#edit: WAIT WAIT . I WAS TODAY YEARS WHEN I NOTICED HE STILL HAS BURN MARKS FROM THE SUN HERE

[fucklestat]

he’s strange and unsettling to YOU. he’s my babygirl though <3

[lailannajacobs]

Heart of the Night

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky finds you after a mission that didn’t quite go as planned. 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: lil bit angsty 

A/N: This is my submission for @wkemeup​​ 9k challenge, it’s not quite as edited as I would have liked but the end of the school year is always super busy so here it is! Congrats Kas, you are such an incredible writer, your talent absolutely blows my mind, it’s just unbelievable and I hope one day to have a tenth of your skill! You deserve everything great and more! <3

The needle trembled, metal glinting off the fluorescent light in your bathroom as it hovered just above the skin of your abdomen. The air reeked of copper. The pristine sink was marred with the dark red streaks of failure. You tried to swallow, but it felt like you were choking on your own throat. 

The needle approached the bloody canyon made by a knife you’d been too careless to avoid, and hovered there, trying to find its mark. The world swayed. You’d lost too much blood already. The needle clattered into the sink, black thread trialing behind it like a broken tether. You were somehow conscious — delirious? — enough to think you were lucky it hadn’t gone down the drain because you didn’t have time to call a plumber. Wait no. You’d just have to get a new one from the cabinet. You tried to reach for the needle. Your body didn’t react. Instead, it swayed dangerously, only your fighting instincts keeping you from tumbling to the floor by gripping onto the edge of the sink. At least there were some things blood could wash off from.

“YN!” that familiar voice burst into your apartment, “pool table. Five minutes. I swore to Sam that this was the day we finically beat Vision and his perfect calculations.”

You swore at the joyful ness in his voice. You couldn’t match that tone right now if you tried. But you had to. The mission had gone well. You’d done what you’d set out to do. Only you, the ever-present failure, had gotten yourself stabbed along the way. The only mercy was that no one else had noticed and you’d disappeared to your apartment without drawing suspicion. That was, until now if you couldn’t pull yourself together. You willed your body to close the bathroom door, but it wouldn’t move. If anything, everything only spun even more.

“Where the hell are...”

You felt his presence in your doorway. Felt his gaze like a physical thing. You were always aware of him. Even now was no exception. Maybe if you pretended he wasn’t there, he’d go away. Right. And the three-inch gash in your stomach would stitch itself up. You turned your head, not realizing how many abdominal muscles it took to look over your shoulder. Your pride and the death grip your slick fingers held on the porcelain were the only reasons the spinning didn't send you tumbling to the ground.

When your bathroom came into focus again, the only thing you really saw was Bucky taking up most of the doorway. And he was seething. His normally cool eyes were raging hurricanes, framed between hard lines of frustration on his face. They scanned you from top to bottom with deathly calm, from the sports bar you had on that exposed all your skin and the bruises you garnered during the mission to the sweatpants you’d changed into. An X-ray would have been less intrusive. You shivered. It was probably the blood loss.

You wanted to make up some excuse for your failure, but his anger was justified. You were a liability on the field. They were bound to have figured it out eventually.

He said nothing as he stalked over in a few brisk strides, fury emanating from him in waves. He stopped beside you, the pleasant smell of his freshly showered body chasing away the tang in the air. You closed your eyes. It was a coward’s move, but you’d take any peace you could get before everything you’d worked so hard to keep got taken away from you.

“Sit,” he ordered in a low, almost growly voice, “now.”

You went to sit on the toilet but tipped backward before you could make it. His arms gathered around you, easing you onto the closed seat. Your head lolled back and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.” He decided, “I need an explanation. Talk to me.”

It seemed like too much work. All you wanted to do was go to sleep.

“No,” he ordered as if you’d spoken the words aloud. Maybe you had.

You opened your eyes, caught in the crossfire of his icy stare, “Hydra agent during the extraction.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

The extraction of the French Prime Minister had been more than an hour ago. You should have been stitched up a long time ago. You should not have been dripping on the pale bathroom tiles.

“Surface wound,” you continued as professionally as your body would allow, knowing that even though you’d live, your failure was the reason for his fury, “came here. Was in the process of fixing it.”

“We have medics,” he growled, “what were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t about to tell him how your presence was a poison that would likely get them all killed eventually. Or that your constant mistakes were your own consequences to deal with — to fix. He probably knew that all ready. His question had to be rhetorical.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he were trying to steady his anger. You stared at him, the winter soldier kneeling before you, his calloused hands still resting on your hips. He let out a sigh, his breath warm on your stomach.

“I should call for a medic,” he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, “I can take care of my own mistakes.”

His lids snapped open, piercing blue eyes pinning you to the spot with their ice cold intensity. He was obviously still pissed. But he didn’t call for a medic. Instead, he got up, warm hands leaving behind nothing more than goosebumps and shivers — from the blood loss, of course�� and picked up the needle.

“This is going to hurt,” he murmured once he was kneeling in front of you again.

You tried to nod, but the motion sent your vision spinning again and you gripped onto his shoulder for support, the metal sturdy beneath your grip.

He looked up into your eyes, “are you sure you want me to do this? It’ll leave a scar and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s only fitting,” you coughed a laugh, “at least the outside will start looking like the inside.”

His brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything. He knew what you were. You were a mutant who somehow got the ‘gift’ of being able to make anything stop functioning. You could make plans fall apart. Kill a software program. Stop a body’s functioning. Even ruin a functioning team like the Avengers. With skill, you should have been one of their greatest assets, ruining everything that threatened the world. But your ‘gift’ extended to yourself as well. You ruined everything you touched. Even the good. Especially, it always seemed, the good.

He pierced your skin without warning, but you were glad for the pain. It gave you something else to focus on than the echoing thoughts of your failure. But Bucky was gentle. Despite the anger you knew must still be there, his movements were delicate and focused, hesitating whenever you winced or sucked in a breath.

By the time he tied the knot, you were surprised you were still upright. He might have been efficient, but you couldn’t tell if it had taken seconds, minutes or even hours. His hands cupped your face and eyes you hadn’t realized you’d closed fluttered open. He was so close now, his expression pinched with worry. You couldn’t help but wonder how it could be for you.

“I’m almost done,” he said softly, “but you’ll probably need a transfusion.”

Adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Please don’t take me there,” you begged, “I can’t hurt anyone else.”

