Tigel!" He waved the puzzle box in his hands. - "That's so great, Zoro." Perona smiled, but then looked a bit worried. "Did you fall on your way here?"

Zoro lowered the box and let his mother take a look. His nose was red and eyes too. Perona blew on his nose and kissed it.

- "There, all better." She smiled sweetly. "Let me open that for you."

Zoro was happy that Mommy had taken the hurt away, so of course she could take the treasure from him. Mommy removed a layer of shiny off of the box and then opened it. She took a puzzle out and removed a layer of shiny out of that too. She took hold of Zoros hand and moved him a bit further away so he wouldn't be on her way.

- "There you go."

She held out the new puzzle and Zoro was ecstatic. He dropped all the pieces on the floor and started to play with it. He solved the tiger one first, then a giraffe, an elephant, a zebra and a monkey. Once he was done he showed the puzzle to Mommy.

- "Well done, Zoro."

Getting praise from Mommy warmed Zoros heart so so much. He just had to redo the puzzle again.

Mihawk walked in the room and looked pleased as Zoro was busy with his puzzle. He turned to Perona and sniffed her cooking.

- "Smells good." - "It's going to be good." She huffed. - "Did you make Zoros onesie?" - "It's so cute on him, isn't it." Her eyes sparkled of excitement as she quickly looked at Zoro and then Mihawk. - "At first I thought it was store bought." - "Aww, you!" She was happy and kicked his shin softly.

Mihawk hummed amused and went to sit by the table. Perona was certain he quickly looked at her with such warmth, it should not be possible for him. She glanced at him quickly to see him looking at Zoro play. Maybe it had been a figment of her imagination. Her phone buzzed on the table and she dashed to look. It was from Chiffon, which slightly disappointed her. Law had not messaged her back and it was April already. She had tried to send him messages to explain herself, but he just did not answer. She sighed and checked what Chiffon had written.

- "Chiffon wants to go to an Easter event with me and Zoro." - "That sounds nice, you should go." - "Will you drive us there?"

Mihawk frowned a little. Perona was more than capable of driving herself, but she wasn't that keen on taking the initiative. She was still slightly scared of driving.

- "Maybe you should. I think it would be nice to get some alone time for myself." - "Gross pervert." - "Nothing like that." Mihawk grumbled. "I was thinking of updating the photo albums." - "And then be a gross pervert." Perona sneered.

Mihawk could only sigh.

----

The room was nearly dark only lit by the light from the TV. Perona and Mihawk were watching a movie together, as Zoro was already sleeping. She was craving to be touched, but it would not do to cuddle with Mihawk since she was already thinking of her husband. At these moments she would have cuddled with him. Not that Mihawk wasn't nice and all, just-

She stopped her thought. What the hell was she thinking? Of course she shouldn't be cuddling with her father-in-law. He was just warm and nice because they were family.

Perona huffed which caught Mihawks attention.

- "Is the movie bad?" - "No. I was just thinking on stuff." - "Hmm. Zoros birthday is near, isn't it?" - "May 11th." - "It's pretty close." He grinned. "I can't wait to make his cake." - "It's still a month away." She groaned. - "Aren't you a little bit excited?" He nudged her side with his knuckles.

Perona didn't answer. She really wasn't, but she shouldn't say that. She wasn't really that excited of anything. Not the summer, the potential schools or anything. Even thinking of Zoros coming milestones only made her feel sick. But saying so would only worry Mihawk.

- "Well a little." She sighed.

Mihawk chuckled and ruffled her hair. He rose from the sofa.

- "I can't watch trash like this sober." - "Well then don't. I'd rather have you not drink at all."

They stared at each other. Mihawk looked like he might consider sitting back down, but still went to get himself a glass of wine. Perona frowned disappointed and checked her phone. She was amazed to find a message from Law.

- "It's been awhile. I was angry at you, as I thought we had put that back into the past, but since then I've been thinking. I have no excuse for what I did back then and I wish that you can trust me like a friend in the future." - "It's alright. I think it would have kept nagging between us if I didn't say anything." - "Maybe. Have you heard anything from the schools." - "Two invitations." - "That's amazing! Does it mean we can't see each other? That you'll be busy studying?" - "There's no tests, just hearings."

- "And you're texting. See, I need this." Mihawk came in chuckling and Perona fumbled a bit with her cellphone nearly dropping it. She gave him an angry look.

- "You gave me a fright!"

Mihawk sat down and sneered:

- "I wonder what kind of naughty thing you were writing to have such bad conscience."

Perona snarled at him as he smugly took a sip of his wine. She then turned her attention back to her phone.

- "I guess we could meet up." - "That would be great." - "Some place like a cafe." - "Anything goes."

- "If you're just going to be texting, go somewhere else and let me have the sofa."

Mihawk poked her leg with his and lifted it on the sofa. She glared at him. It had been her idea to watch this movie. Defiantly he looked straight into her eyes and took a sip of his wine. This annoyed her a great deal. She grabbed onto his leg and pulled it on her lap.

- "Now you've got all the space and I won't need to leave. Happy?" She huffed angrily and set her phone aside.