Your abilities rarely activated while you were asleep, but you wouldn’t risk the lives of the other patients or the doctors by going down to the medical wing. Years ago, when you’d realized what your abilities were, you’d stopped sleeping anywhere near anyone else. Now, hurt, there was an even greater chance you might lose control.

If you hadn’t been working so hard for consciousness, you would have also told Bucky to leave. But it wouldn’t have mattered. For some reason, he always stayed. Even when he was within the radius of your power. Even when you told him to go. Especially then. He always stayed.

“I won’t hurt anyone else,” you choked out, “I always hurt someone else.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek, “and yet you saved me today.”

You looked away from his burning gaze, your tears threatening to spill.

He continued, mercifully ignoring your watery eyes, “even though you were hurt you dropped that Hydra agent before he could shoot me in the back. We didn’t lose a single agent today, YN. That’s because you were there.”

“No,” you tried to shake your head, but his hands held on tightly, “they — you — saved yourselves. I got stabbed.”

“You got stabbed because you were busy watching everyone else’s back,” he growled, that earlier anger returning.

“I ruin things,” you repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

But it didn’t matter. He never seemed to believe you. But he needed to. You desperately needed him to before you ruined him too.

“Please leave,” you whimpered.

His answer was simple, “No.”

He took his hands back, but it was only to find some gauze to place over your cut. Once he was done, he scooped you up so gently the movement only hurt a lot instead of blinding pain and brought you to bed.

You gripped his shirt, fist balling up at the hem with all the strength you had left, “you need to leave, Bucky. Now.”

For some reason, the bastard smirked, “Someone has to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“I’ll be fine,” you snapped, though it lacked any kind of force.

He didn’t look impressed, “If you were fine you wouldn’t be begging me to leave. You’d be downstairs with me and we’d be getting our asses handed to us by Vision and Sam like every other Thursday night.”

You wanted to protest. You wanted to protect him, but you had no fight left in you. And with the plush mattress calling you to sleep, the world went dark before you could figure out a way to get him to leave.

“All right Destructo, show me what you’ve got.”

You weren’t a fan of the nickname, but you weren’t about to tell the Tony Stark to shut up and use your real name. And anyways, as much as you hated using your abilities, and how you were always overcome by the tidal wave of fear that sent fear rolling like waves throughout your body, you always felt better — healthier even — after using them. And he was giving you free range now.

Eight suits surrounded you in a perfect octagon, hands out like they were ready to strike. Tony had somehow altered his suits so that they’d shoot bubbles — of all things — instead of small blasts and said you’d only be alive if you managed to take them all down before a single bubble came out.

A small grin unwittingly made its way onto your face.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Tony remarked, “it’ll come in handy for future testing. Ready?”

You nodded and ignored the bit about future testing. They might have thought they wanted you now but after they saw how much of a curse you really were, they weren’t going to keep you around long enough for future testing. You prayed that day wasn’t any time soon.

But you were ready now. That was until Tony’s voice crackled through the intercoms once more, “just make sure you don’t kill anyone of us in the process. I’d hate to miss Taco Tuesday.

You lifted your chin, “Give me thirty seconds with the enemies and you’ll have your taco.”

“Such confidence,” he remarked with a chuckle.

It was false bravado but you wanted this. You wanted out of your hell hole. So you weren’t about to let him see any of the very real fear that you actually might kill him. in the process.

You let out your power in a giant blast.

You bolted upright, gasping for breath. Black spots clouded your vision but you forced through the waves of dizziness, looking for the one person you couldn’t bear to hurt. He was supposed to have left. Your next breath never came. Bucky’s long limbs spilled over the edges of the chair in the opposite corner of the room, his phone resting on his chest. His eyes were closed, a peaceful look on his face but that didn’t mean anything. The dead often looked at peace.

Then his phone rose and fell with his chest. You held back a sob. Your relief would have sent you tumbling if you hadn’t been sitting. He was alive.

Without your blinding panic, the rest of your room came into focus. He’d left all the clothes you’d strewn over the chair in a neat, folded pile on your dresser. You glanced over at your alarm clock for the time, which was…off. Your dread clenched it’s fist around your stomach. It had been on. So had your air conditioning unit. And where was the constant hum of your ancient refrigerator?

“They’re all fried,” Bucky’s gruff voice came through the silence as if he’d actually been sleeping, “the phone gave a nice little shock when it died. Snapped me out of my sleep that’s for sure.”

Your heart was still trying to hammer its way out of your chest when you said, “You could have gotten hurt. I don’t know how you’re not.”

“I do,” he replied simply, eyes finding yours.

“No, you don’t,.” you shook your head more than you had to, “No, you can’t.”

“I can because I’ve trained with you almost every day since you got here. I know that your gift,” you scoffed at the word but he kept going, “your gift works differently depending on who and what you’re targeting. And I know you don’t target people. Not unless you have to and even then I see that it kills you to do it.”

You looked down at your sheets, hating the way his words resonated through your body, refusing to go away. But you could still ignore it.

“That might be true, but Tony has been making his suits to withstand me. In case I can’t control my powers and they hurt anyone on our side. He might say it’s in case we meet another mutant with powers like mine, but we all know that’s not true.”

“Why can’t it be both?” he huffed then took in a slow breath. It did nothing to hide the growl in his voice when he asked, “None of us are perfect, why do you have to be?”

Because, even as a full grown adult, you were afraid you’d somehow end up back in that orphanage, unloved and unwanted because all you did was ruin things. And you didn’t know what you’d do if you ruined the closest thing you’d ever had to family. Perfect kept you here. Perfect kept you safe.

He stood from the chair, and came to kneel beside your bed. He brushed aside the hair that had stuck to your forehead with sweat, calloused fingers resting gently on your cheek when he was done.

“You’re one of us now” he whispered as if he could read your mind, “and I — we — won’t let you go that easily not matter what you think of your abilities. Even if that means I have to inspect you for cuts and bruises myself after every mission. You are good, YN.”

You could only nod, taken aback by the ferocity in his voice. Still, it didn’t stop you from looking him over head to toe once more just to make sure he was okay. Then you noticed something off with him.

“Where’s your arm?”

He ran his hand through his hair, a sheepish look on his face, “it might have fallen off a few seconds before you woke up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “I hurt you.”

He shook his head fiercely, “you didn’t. I’m fine.”

“But I could have,” you protested.

“But you didn’t,” he said, “you never do. Because despite what you might think, you control this thing inside you and we all trust you with it.”

You were about to object but he stopped you by pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back there was that lopsided little grin on his face that made you realize how light headed you were feeling, “one day we’ll get to a place where you’ll find this funny. I promise.”

And somehow, you believed him.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

[kuromantic]

Tales of Zombish: Haikyuu Light Novel Translation

*This is my translation of the Zombie Knight Zombish snippets from the light novel. It’s split into 5 parts, and inserted between each chapter of the light novel. Don’t copy this to another site. The translation is under the cut!

Zombie Knight Zombish

 1: Zombish is Born!!

Nightfall. A lone swordsman wakes up. A swordsman that does not know of true death, because of experiencing a false death. 

“...Wait, it’s still evening, you stupid crow!” 

The man yells at the small crow beside him, having just woken up by a thin bush. The man’s body was wrapped up in an old, tattered cloth—which must have been a cloak some time ago—which covered his entire body. 

“I could have gotten burned by the setting sun…” The man blocks out the sunlight with the tattered cloth, and the crow caws apologetically. 

“Well, it’s okay. I don’t even have a body that can be burned.” 

The man laughs, and the crow flaps its black wings, flying ahead up into the sky. The man follows it with his gaze, squinting at the brightness. He stands up. 

“Oh, well. Guess I’ll go.” 

The man starts to walk. His frame was thin and delicate, which could be seen even when it was covered with the tattered cloth. And on his back, was a sword. 

The sword, which is large enough to not be recognized as one at first glance, does not suit the lean man. 

“Man, I wonder if a car will pass by… Eh, I guess no sane person would have gasoline now.” 

There’s no road where the man looks ahead. 

In the dead world where smokey, dried up wastelands stretch out for seemingly forever, the man continues to walk alone today.

“Yeah, isn’t this good? Isn’t this good? It sounds like the story’s just begun, right?” 

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, stands up with an excited face and gets another drink from the self-service fountains. He returns to his table with a glass of cola in his hand. He continues working on his storyboard. 

The only equipment on the table is a notebook, a pencil and an eraser. On the open page, there are scribbles that nobody else could decipher. It’s the storyboard Udai made with all his effort. 

I wanna try and make a manga. I like it. With that, Udai had drawn a manga during his college years. And it had won an honourable mention in the rookie awards. He had gotten an editor and debuted as a mangaka. But the reality was, he wasn’t quite reaching serialization. 

But now, “Zombie Knight Zombish”, is being created in the restaurant. And there’s a confidence that hasn’t been there before. 

“‘Everything but death is nothing but a scratch’? He needs to get over himself… No, maybe ‘Mortal bodies, they make me jealous.’...” 

Udai mumbles dialogues to himself, changing his expressions to suit the main character’s. The other customers at the restaurant glance at him. 

But he can’t afford to care about those gazes.

Zombish needs to help the heroine attacked by the enemy, in an extremely cool and overdramatic manner. 

And the enemy has to be a fated opponent that Zombish has known before turning into a zombie. The heroine needs to be a key person, for Zombish to return from zombie to human. And of course, she needs to be cute, a little strong-willed, who tries to join in on the fighting sometimes. But also a girl who you just want to protect…

A flash. 

The girl’s eyes can only capture the white hand, emerging from the tattered cloth and gripping the sword on his back. 

She feels wind brush past her cheeks, and closes her eyes. She opens them again, and the bandits have already collapsed onto the dry ground. 

“Huh? What…?” 

As the girl struggles to comprehend what had happened, Zombish is already starting to walk away. 

“Hey, don’t leave me behind!” 

She grabs the knight. At that moment, the tattered cloth on him rips and falls to the ground. 

What appears is not the handsome knight she expected. Nor a fighter that’s big and well-muscled. It’s a skeleton. 

“...Wait, bone?! Why bone! Bone? Wait, do bones even talk?!” 

“Yeah, I’m bone! So sorry I’m bone, sue me!” 

The knight picks up the truly tattered piece of rag, and hides his body. It truly looks like a skeletal model. He turns his back to the girl. 

“Anyway, I’m bone. So I can’t go with you. Protect yourself, you’re on your own.” 

The “bone”, that had slain a crowd of bandits instantly, tries to walk away from one single girl, as if to escape from her. 

Staring at Zombish’s lanky, weak-looking back and the huge sword on it, the girl shouts over at him. 

“Hey, bone! Can you eat?” 

Zombish turns around, lifts the tattered cloth, and points around his stomach with a laugh. 

“You wanna see me eat? It’s hilarious.” 

“If you don’t eat… That means I don’t have to share my food or water with you, right?”

“Huh?” 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re bone or not, if you can defeat these guys. You’re pretty strong.” The girl points to the iron-clad, muscular bandit with a mohawk. “And I should sew that cloth I ripped back together…” 

Zombish laughs, his hard skull distorting a little. “I’m not strong. Those guys are just small fries. But I guess I’ll have you fix this cloth for me.” 

At those words, the girl runs up to him. 

In the dried-up world of death, two footsteps mark their paths. Up above in the sky, a crow flies around in circles. As if to watch over them. 

Zombish’s journey has just started!! 

“I wonder what my editor will say…” 

 The man, once the “Little Giant”, leaves the restaurant and returns home. And without changing his clothes, collapses into his futon for the first time in a while.

2. VS Editor A!! 

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right?” Akaashi Keiji opens his heavy mouth, holding his coffee in one hand. It makes Akaashi heavy-hearted to meddle with a work an author brought to him. 

Kanda, Chiyoda City, Tokyo. 

In the editorial department of Weekly Shonen Vie, there’s an extreme lack of people in the afternoon. 

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, freezes momentarily in the meeting space. And he attempts to brush it off with a laugh. 

“Yeah, I thought, ‘Is a skeleton okay?’ for a bit. But maybe a Japanese-style zombie would be new, and I thought I could pull it off. We all get cremated in Japan, too. Hahaha.” 

“I see.” 

Akaashi looks at the copy of “Zombie Knight Zombish” on the table, and Udai laughing in front of him. And he says one more time, with force behind his words. That this is the last time he’ll say this, and he won’t say the same thing again. 

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right.” 

The question mark had disappeared. 

It’s not a question, but a confirmation of fact. 

“...Yeah.” Udai replies weakly. He drops his shoulders, and bites the straw of his cola. 