Mihawk didn't reply, but placed his other foot on her lap too. He looked at her for a moment and then set his wineglass aside. Perona was getting pulled back into the movie and without thinking she started to gently pet Mihawks legs.

She felt a warm pair of eyes on her and she turned to look at Mihawk, but he was watching the movie.

It had been so weird lately.

Maybe it was a figment of her imagination, but she felt like he was looking at her differently. Maybe it was the way he looked at the people he loved, his family. She wasn't certain. But for some reason, those moments made her heart flutter. They made her happier.

----

Standing before the school, Perona looked at it nervous. She glanced behind her. Chiffon was there to give her strength since the hearing was in the middle of the day. Perona almost felt her knees buckle and she dashed to Chiffon. Chiffon let out a small squeak as Perona harshly glomped her.

- "It's scary I wanna go home." She whimpered. - "You've done this before remember. It's not so bad." Chiffon laughed.

Perona groaned and went to Zoro, who sat in his stroller.

- "Please give Mommy some strength."

She held her hands out and Zoro placed his hands on hers, without letting his eyes off of the stroller next to his, where sat baby Pez. They were having some weird silly face competition.

- "Uuh, I guess that's good enough." - "You can do it, Perona." Chiffon looked at her encouragingly. - "Dammit, you're right!" Perona straightened out. "I am the only one capable of making my dreams come true. Good things are just bound to happen. And even if I fail I still get to live with Zoro and Mihawk." - "That's the spirit!" Chiffon was getting fired up as well.

But in the interview, her resolution faltered.

- "Why should we take you in our school?" One of the interviewers, Bellemere, looked at her sternly. - "Ah umm." Perona felt panicky and sweated.

The early question of her background were easy to answer, but something like this... Dammit!

She had practiced this at home, but now her mind was blank. The second interviewer wrote something on their paper. Perona kept stuttering, trying to find the words.

- "Why are you passionate about sewing? Why it interests you? What makes you stand out?" Bellemere tried to help out. - "Just uh. I've always liked dressing up and I'm imaginative. I'm actually pretty head strong and won't get pushed aside. Just a bit nervous of this situation."

Perona could see Bellemere start to smile amused and realized, that she had messed up by admitting her nervousness.

- "Since you like dressing up, shouldn't you try a career that has more to do with that? Acting?"

- "No, because I also like to create. Can I show you something?"

- "Go ahead."

Perona dug her bag and lifted up her sketchbook. She also took some printed photos of the clothes she had sewn for Zoro. She also had his panda-jumpsuit with her. The interviewers looked at her assembly. They carefully looked over the jumpsuit, comparing it to the original sketch.

- "You did this?" - "Yes." - "It's actually quite good. We don't usually expect to see a portfolio, so this is a pleasant surprise." Bellemere said and wrote something on her papers. "Do you have something you might want to add?" - "No, nothing." - "Alright then I think were done here." She looked at the other interviewer who nodded. "You'll be getting notified about our decision. Thank you for coming here." - "Thank you. Good bye."

Perona stumbled outside where Chiffon was waiting with the toddlers at a nearby bench. Her hands shook as she sat down next to her.

- "How did it go?" - "Horrible." - "Well you don't know that yet." - "Uuh, I do." She covered her face with her hands.

Chiffon petted Peronas back.

- "At least it's over now." - "I still got another one to go." - "You can do it!" - "I guess. Wanna go shopping now?" - "Of course."

Perona liked going out with Chiffon. Chiffon didn't judge, was fun to be around and as a mother of a child nearly the same age as Zoro she was going through the same things. They had gotten something to eat and were sitting at a park bench. It was such a warm day. Pez started to whine and Chiffon took him up. Apparently it was feeding time. Perona always felt extremely envious of Chiffons ability to breast feed her child, something she herself had always struggled with. She had planned of doing it until Zoro was nearly three, but forcibly had to stop. It was something she would always regret. Somehow regardless of the stress or how her breasts seemingly stopped working, she should have forced herself to keep on trying. She gave Zoro his bottle, filled with the formula. He didn't really seem to dislike it anymore which was a little bit of a relief. Perona pulled her legs to her chest and side glanced at Chiffon and Pez. The two looked so perfect.

- "Does the interview still trouble you?" Chiffon asked slightly worried. - "No, no. I'm just a bit jealous that's all." - "Of what?" - "You being able to feed your child." Perona hugged her feet a bit tighter. - "Oh, I'm sorry." Chiffon knew of Peronas troubles and started to cover herself and Pez. - "Wait, no, no! Don't." Perona made her stop. "I appreciate what you're trying, but you're doing something so wonderful, I don't want to make you feel like an inconvenience."

Chiffon sighed a bit relieved and she petted Peronas back slightly.

- "I've read a study that the effect of breastfeeding isn't as big as thought. It's just that women who choose to do so tend to be more concerned of health issues." She moved down to gently look Perona in the eyes. "Just so you know, you're doing wonderful with Zoro."

Perona whimpered a silent thank you, bit her lip and started to cry. Chiffon kept on calmly petting her back.

----

Mihawk was sitting on his armchair reading a book when Perona returned with Zoro. She undressed his outdoor clothes before letting him go. Instantly he ran to Mihawk and grabbed onto his leg. Mihawk started to do the lifting they normally did, but Zoro was getting too big for it and Perona could see Mihawk straining a little bit. She sat and looked at them both. It was so bittersweet to see Zoro grow. Her eyes got wet.

- "Did it go badly?" Mihawk looked at her. He had noticed the redness of her eyes. - "No." - "Then what's the problem?" - "Zoro. You know you can't do that anymore soon." - "I might not be able to fully lift him, but I'll try as long as he wants it." - "Doesn't it make you sad, having to stop doing things because he gets too big?" - "A little, but all those nice things will get replaced by other things. I might not get to lift him like this, but I'll get to play football with him later."

Mihawk closed his eyes and smiled a little, while lifting Zoro. Finally he stopped and sighed.

- "Pappa is tired now."

This earned him a pout from Zoro, but the child did stop. He ran off to his toy box picking random assortment of colourful toys dropping them in the middle of the floor. He expectantly looked at Mihawk.

- "Play." He pointed at the toys. - "Alright." He went down on the floor with Zoro.

Perona looked on and sighed. She checked her phone.

- "I could do next Saturday at one." Read Laws message.

- "Hey Mihawk, do you have anything on Saturday?" - "No." - "Can you babysit Zoro while I'm gone?" - "Of course. What are you going to do?" - "Just a date." She quickly explained herself. "A meeting. Not a romantic date." - "Aha." Mihawk looked a bit skeptical, but kept his mouth shut. He had promised Perona not to meddle in her affairs. - "It's really not that sort of date." Perona mumbled embarrassed. - "Perona, you can do what ever you please as long as it's not damaging to anyone." - "Ah, yes, but-" - "I'm playing with Zoro right now." Mihawk cut her short. Talking about this wasn't what he wanted to do. It was stinging his heart unnecessarily.

Perona rose from the sofa to put away the rest of her things. Of course Mihawk was angry at her. She was angry at herself. This wasn't a date, she kept telling herself and Law. Not a date.

Then why did she feel so ashamed?

----

Perona was on her way to the "not-a-date". It was sunny and nice, though a bit chilly, but one didn't need to wear a jacket anymore. She stopped before her reflection on a window. A simple blouse and skinny jeans, hair on a loose bun on top of her head, with a bow and unicorn shaped cute pins. She had a small bag over her shoulder. She had put on simple make-up, so she wouldn't look like a slob. As she stared at her reflection only one thought crossed her mind:

- "I'm definitely over dressed, he'll think this is a date for sure."

She had tried her best to stay casual and she did look so to the passerby, but still she felt uncertain. But there was no turning back now, for Law would hate her if she did a last minute cancel, he was a very busy man after all. She walked slowly towards her destination and saw him wait by the door to a cafe casually looking at his cellphone listening to music. He was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, a fluffy black scarf and his typical hat. During the time they had not seen, he had grown a beard. It made her want to know what a beard would have looked like on her husband. A small sigh escaped her lips.

- "Hey." She came to him with a weak smile. "Have you waited for long?" - "No." Law tugged off his earphones and shoved them in his pocket along with his cell phone. "I didn't think you'd actually show up." He looked visibly surprised, but glad. - "Well I'm here now." - "Thank you."

Law smiled a little relieved. He was so different to the small interactions they've had in the past. Maybe he was just being shy right now or maybe that unpredictable violent side had dulled a bit with their messaging. She hoped it was the latter.

- "Uh, sorry, but you look sad." He looked a bit worried. "Is something wrong?" - "I just wondered what a beard would look like on him." - "Oh. I don't think he was the beard type of guy." - "You're probably right. Though his beard didn't grow so well yet so he preferred to shave it." - "Too young."

Perona nodded silently. He had passed on too young. There should have been more years left for them. Tears swelled in her eyes. Law lifted his hand to touch her back, but decided against it. Instead he gestured to the door.

- "Maybe we should go inside?" - "Yeah, you're right." She quickly rubbed her eyes, careful not to mess up her make-up.

After ordering their drinks they sat at a table in the corner. There was a small awkward silence between them.

- "So how have the interviews been?" - "Okay I guess. I'm probably not who they're looking for anyway." - "Probably."

Perona puffed her cheeks. He was not supposed to say something like that, but she let it pass.

- "How has your work been?" - "Busy."

Another awkward silence. This whole situation felt unbearable. Completely different from their messaging where he sounded positive and was quick to answer and keep the conversation going. Perona averted her eyes from him and took a sip of her drink. Law looked at his cup holding it with both of his hands.

- "Sorry. It's a bit easier to talk to others when not face-to-face." - "I- Yes, you're right."

Another silence. Perona looked at her bag and took her sketch book.

- "I showed them this in the interviews. They were pleasantly surprised."

Law eyed over some of her sketches and smiled a bit.

- "They're okay." - "Not just okay, but great, you ass!" - "What?"