 It’s tough. 

It had been his best work. He had a confidence in it, that he hadn’t before with his other works. But his concept had been fundamentally criticized. 

The editor continues talking to the crestfallen Udai. 

“And one more thing.” 

“...What is it?” 

Udai hunches his shoulders, looking up at Akaashi like a scolded child. Akaashi sips his coffee, adjusts his glasses and lets out a breath. He opens his mouth slowly. 

“We’ve established that a skeleton is not a zombie. But I think this skeleton’s design is a little lacking, in the first place. It’s no different to any old skeleton. For the main character, I want a quirk that will tell you it’s Zombish with just one look.” 

“Any old skeleton?” Udai says, and draws a normal-looking skeleton into his notebook. 

“Yes. For example, he could be wearing glasses, or he could have a large scar. I want a unique design. Even if you draw him simply, you would know it’s him. If I were to ask for more, I’d even say make his silhouette recognizable. That’s how strong his design should be.” 

Udai adds a scar to his skeleton, and mumbles, “I guess it can’t be a scar, if his silhouette has to be recognizable.” 

“The scar is just one example.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

Udai slurps the cola at the bottom of the glass, which is pretty much melted ice. He laughs disappointedly. 

“I thought the skeleton was fine, since he was cremated. Like a Japanese-style zombie. Well, there’s no zombie-ness, I guess…” 

At those words, Akaashi’s glasses shine. 

“Then… How about you make Zombish look more Japanese? It could link with his sword, too.” 

“What?” 

“Well, this is just one what-if scenario.” 

“...No, I think it could work. I’ll think about it! Then maybe he can look different from any old zombie!” Udai grabs his pen, and draws a Japanese-style zombie in his notebook. “If it’s Japanese clothes and a sword, he’d just be a samurai… How do I give him the zombie knight feeling…”

Watching the pen move busily and create many versions of Zombish, Akaashi feels a weight lift from his heart. 

It makes him heavy-hearted to meddle with other people’s works. But sometimes, his words make the author take a step in a good direction. That must be why he can continue with this job. 

“So now, please brush up on the work. And, depending on the edited manuscript, I may bring it up during the serialization meeting.” 

Udai’s pen stops moving. “Wait, why?! You’ve been talking about my work so harshly and tearing into it this whole time!” 

“...I haven’t been tearing into it. It’s entertaining, so I just want to make the story even more entertaining.” 

Udai’s face crumples, as he looks up at Akaashi. “Akaashi-san, you weren’t just an unpleasant person, after all!” 

“I’m an unpleasant person…?” 

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean it that way! I meant it in an um, good way!” 

Akaashi doesn’t ask what exactly he means by that, and organizes the manuscript. “Zombish is very entertaining, compared to the works you have brought me so far. I think you have a chance.” 

“Thank you!” 

“Oh, and lastly…” 

“There’s… still more?” Udai tenses. 

 Akaashi chuckles, before talking. “I’ve been thinking for a while, but this bit on the edge of the page, saying ‘Zombish’s journey has only just begun!’. You don’t need to write that. It’s the editor’s job.” 

“...!!”

4. Get Serialized!! 

It’s just past noon. Noticing that the phone is ringing, Udai reaches out from under the futon. He checks, and realizes it’s Akaashi. He gets out of the futon in a hurry, and answers. 

“You were asleep.” Akaashi says, in the same straightforward tone. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry too. I’m going to get into it. Your one-shot is well-received.” 

At those words, Udai’s hand begins to sweat. He had been told to make a one-shot for the extra issue, and had made “Zombie Knight Zombish” with everything he’d got. 

He had changed Zombish’s design into a young man with patchwork skin, after Akaashi’s critique. He likes the way the bandages show around his collar. It can’t have been a skeleton, he thinks. It’s hard to relate to a skeleton. 

The “recognizable by silhouette” task had been cleared with the axe on his head. The zombie knight element was incorporated, by making him detach his left arm to wield his sword. Maybe they’ll make a movable figure out of the character. 

Above all, it was a work he’d been confident in. If it had still been absolutely hopeless, Udai wouldn’t have been able to recover from it. 

“Thank god…” Udai feels the tension drain out of him, and Akaashi continues. 

“And now, I would like to brush up Zombish to prepare for serialization.” 

“Of course! With pleasure!” Udai answers with gusto, almost like an izakaya employee. 

“Firstly, your heroine.” 

“Yes!” 

I should probably fix up the heroine a bit more, Udai thinks. Make her cuter, better… But Akaashi doesn’t steer the conversation in that direction. 

“In the one-shot, Zombish saves her, and they decide to go on a journey together, and it ends there.” 

“Huh? Oh, yes.” 

“If the one-shot will be chapter one, are they going to be travelling together in chapter two and beyond?” 

It’s not anything fun, like about making the heroine have a good figure or about how revealing her clothes should be. 

And really, Udai hadn’t been thinking what would happen once it got serialized. Well, he supposes it would be like what Akaashi just said. 

“Wouldn’t the readers grow bored of that?” As if to read Udai’s mind, Akaashi says. 

“What?” 

“The main character and the heroine go on a journey together the whole time, an enemy appears, he saves her, he defeats the enemy, and then moves on. And they continue like that until the final boss.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Wouldn’t that bore people?” 

Wait, am I getting given out to? 

No, he’d only been thinking of the one-shot as a base, so he hadn’t set anything beyond that in stone. He had only thought that leaving the readers hoping for more would be enough. 

“...Um, if it’s possible, I’d like to talk about this in person.” Udai says, wiping the sweat off his palms with his t-shirt. 

“All right. When are you free?” 

And so, in the editorial department the day after, the brainstorming session in the meeting space had continued for more than two hours. 

“So then, instead of a heroine that just keeps getting saved…” 

“She’d be like a buddy that also gives witty comebacks.” 

Udai draws a bunch of expressions for the female character. Flustered, angry, glaring… He stops his pen, and looks at Akaashi. 

“Then maybe Zombish will have a goofy side, instead of just being cool?” 

“But please don’t make it into a gag manga. Looking at the survey results, there are a lot of people saying that the manga is interesting because Zombish is cool.” Akaashi answers, looking at the survey chart. 

“I see… Balancing it out is hard.” Udai draws out a bunch of Zombish’s expressions in his notebook, and laughs. “But it’s fun. It feels like I’m making a manga.” 

“It’s good to hear that.” Akaashi smiles for a moment, and continues. “And also, about the enemy. Instead of them being a group of bandits in the harsh world, making them an organization would add depth to the story.” 

“Oh, maybe they’re the reason Zombish turned into a zombie?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Udai’s mood lifts from Akaashi’s acknowledgement, and opens up a page earlier on in his notebook. 

“Look here! The final boss is a fated opponent from before Zombish turned into a zombie. And the heroine is a key person for Zombish to turn back into a human. So I thought right now, maybe the heroine is the daughter of the final boss.” 

In contrast to the excited Udai, Akaashi lets out a low groan of uncertainty. 

“...So what, exactly, is Zombish fighting for?” 

“You always ask questions that can make the whole thing fall apart, Akaashi-san.” 

“Well, isn’t that the most important part?” 

Expanding ideas simple-mindedly is fun. The more he expands, picking up the pieces and making the story coherent will be hell, though. But knowing that, talking about final bosses and rivals is genuinely fun. 

“Secret hideouts are great, aren’t they?” 

“If they’ve taken over this world, isn’t there no need to keep it a secret? Something that would display their power…” 

“A castle!”

7. Secret Technique: Bolster Up! 

Just after serialization, the response had been very good. It had been. Udai had been in a good mood, asking “This will definitely be turned into an anime, right?” 

But now, it had gotten to a point where they couldn’t let it get any lower on the survey rankings. 

“........” 

“Are you okay?” Akaashi’s senior sees him with his head in his hands, and speaks to him. 

“...Oh, yes.” 

“It’s about Zombish, right? You should bolster it up with something. Like, with a pretty girl or a handsome guy,” the senior says. “Well, I don’t know.” He returns to his seat, after saying his part. 

“Bolster it up…” 

Akaashi’s brows knit together. 

Would that be enough? Could such a hasty, superficial solution entertain the readers? Well, the current results point to the fact that they’re not entertained. But even so, shouldn’t they be charming the audience with the protagonist’s appeal, or how interesting the story is? 

“The protagonist’s appeal, huh…” 

But what are the features of a protagonist that will be loved? 

What kind of story makes the readers want to come back for more? 

“.....” 

It would be the anticipation the readers have for the main character. What will happen next week? What will he show us next? Expectations as such. There must have been a lack of absolute protagonist strength, if he thinks about it. 

But that was the result of trying to create a dark fantasy, painting a delicate picture of emotions. Precisely because it was an absurd world with a zombie knight appearing in it. Was that what they had done wrong? Was it impossible for his literature department-aspiring self to make an entertaining manga, after all…?

After pondering for a long time, Akaashi lifts his head with a start. 

“....!” 

Wait a minute. 

Am I making the same mistake again? 

Am I thinking I could control the author and the readers? 

“...No. Pour your spirit into each ball, pour your spirit into each ball…” 

Yes. Focus on the next point, the next ball. Focus on this week’s story, the obstacle the protagonist must overcome. 

His desk becomes messier each day, as if to reflect inside his heart. Akaashi closes his eyes, and focuses his mental state. 

“Don’t think about what’s easy, think about what’s fun. What’s fun…” 

The survey rankings going down, getting discontinued isn’t fun. Then what is he meant to do…?

“Give feedback… Connect it to the next step… The next…” 

The seniors look at Akaashi worriedly, in front of the printer. 

“Akaashi is muttering to himself again, is he okay? He won’t quit, will he?” 

“He always comes back to life afterwards, you can leave him alone.” 

“Yep.”

“I want an absolute, strong main character.” Akaashi says to Udai, during their meeting. 

“Absolute?” 

“Yes. Like a star that hits any ball with his utmost ability.” 

“Am I going to get discontinued?!” 

Udai stands up with a clatter, face growing pale. Akaashi shakes his head quietly. 

“...Please calm down. It’s not getting discontinued, yet.” 

“...Yet…” Udai shrinks, and sits back down. 

“It’s a tough situation, but let’s turn things around.” 

They’re burning their bridges behind them. 

On the walls around the meeting space, there are many posters of works that had been turned into anime and movies. And the cardboard boxes blocking the corridor are packed with samples of goods. 

They have to join the ranks of those popular works, at all cost…!

Akaashi brings his gaze back to Udai, and starts to summarize the things he had thought about for the past week. 

“The main character… Zombish is a ‘star’. The readers have expectations for the star. What will he do next? What awesome moves will he show us? What kind of crazy risks will he take?

“We want the main character to amaze us with unexpected, yet charming actions. Whether Zombish sinks or swims will depend on how he overcomes next week’s desperate situation.” 

Akaashi lifts the paper bag on the floor. “And there’s a favour I want to ask from you.” 

“What’s this? I was wondering about it for a while.” The paper bag handed to him is unexpectedly heavy. Udai glances inside. “A blu-ray?” 

“Yes. I picked out swashbuckler films of all types, that have useful scenes for composition and pose references. At this point, we should take in anything cool and flashy.” 

“Thank you!”

“Also, it will be hard for you to watch it all, so I wrote the times for scenes I want you to watch.” Akaashi gives him a note. 

“I’ll definitely watch it! I’ll use them as references!” 

“I’ll do anything I can as well. Let’s both try our best.” 

There’s no way Akaashi can control what story the author will bring to him, what the other works will be like, how the readers will react. 

So, he should think about what he can do, what he should do. 

Avoiding discontinuation— it’s hard, but it shouldn’t be impossible.

10. Our fight has only just begun! 

“Zombish is getting discontinued… You have seven chapters left…” 

After getting the phone call informing him of the discontinuation, Udai had gone outside. Staying in his room felt too painful. But why, and how he’d come to the editing department, he doesn’t remember. 

Akaashi had been taken aback, after Udai had come without contacting him. But one look at his face, and he knew he couldn’t leave him by himself. And so he had taken him to a nearby coffee shop to talk to him. It was just his luck that he hadn’t gone outside the company. 

“Please order anything you like.” 

Akaashi gives the menu to Udai sitting opposite to him, but Udai drops it onto the table, not having enough energy to hold it. 

Akaashi pulls the menu closer to himself, trying not to show his shock. “Is coffee all right, then?” 

“........” 

There’s no answer, but Akaashi asks for two cups of coffee from the waiter. He chooses his words carefully, and begins to speak. 