Peronas hands flew over her mouth and Law looked at her shocked. To her shock he burst into laughter and she soon joined in.

- "Calling me an ass. What the hell?" He chuckled - "I'm sorry, you're supposed to be more supportive, stupid." - "I'm a bit of a pessimist to be honest. Don't want to get peoples hopes up so they wont be left down when they fail." - "You think I'm going to fail?" - "Definitely." - "Rude."

From there the conversation started to flow more naturally. It went into all directions and at times Law did bring up her husband and the memories he had with him. It felt so heart-warming that there were others who missed him as much as she did. Time passed rather quickly. Law persuaded Perona to let him walk her home and she finally did. They were in no rush and kept on talking. When they were at the start of her home road she stopped. Law studied her while she fidgeted slightly as she was thinking on how to express herself right to him.

- "I don't think it's a good idea to have you walk me all the way." - "Why?" - "Just- uh- I don't think my father-in-law would like it at all. He thinks this is a date." - "It's not?" - "It's not!" She cried out and blushed. "Well not in a romantic way or anything. Just two friends hanging out." - "Then there should be no problem." - "Well yeah, but still I'd rather have you not."

Perona looked down at her feet and spun her fingers. Law smirked and bend down to kiss her cheek. She squeaked surprised. Enraged she turned to chastise him, but Law was already walking off waving his hand.

- "Can't wait for the next not-a-date."

Perona blushed wildly and rubbed her cheek. The sensation that Laws kiss left her with was completely different from her husbands kisses. She felt guilty. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

She missed her husband.

I totally know Zoro's birthday isn't in May, but on the other hand I didn't think the story would go this long. Thus the timeline is all fucked up. Sorry. ;A;

This is my first long story ever as I didn't even know I liked writing this much. I really thought I would get bored or something, as I didn't like my writing back then, but I was encouraged by people so I kept on going. I'm really grateful to them.

Now I like to re-read this and see myself getting better, when I compare the first chapters to the later ones. Also I like the story so... I've read this so many times. Most views are propably from myself. lol TwT

[supergirl-imagines]

Lena Luthor/you fic pt 21

“Alex says that they’ve moved her to a containment cell and that she should be waking up soon?” Kara locks her phone after relaying the message to Lena and then slides it into her pocket.  She had changed back into her street clothes as soon as she had assured Lena that the surgery had gone well and that Alex was sewing you up. “Containment cell?” Lena frowns as she repeats the phrase. “Look,” Kara sighs and brushes her hair back out of her face before continuing, “you and I both know that she would never do something to hurt you under regular circumstances…but she isn’t completely human now.  This is about more than her assault on you—the DEO won’t take any chances of an incident involving civilians because she can’t control her powers.” “Y/N is a civilian.” “I know this is hard for you, but you’re just going to have to trust me,” Kara squeezes her best friend’s shoulder.  “I’ll make sure that she’s alright in here until they allow her out.” “Fine,” Lena relents for the time being.  Her eyes are still bloodshot and look irritated as they fixate on the wall across the room.  After a few seconds, she makes an admission.  “I’m so scared to see her.” “I know,” Kara murmurs.  “What can I do to make this easier?” “I don’t know.  I don’t think any of this can get easier.” “Well,” Kara paused for a moment as she racked her brain for an idea, “what if we go and see her after she wakes up without her seeing us?  The glass in the containment cells can turn one-way.” “Won’t she just be able to see through it?  You have x-ray vision.” “Dammit,” Kara huffed, “I forgot.” “Are there cameras in the cells?” Kara thought for a moment before shrugging.  “Probably.  I’m sure Winn can rig one if there isn’t.” —————————-

“And….there,” Winn handed over the tablet he had synchronized with one of his hidden cameras from the downtown spy store.  “Let me know if it starts glitching or anything.” “Thank you, Winn,” the Luthor heiress nodded at the man gratefully and braced herself to look at the screen.  Her heart caught in her chest as soon as she saw your figure sprawled across the small bed attached to one of the cell walls.   “No problem.  Feel better,” Winn replied before making a move to leave the room.  As he left, he shot Kara a questioning glance in an attempt to get a clue of how the brunette was doing.  Kara shrugged and mouthed the words ‘I don’t know’.  The actions did not go unnoticed by Lena. “I’m fine,” she announced.  Neither Winn nor Kara exactly looked convinced, but they nodded anyways.  As if to emphasize her point, Lena got to her feet and crossed the room to sit in a chair.   “Do you want to go get something to eat?” Kara offered.  “You don’t have to stay cooped up in here all day.” “I’m not very hungry.” “Lena, you have to eat,” Kara reminded her patiently.  Lena’s eyes didn’t waiver from the screen in her hand, but she sighed and her body language indicated that she had relented. “Come on; ever since Supergirl started working for the DEO they keep the fridges stocked,” Kara took her friend by the arm and led her out into the hallway.  Lena’s treaded hospital socks scuffed against the floor as she and Kara headed towards one of the break rooms together.  The dark-haired woman glanced up every so often just to ensure she wasn’t about to run into anything or anyone, but her gaze stayed locked on Winn’s tablet for the majority of the trip.  By the time they sat down at a table, you still hadn’t shown any signs of waking. Kara went about rummaging through the fridge while Lena watched you; using her best judgement as to what the CEO would feel like eating.  Eventually, she settled on two microwaveable bowls of soup, which she heated up using her own powers in several seconds. “Thank you,” Lena took the spoon Kara offered her and finally set the tablet down onto the table.  “I really owe you a lot for dealing with me through all of this.” “Lena, shut up.  You’re my best friend and you’ve saved me a handful of times.  You don’t owe me anything and we’ll get through this together.” “Has anyone ever told you that your optimism is unnatural?” “Nothing about me is natural.  I’m an alien.” For the first time since she had watched Lillian’s men take you, Lena smiled.  That, in turn, made Kara smile, having finally broke through the haze of Lena’s shock and distress from being attacked.  She even took a bite of her soup as well.  While she was distracted by her first meal of the day, Kara took the time to watch the tablet Winn had programmed. When you started to move almost five minutes later, Kara kept her cool and nonchalantly sent Alex a text to go check on you.  She wanted to be sure that you were stable before Lena realized that you were awake.  The last thing she needed was to see something that would traumatize her further. ———————————————–

You hardly had time to open your eyes and look at your surroundings before a panel of the wall across from you slid to the side with a hiss of hydraulics.  Kara’s sister entered with a clipboard in hand and a gentle, but anxious smile.  You rubbed your eyes and sat up before swinging your legs over the side of the bed so that you could face her. “Y/N?  Do you know where you are?” “No.  What happened?  Did you get the chip out?” “Whoa, slow down,” Alex said as she sat down beside you.  “The procedure went well and we got it out.  CADMUS can’t control you anymore.” “Where am I?” “That would take a lot of explaining, but to put it simply this is a secret government facility designed to keep humans and aliens safe.” “Of course it is,” you sighed.  “What about…what about Lena?  Is she…” “She’s alright.  Well, as alright as she can be.  Kara’s with her right now.” “I know—I mean, I figured,” you corrected yourself quickly and reminded yourself that what you saw earlier was probably nothing but a dream your subconscious had conjured up to comfort you.  “Am I still, uh, like your sister?” “That’s what we need to talk about now that you’re back to normal.  We have no idea how to deal with the effects of what Lillian did to you.  None of our contacts in any country have ever seen anything like this.  Which means we have no idea how to extract the Kryptonian genes that have laced themselves within your original DNA.” You had looked away from Alex as soon as she finished her first sentence.  Instead, your eyes were locked on your own hands.  They didn’t look any different than they had before.  Slowly, you reached down and gripped the metal frame of the bed beneath you.  With just a slight squeeze the steel bent and molded under your grip.  You let go immediately and sucked in a deep breath.   “Y/N?” “You can’t let me hurt anyone else,” you whispered.   “Hey, hey, calm down.  You’re not going to hurt anyone.” “I already did.” “That wasn’t your fault,” Alex said sternly.  Against her better judgement, she squeezed your arm.  She was a little shocked that you didn’t rip away from her.  “Y/N, Lena doesn’t blame you.  You need to know that.” “Well, where’s Lillian?  Have you guys caught her yet?” Alex didn’t answer right away and that was enough to tell you that Lillian was still on the loose.  The thought of her already plotting something made your skin crawl and the fog that had surrounded your senses upon waking cleared.   “She’s still out there?” “Y/N, calm down.  You can’t afford to lose your temper now that you’re…enhanced.  Not if you don’t want to hurt anyone.” Alex tightened her grip on her arm as she pleaded with you.  For a split second, she thought she saw the familiar yellow glow starting behind your eyes, but it faded before she could even react. “Sorry,” you murmured.  Still, your heart continued to hammer against your chest and your face felt unnaturally warm.  “I’m fine.” “Good, good.”  Alex released the breath she was holding and let go of your arm.  “See; controlling your powers won’t be that hard.  You’re off to a good start.” What she wasn’t telling you was that the Kryptonite dose they had given you hadn’t fully worn off yet and things would get a lot harder once you had fully recovered.   “When, uh…is Lena going to want to…” “Honey, I’m sure she’s just as concerned about you, but until we can be sure you have yourself under control we can’t let you two see each other.” “I, uh, understand,” you nodded quickly and folded your hands in your lap.  “I get it.” In all sincerity, you weren’t really ready to look her in the eye yet.  Not when just thinking about it brought back the images of your hands around her neck all too clearly. ————————————————– “Lena?”  Kara gently squeezed her friend’s shoulder and bit her bottom lip.   “Hmm?” Lena’s eyes, which had been glued to the tablet since Kara notified her of your changed condition, flickered up and met Kara’s. “I know things are…tense right now and you can’t see each other, but do you want to talk to her?  I can call Alex and she can use her phone.” “Do you think…that would be a good idea?” Lena asked uncertainly.  It was easy to see the anxiety that began to morph her features.  What would she even say to you? “I think that you’re both scared and hurt and that this could make you feel better.” “Okay,” Lena all but whispered as she gave a small nod. ————————————————– “Here.” Your hand shook as Alex handed you her phone and you raised it slowly to your ears.   “Lena?” “Y/N?” Her voice seemed to tremble as much as your body did and tears stung at your eyes almost immediately.   “I’m so sorry,” you blurted out.  “Lena, I would never hurt you but I—“ “I know you wouldn’t,” Lena interrupted with more strength in her words this time and it provided some stability to you.  You reminded yourself that you needed to keep a hold on your feelings now.  For everyone’s sake.  “Please don’t blame yourself.  Please.” “I could have killed you,” you reminded her quietly. “This is Lillian’s fault, okay?  Not yours.  You know…you know I still love you.” “You still love me?” you repeated.  After everything that seemed improbable, but you had never had a single reason not to trust her.   “Of course.  And Kara’s going to help you learn how to control your powers so that you can get out of here, alright?” “You can’t go anywhere until they catch Lillian, please.  She’s still out there,” you pleaded.   “I won’t, I promise.” “Okay.  I, uh…how bad did I hurt you?  I mean, are you alright?” “I’m alright, Y/N.  Please, just try to forget.” “I don’t think I can,” you admitted, “but I’ll try.” “That’s all I ask.  I love you, okay?  Try to get some rest tonight.” “I love you too,” you replied weakly.  All you wanted was to be able to fall asleep with her beside you and now you couldn’t even be in the same room.  “Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