“We had unfortunate results this time, but…” Akaashi continues, to the dejected Udai. “And as a suggestion from me…”

“........”

“I would like to get a fresh start with a new work. We should solidify the concept more for your next work, and compete with a work only you can make.” 

“Next…?” Udai raises his head at last, only to slam it back into the table. “There’s nothing! There’s no such thing that only I can make!” He lifts his crumpled face, and yells. 

“That’s not true. There must be something…”

“It is too! There’s nothing!”

Akaashi can only bite his lip, while his assigned author descends into total panic. 

What should he do…

He can’t just say “Bye, then,” and leave him feeling downcast. He had wanted to part ways with him in a positive manner, connecting him to the next step. That might just be his own ego talking, though.

“...I’m sure there’s a good theme for you. Is there anything you liked as a child, or something you put your heart into?” 

“I’m just a jack-of-all-trades, average guy. I’ve just gotten by in regards to study, sports, art and music…” 

When Udai had been in good form, he had preened about it, saying “I can do pretty much anything!”, but now he’s totally dejected. Well, that can’t be helped. He’s getting discontinued, after all. 

The only thing Akaashi can do, is to tell him his completely honest thoughts. 

“I don’t think a serialized author is just a jack-of-all-trades, average person.” 

“I’m not a serialized author anymore, I’m a discontinued author…”

At that moment, the waiter arrives. He shows a slightly intrigued face at Udai’s words, but immediately puts on his professional face and turns on his heels. 

Akaashi takes the cup, and inhales the aroma of coffee to calm himself down. He thinks. Maybe he should make some small talk, and change the mood. 

What should he talk about? Not about his work, or about what lays ahead. Then, about Udai himself? He wonders what he had talked about with him recently. What club had he joined in college? Where was he from? 

And he remembers. 

“Udai-san, you told me before that you’re from Tohoku. Were there any unusual traditions there? That you can write a manga about.” 

“...Yeah, I’m from Miyagi. But I lived in a normal estate, it was all pretty normal.” 

Udai says with a hoarse voice, and absentmindedly puts sugar cubes into his coffee. Many, many sugar cubes. Akaashi thinks he’s adding a bit too much, but there’s an atmosphere around them that makes him unable to say that. 

“Well, maybe where I live is in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to you. You’re from Tokyo, after all.” 

“That’s not…”

Akaashi thinks that Udai is getting a little too dejected with him, but he can’t be blamed. “Zombie Knight Zombish” is Udai’s first serialization, and his first discontinuation. 

Food, sleep… Udai had sacrificed such human necessities, and yet his work had not been well-received. Of course he would be dejected. 

And as a new employee, “Zombie Knight Zombish” was Akaashi’s first work that he had launched from nothing. Due to being emotionally invested in it, Akaashi had felt deeply disappointed about the decision made for Zombish. 

Which is exactly why he had wanted to end it on a positive note. Surely there’s something in common with them, that they can talk about…

Akaashi, feeling cornered, opens his mouth. And starts to talk about something unexpected, even to himself.

“...Actually, I have someone I know in Miyagi. It was in relation to the club I was in during high school.” 

“I see.” 

Udai stirs his coffee with lifeless eyes, not picking up the conversation at all. He doesn’t even drink the coffee that is surely too sweet. 

“........” 

Of course. Someone else’s high school years is the most irrelevant subject to Udai right now. But really, what should he do? Telling someone they’re being discontinued, and thinking of what happens afterwards, is a first for Akaashi. And it’s a big job. He isn’t sure what the correct thing to do is. 

Akaashi falls silent, and Udai opens his mouth. “...What club were you in, during high school?”  He asks, not sounding that interested. It feels more like he asked out of obligation, because there was a break in the conversation. 

Akaashi feels regret, after realizing he’s made Udai read the room for him. But at the same time, he feels relieved that some of Udai’s energy has come back. 

“Volleyball.” 

“I see. I did volleyball, too.” Udai says. “During my years, we went to the Spring High nationals, too.” 

At those words, Akaashi places the coffee he had lifted back onto the table. 

“Oh, me… too.” 

“Really?! That’s amazing, Akaashi-san!” 

“No, you too.” 

And with a light premonition, Akaashi asks. “...Which school did you attend in Miyagi?” 

“It’s not a powerhouse, so I don’t know if you’d know…” Udai laughs, before answering. “It’s called Karasuno.”

Please look forward to Udai-sensei’s next work, “Meteo Attack”! 

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞

❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞

❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞

❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞

❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞

❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞

❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞

❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞

❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞

❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞

❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞

❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞

❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞

❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞

❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞

❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞

❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞

❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞

❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞

❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞

❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞

❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞

❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞

❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞

❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞

❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞

❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞

❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞

❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞

❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞

❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞

❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞

❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞

❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞

❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞

❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞

❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞

❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞

❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞

❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞

❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞

❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞

❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞

❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞

❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞

❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞

❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞

❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞

❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞

❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞

❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞

❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞

❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞

❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞

❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞

❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞

❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞

❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞

❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞

❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞

❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞

❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞

❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞

❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞

❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞

❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞

❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞

❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞

❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞

❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞

❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞

❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞

❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞

❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞

❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞

❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞

❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞

❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞

❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞

❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞

❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞

❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞

❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞

❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞

❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞

❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞

❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞

❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞

❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞

❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞

❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞

❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞

❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞

❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞

❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞

❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞

❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞

❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞

❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞

❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞

❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞

❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞

❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞

❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞

❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞

❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞

❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞

❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞

❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞

❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞

❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞

❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞

❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞

❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞

❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞

❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞

❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞

[shadowworks]

Observe: Part One

Pairing: Dabi x f!Reader

Warnings: Bloodplay, hair pulling, violent themes, dubcon themes. No smut in this chapter, but expect it in the next part.

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: This fic is written in third person, but it’s still DabixReader. I’ve always written in third, and it’s just my favourite style. I hope you enjoy! :)

Edit: @pleasantanathema THANK YOU BABE!! You made me a banner just cause you love me, and I’m so emotional! It’s wonderful and I love it!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Summary: She hadn’t insulted him. Not intentionally, at least. All she said was he had Endeavor’s eyes—which to him might as well have been an insult.

But this was a lesson she’d learn the hard way with a villain like Dabi.

She’d occasionally receive a message from former clients on her phone, always someone connected with the criminal network. On the occasion, if she needed more income she’d accept a brightly lit offer on her screen, tapping her thumbs in a quick reply. But for the most part, she managed to distance herself from smuggling trades.