[mysterious-matcha]

The Misadventures of a Piano Cat

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2062 (2957+ total)

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Fluff

Type: multi-chapter [all chapters]

Summary: Thanks to Himiko’s magic spell, Kaede turned into a cat.

Pairing(s): Amami Rantarou x Akamatsu Kaede

Warning: language (blame Kaito and Miu)

Chapter 2: Kitty Dress-Up

“KYAAAAA SHE’S SO FLOOFY!!!!!” Tsumugi was hysterical the first time she saw the golden fur Persian cat. She snatched the poor feline from Rantarou’s hand and hugged her tightly. Tsumugi then lifted Kaede up above her head and started singing, “IT’S THE CIRCLE OF LIIIIIFE!!!”

Kaede however, didn’t seem too happy with Tsumugi’s treatment.

“Guess taking her to stay at Shirogane-san’s place isn’t the best idea, after all...” Rantarou sighed, regretting his choice.

“And whose idea is that?!” Kokichi snarled. “And everyone keeps blaming me when something goes wrong?!”

“What?!” Rantarou replied. “I didn’t expect Shirogane-san to get everyone to come!”

“...Can I go home now...?” Himiko asked weakly. Himiko and Maki both seemed unenthusiastic to be there.

“Gonta wants to hold her too!” Gonta said passionately, contrary to the two girls. “Maybe Gonta can talk to cats like he talks to insects!”

“Wait you can actually talk to bugs?!” Kokichi was shook. “Like, having actual conversations with them? For real?!”

“Yes!” Gonta answered. “Gonta has always been friends with all the animals in the forest ever since he was a child. Gonta always talks to them, so he also understands their language.”

“Oh, good one. Guess you can translate what Akamatsu-chan says, then.”

“Yes!”

In the other hand, Tsumugi was still playing around with Kaede. “I wonder if I should dress her up with some cosplay~”

“Um, about that...” Rantarou tried to interfere. “Maybe you should ask if she’s okay with it or not.”

Tsumugi wasn’t even listening—she brought Kaede to the bathroom and started giving her some shower, ignoring her angry meows that sounded more like roars. Then she dried her fur with a towel. After Tsumugi was done, she brought Kaede to the dressing room where everyone else was waiting.

“Uh, Shirogane-san...” Rantarou tried to tallk his way, but Tsumugi was still too busy grooming Kaede. She untangled Kaede’s fur with a wide-toothed comb and continued drying her fur with a hair dryer.

“You should use the lowest heat setting,” Ryouma told Tsumugi. “If you set the heat too high, she might get over-heated.”

“Oh, thanks for the advice, Hoshi-kun!” Tsumugi replied as she lower the heat setting for the hair dryer.

“Also you’ll need to clean up the messy fur later,” Maki added while cleaning some of Kaede’s fur. “She’s shedding all over the place.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I’m not too fond of Persian cats,” Ryouma replied her. “Russian Blue however, is my personal favorite.”

“Toujou-chan will take care of it, don’t worry~” Kokichi replied as he attempted to lean down on Himiko’s lap only for Himiko to avoid him and hide behind Tenko.

“Gonta didn’t know that Hoshi-kun is so knowledgeable about cats!” he complimented the little guy.

“It’s nothing, really,” Ryouma shrugged. “I have a few at home, so I just learn things about cats from books and such.”

“But Gonta still wants to learn from Hoshi-kun! Is that okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Meanwhile, Kirumi had been serving peppermint tea to everyone else.

“...Thank you.” Maki awkwardly replied to the maid as she and a few others started drinking.