It was a matter of time before her name would disappear from the mouths of villains, from the prowlers who made use of her quirk. From the distraught beggars pleading on their knees for another loan. Subtly, she’d untie herself from the web she spun herself into three years ago.

Well, maybe. She hoped.

These things were hard to tell.

A shot of tequila ghost her bottom lip as she fell in thought. Her elbow perched on the glossy counter and a glass held between her thumb and two fingers.

The soft glow of violet lights filtered from the ceiling and dimmed the room. People mingled at tables, peals of high pitched laughter broke out, a chair screeching across the hardwood floor - and she was alone at the bar counter.

It was fine. She wasn’t often among friends. There’s danger in her line of work, and for those reasons she didn’t try to be involved. Too much collateral damage and all that jazz.

The bartender crossed her line of sight again. He looked a tad confused at her vacant stare and full glass, but she paid him little mind. She stared on towards the glass bottles aligning the bar wall.

“You have no idea how easy you made this.” the voice had come from her left. She pulled herself from her thoughts, turning to a low voice.

There was a man there, sitting two stools down from her seat. He was leaning forward on the counter, long limbs crossed in a careless manner. He looked as though he didn’t want to be there.

Still, a shot glass sat in front of him, his liquor of choice a darker shade than hers. He just ordered. She hadn't even noticed him come up to the bar. Was she that lost in thought?

“What?” She eventually asked, squinting her eyes.

He wouldn’t turn his head and his stitched hand grasped the glass in front to leisurely toss back. The glass softly touched the polished wood upside down, soundless.

“You stand out too much.” He finally said. The black spikes of hair tilted down as he cocked his head to her, grinning a little too mischievously. There was an arrogance to him and it brimmed in a pair of bright teal eyes. “But I wonder if you like that.”

She smiled bitterly, raising her glass like a toast, “Depends who notices.”

She tipped the shot back in her mouth, feeling it burn the whole way down. She flipped her glass upside down and her features contorted. There was a loud clunk when she tapped her class to the polished wood.

The smuggler reached for a charcoal jacket laying on the stool beside her, before stepping off the tall seat. She hardly flirted much really, and when she did it was on more festive occasions diving three shots of tequila deep. It certainly wasn’t after a smuggling trade near the outskirts. But she’d admit, there was an attractive appeal to him. She just couldn’t place it. Maybe it was how he carried his shoulders? His high cheekbones? She let her gaze fall over him while she slid her arm into the sleeve of the jacket.

”If you’re suggesting what I think you're suggesting, I have to say no. You’re easy on the eyes, but…” She offered another half-hearted smile, while she strolled his way toward the exiting door. She didn’t plan on finishing the sentence.

He wasn’t deterred from his plan. He seemed to like that as a staple tugged the corner of his mouth, and his eyes narrowing slightly. Once she neared his leaning figure, all too sudden; a hand shot out and seized her wrist. She halted— her sight falling to her arm, then up to his face, startled.

“I am, huh?” The man in black stood at full height, pulling her forward to leer upon her features. “I’m not so sure you know what's going on in my head. In fact, I’m not sure you even know how much trouble you’re in .”

Her fingers slowly clenched in a fist, ready to flex in response if she had to. For now, she steadied her composure like she taught herself.

“Trouble? I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what you're talking about,” she said.

“I’ve heard of gem smugglers using their quirk for gain. They’re usually fake as hell, but yours look like the real thing. Maybe they are, but I imagine you wouldn’t want anyone hearing about this, would you?”

Her stare was pinned by his immediately.

He knew her secret.

He just wasn’t prepared for her to know his.

***

They sauntered through narrow side streets in the dark, keeping at decent pace. It was perhaps the easiest way through the city as they made their way towards a (tauntingly) vague end-of-the-line. His hideout, she guessed.

His name was Dabi, a member of the League of Villains. He revealed that much at the bar. It didn’t take long for her to cooperate with her own kidnapping once he whispered his burning threats.

Dabi kept her close, letting his shoulders fall back with hands in his coat pockets. He would sometimes steer her away from strangers nearing the same path though. He’d hold her by the elbow or the small of her back, making them look connected like they were a couple. She didn’t like this. She’d glare at her feet every time, and play the role of the upset girlfriend to Dabi’s facade.

When he did it again, she silently shrugged his heated hand off her arm. Dabi sneered.

“Oh come on, are you throwing a fit?”

She wouldn’t answer, preferring to glower at their striding feet. It was odd noticing they both shared a similar taste in black boots. Except hers hugged tighter and raised high to the knees.

Dabi waited a beat, tilting his head to look over her downcast features. When he found what he was searching for he smirked, glancing away.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, you know. Why bother pouting like a stubborn brat?”

”I’m not. I’m just...” she paused, breathing out steadily. She needed to remind herself to stay calm. “I still don’t understand your bosses reasoning for bringing me in.”

She felt a grip hold onto her shoulder, and she turned her head. Dabi’s nimble steps had slowed to a stop, and he twisted her body to face his. For a moment, Dabi let his hand stay on her jacket.

He said her name out loud and mulled it over briefly. It wasn’t every day some young crook was behind a scheme like this. In fact, the whole thing seemed interesting.

“Heh, don’t take this the wrong way, but I wasn’t expecting you’d have a pretty face.”

”What does that have—“

“I’ve heard your name mentioned around the gambling rings from time to time—”

“—And I haven’t sold anything to the gambling rings in over a year,” She said firmly, though her stare dropped to look anywhere else. She didn’t like the quirked smile he gave after.

“But you kept selling shit on the black market?”

”I was done with it. I made enough to keep me off the streets, and I left.”

”Right. That’s not what the Yakuza said.”

She snapped her head up. Dabi had struck a nerve.

”What does that matter? Why is Shigaraki kidnapping a has-been gem smuggler? You said it yourself—he doesn’t care about the money!”

She wasn’t expecting he’d reach for her face, and she flinched as warm fingers pressed on her temple, tugging on her eyebrow with his left thumb.

In the hairs of her brow shined tiny round quartz; clear and clean with three grown on each side. A manifestation of her quirk. Dabi might have mistaken them for a fashion trend if he hadn’t known better.