“Nishishi~” Kokichi giggled while mixing his tea with some grape panta he prepared beforehand.

“OUMA WHAT THE FUCK?!!!” Kaito was shook.

“Why on earth would you mix tea and soda?!” Saihara was also shook.

“Because I can~” Kokichi answered the shook guys with a sly grin.

“Amami-kun, Shirogane-san, Gokuhara-kun, if you are done, the tea is on the table,” Kirumi told them. “I also served a bowl of milk for Akamatsu-san.”

“Thanks, Toujou-san,” Rantarou replied her without taking his eyes off of Kaede and Tsumugi.

Tsumugi was still busy grooming Kaede. She applied some makeup on her, such as mascara, eye shadow and some blush. Unlike when taking shower, this time Kaede seemed less rebellious. She probably has passed her denial phase, Rantarou thought.

After giving her some makeup, Tsumugi put a tiny pink ribbon on her ahoge. Then she put Kaede in front of a mirror on the dresser. “So what do you think?” she asked, expecting a positive feedback.

Kaede was awed when she saw her own reflection on the mirror. “Beautiful, right?” Tsumugi asked again.

“I’d say yes...” Rantarou said as he took his phone out from his pocket and took a picture of Kaede.

“Gonta thinks so too,” Gonta agreed with Rantarou. “Gonta didn’t even know that you could put makeup on animals.”

“But this isn’t my final touch yet~” Tsumugi said again as she confidently adjusted her glasses. This time she pulled out a measuring tape from god-knows-where.

“Okay what are you gonna do this time?” Rantarou seemed concerned.

“Do I even need to answer that? It’s time for some kitty cosplay!!” Tsumugi cheered.

“Cosplay?!” Gonta was surprised. “You can make animals wear clothes like humans do?!”

“Yes I can. Fu fu fu~”

“Kaede, you’re really okay with this?” Rantarou asked her, being a concerned boyfriend. Kaede only replied with an indifferent meow.

“Akamatsu-san said “whatever”,” Gonta translated her.

“Alright then,” Rantarou gave up. He decided to just take a sip of tea that Kirumi made.

“So does anyone have a suggestion for the cosplay theme?!” Tsumugi yelled so that everyone could hear her.

“Angie wants an animal onesie~” Angie suggested. “Kinda like, you know~. Cat costume~? Or teddy bear costume~? Or pretty much anything fluffy~?”

“That’s... kinda redundant...” Kaito replied her.

“But that would be reeeaally fluffy~!!!” Angie cheered.

“How about a skimpy stripper costume?!” Iruma suggested.

“Iruma-san, please don’t,” Saihara told her.

“What’s your problem, virgin uke detective?!!” Iruma spat on him instead.

“Virgin uke detective?!” Saihara couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Stay away from Saihara, you slut!!” Maki, out of everyone, unexpectedly defended the detective.

“Shut up, washboard chest!!” Iruma flamed Maki back, even though she was stuttering. “No one asked for your opinion!!!”

Maki didn’t say a word. She just gave Iruma the sharpest glare possible—which was more than enough to make her shriek.

“Harukawa-san, please stop!” Saihara told her.

“T, Tenko doesn’t usually raise her arms against girls, so...” Tenko tried to calm the others down, preparing to fight. “Can Iruma-san and Harukawa-san please... calm down?”

“Tch,” Maki hissed as she looked away from the gaudy-looking inventor girl. Iruma was still shaking on the ground.

“Seriously guys...” Himiko complained again. “I didn’t come here to watch everyone fighting...”

The dressing room became silent for a few moments.

“Tahaaaaa.....!!!” Kokichi let out a satisfied smile after drinking his grape panta-peppermint tea mix as if to break the silence. Meanwhile Kaito and Saihara gave him disgusted glares.

“Anyway, everyone,” Tsumugi switched back the topic into the original one. “I guess I can start with the cosplay thing now.”

Tsumugi then started measuring Kaede’s sizes and draw the basic pattern on some sheets of paper. “And now time to sew the costume...” she mumbled. “Oh, Akamatsu-san can play with the others while waiting.”

“Alrighty~” Rantarou replied as he caught Kaede that jumped onto him. “Now Kaede, you wanna drink some...”

Rantarou hadn’t finished his sentence when he found out that Ryouma poured the milk into a glass and gave her a bowl of water instead. “Hoshi-kun, what the hell?” he complained.

“This may sound surprising to you, but cow milk is actually bad for cats,” Ryouma said. “Cats are mostly lactose intolerant, so cow milk can make them sick and give them diarrhea.”

“So what can cats drink?” Rantarou asked again.

“Water is enough,” Ryouma answered while giving a bowl of water to Kaede. Kaede then drank the water from the bottle.

“Okay, how about the milk? Should we give it to Ouma-kun so he gets taller?”

“Hey, I heard that!!!” Kokichi complained. “Also Hoshi-chan’s shorter than me, so he should be the one drinking more milk. Let me enjoy my panta in peace, dammit!!!”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Hoshi-kun has a bigger dong than yours!” Rantarou flamed him back. “Maybe milk can also increase dong size?”

Kokichi gasped hysterically, and then he ran into Saihara’s arms while crying. “SAIHARA-CHAAAAN!!!”

“E-eh?” Saihara was dumbfounded.

“Amami-chan bullied me again!!!” Kokichi cried.

“Well you pretty much deserve it,” Kaito told Kokichi. “Don’t sweat it, Saihara.”

Rantarou only gave Kokichi a cynical glare.

“See?!” Kokichi pointed at him.

“Uh, yeah...” Saihara couldn’t really say anything about them.

Kaede, who was still drinking, rolled her eyes as she couldn’t care less about the bickering boys behind her.

“The costumes are now done!!” Tsumugi cheered few minutes later.

“Whoa, that was quick,” Kaito commented.

“That’s SHSL Cosplayer for you~” Angie commented. “Mugi sure can make any costumes real fast~”

Kaede glanced at the dresser. She saw some costumes Tsumugi already prepared for her, such as cat onesie, idol costume, and a princess dress.

“Nyaaa~!” Angie cheered. “Angie wants to paint Kaede with all the cute costumes!”

“Yonaga-san, I think I can just take some photos of her and give them to you,” Rantarou suggested. “Then you can paint from those photos.”

“Good idea~” Angie agreed with him. “But Angie prefers painting from a living sample...”

“Well, Persian cats are fairly docile, so she probably won’t move much when you’re painting her,” Ryouma said.

“Yeah but, I’m not sure if Kaede herself would be okay with sitting for like, two hours in front of the canvas.” Rantarou hesitated. “Also I’m pretty sure it’d be better if you do it in your own pacing, right?”

“Okay...” Angie gave up.

“So what do you guys think?!” Tsumugi passionately showed Kaede off to the rest of the kids. Kaede was wearing a onesie with white synthetic fur and a pair of cat ears on its hoodie. The onesie actually fit to her slender body, making her body parts that weren’t covered in it, such as her paws and her head, looked even fluffier in comparison.

“SO CUTE AND FLUFFY~!!!” Angie screamed. “ANGIE WANTS TO HUG KAEDE UNTIL SHE DIES~!!!”

“Uh, Yonaga-san, please don’t,” Saihara told her.

“Oh yeah, Rantarou would be jealous~” Angie teased him.

Rantarou didn’t even bother to say anything to the bubbly tan girl. He just took some photos of Kaede with his phone.

Right after that, Tsumugi changed Kaede’s onesie with a cutesy, puffy pink dress and a ribbon on her neck with some piano motifs on it. “And there’s also an idol costume!” she cheered again. “Tenko Tenko Teeeen!”

“D, did you just—” Tenko was shook. “Shirogane-san, why did you—”

“Nishishi~ Chabashira-chan would look cute in an idol outfit, wouldn’t she?!” Kokichi teased her.

“STOP IT!!!” Tenko was flustered by his teasing.

After Rantarou took some pictures again, Tsumugi then changed Kaede’s outfit for the last time. “And last but not least, PRINCESS DRESS!!!”

Kaede was wearing another pink dress, but this time it looked more elegant. The dress actually covered up her rear toes. It had some flower ornaments on the waist part and a ribbon on the chest. She was also wearing a tiara and a pink pearl necklace.

“So what do you guys think?” Tsumugi asked everyone else.

“SO BEAUTIFUL KYAAAAAA!!!” Tenko fangirled.

“I SAW A CAT SO BEAUTIFUL I STARTED CRYING???!!!” Kaito was also amazed at her.

“MOMOTA-KUN, DON’T CRY!!!” Gonta tried to calm Kaito down, even though Gonta himself didn’t seem calm either. “IF YOU CRY, GONTA WILL ALSO CRY!!!”

“Shirogane-san, you did a great job!” Saihara complimented the cosplayer instead. “Also, Momota-kun, Gonta-kun, please don’t cry, okay?”

Rantarou was too awed to say anything. He hasn’t done taking pictures yet, but this time his breathing was loud enough for some of the kids near him to hear.

“May I ask what is disrupting you, Amami-kun?” Shinguuji asked him.

“Amami-kun, are you okay?” Saihara was also concerned.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Rantarou answered. But then he jokingly said, “I think I’m having diabetes...”

“No, you aren’t,” Kiibo refuted. “According to my scans on your body, your blood sugar is still on the normal level.”

“Ugh...” Rantarou grunted. He face-palmed and massaged his temples as he was baffled with Kiibo’s denseness to the point it gave him headache. He decided to not say anything to the robot because he’s been his classmate long enough to know that any attempt to teach him about metaphors would be pointless.

“Hey, uh, Kiibo-chan,” Kokichi called as he put his hands on Kiibo’s shoulders. Kokichi then leaned closer to Kiibo’s ear and whispered, “Shut the fuck up.”

So this chapter is basically:

60% pointless bickering

20% shoehorned cat facts from Hoshi

15% shoehorned shippy moments

5% actual cosplaying

Sorry folks~

Other than that, I don’t really have anything else to say other than le usual comment-whoring and like-whoring smh. Feel free to add comments~