“Oh, but you do more than that,” he countered. The pad of his thumb began brushing against the hard gem in her skin. “They say you have an ice quirk, but that’s not it, is it? I think you can shoot these little guys from your body like glass.”

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t want to. All she did was study his face. He was scarred with dark burn marks marring the flesh. Staples pinned old wounds to his smoother skin...She didn’t want to know what torture he dealt with to be branded so cruelly. But it wasn’t what kept her staring. No, it’s just that his teal eyes managed to be the most startling feature about him. They looked rather bright, beautiful even. Something quite rare.

Dabi likely felt her gaze flick over his features a little too long as he released her. He must have made his point. And for good measure, he gave her a light shove to make her walk forward once more.

“You’re assuming too much.” she mumbled after catching her footing. She didn’t care if Dabi heard.

They still had some distance to tread, and eventually Dabi’s route led to a crosswalk. There was hardly anyone around, allowing the signal to flash a light green. Dabi’s palm found the small of her back again, pressing his fingers close on her spine. Her arms crossed over her chest in the moment, glaring off to the side.

But something caught her eye.

Her chin tilted up toward a tv, the illuminating screen was built into the skyscraper nearby. The video clips were from today’s broadcast; it showed a familiar man of fire. He was a Pro Hero; the best one in the business—well, now that All Might was retired he was. A massive man with fierce red hair and flame licking at his upper lip and clenched jaw to form facial hair. As he looked off in the distance from the camera, the quality lens focused on his cold and stern eyes. They were a bright teal.

She didn’t break her gaze ‘til they reached the end of the crosswalk. By then, something was reeling in her mind. She recognized a particular pattern in his facial features, or was it a coincidence? It must be. And yet. She took a concentrated glance up toward Dabi taking in the beautiful hue in his sharp gaze peering on. Then she glanced back ahead.

“You have the same eyes,” she said all of a sudden.

Dabi raised a brow. He didn’t fully turn to her, though he was listening closely. “Say what, now?”

“Your eyes. They look the same as Endeavor’s. You both have these handsome blue eyes and…”

She paused quickly, a slight heat tinted her nose—“You, umm, you don’t see that often.”

Dabi didn’t say anything, but his figure went tense at the arms.

“In fact...you really only see someone with the same  pair of eyes if they’re related, like,” She paused to whirl and face Dabi. Then, and only then, did she take in the silent rage creeping across his dark, narrow expression. In cold and stern eyes, she made a realization.

“Like father and son.”

It was silent as they came to a stop. She waited; waited on Dabi to disrupt the creeping tensity. She expected a fist to the jaw, or maybe an eager lick of flame on the offense. Something. Instead, Dabi settled and loosened his posture. His threatening features, which paused on her body swept away as they shifted ahead.

“Keep walking.” He said. He gave another push to her shoulder blade, hard this time. She did as she was told and took a couple stuttered steps but she wouldn’t let up.

“He’s your father, isn’t he?”

Dabi said nothing.

“He’s the number one Hero—but you’re a villain? Is he that terrible? He must be if he ruined his kid.”

Dabi said nothing, but his fingers twitched.

She was feeling spite rising in her throat. Her thoughts unraveled before she could think, and she smiled coldly beside him.

“And for what? Because daddy didn’t love you? Were you not good enough?”

She felt a hand grip her hair and a push. Then the collision of cement with a hard smack.

A bloody taste pooled in her mouth, spreading warmly on her bottom lip. Her cheekbone was throbbing, blindingly white throbbing. A searing pain flared across her inflicted wound and up to her temple.

“Ah no, looks like you tripped there, doll face. You really should be careful.”

Dabi was on her already, turning and slamming her back into the wall. Before she could register anything beyond her pulsing cheekbone, the villain squeezed one hand on her shoulder and the other remained threaded in her hair.

“Now, that was stupid,” Dabi said, his face leering an inch from hers, his teal eyes on full display.

Once the last spotty star in her eyes faded, she fixated on him, managing to crack a weak smile. Blood darkened her lip as she nodded, “Yeah, it was. It really was. I should have stopped talking.”

There was a small pull at his lips in amusement. For his own reasons, the fingers tangled in her locks tugged her closer. “You know, I was planning to wait until you settled in. But now I’ve changed my mind.”

His thumb slowly traced across her lower lip, coating his pad red. His voice dropped low, eerily casual, “I think I’ll fuck you here. Teach you a lesson on keeping your mouth shut, and minding your damn business.”

The smuggler’s stomach fluttered. “Wait, wha-!”

Dabi yanked on the mess of hair collected in his fist, causing her mouth to drop in a silent scream. He acted fast. His lips crashed down on hers. He was vicious, taking the air out from her lungs in a hard kiss. The taste of iron spread through their mouth, their saliva, and he inhaled harsh breathes between sucking of her tongue.

She could barely catch up. Every time she pulled back to breathe, Dabi chased after her lips, banging her head to the concrete behind. It was dizzying, hazy, though she did this to herself. She sparked a wild flame and he retaliated. He was pissed.

She felt him hoist her up by the thigh and he slammed her back to the wall a second time. She cried out. He crushed her mouth, which now wad smeared with sticky blood. He forced her to swallow her throbbing pain; she’d scream when he wanted her to scream.

Dabi was able to press his body between her legs. He rolled his bulge against her core, and her lips parted shakily as he hit the right spot. A tingling heat ached at her core. Oh fuck. His hand was burning at this point, it raked against her outer thigh, sinking his fingertips into her hips.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Her mind raced desperately. He felt good. No, she couldn’t do this. Not with the stitched up fucker who stole her from the bar.

Just before Dabi’s hand could hike up her tight skirt, enough oxygen flooded her brain to think straight. The gem smuggler flicked her gaze to the alley diagonal from them.

They lingered.

And then, her hand smacked the back of Dabi’s neck.

”Dabi, wait, wait. Let me say something, ” she breathlessly pleaded, allowing her forehead to rest against his. ”Dabi, I want--I want to say something.”

“Unless you’re screaming my name, I can’t say I’m all that interested.”

Her eyes slid shut, feeling his chest fall up and down against hers. He was stalling for breath, it was the only reason he complied.

“You were right, earlier. That’s how I made a name for myself in the blackmarket.” As she spoke, the tips of her fingers slowly crystalized. They took the shape of tiny claws, creeping forward little by little, “I made the gems by using my quirk.”

She listened as his breathing returned somewhat to a steady rhythm. There was only the sound of cars gliding down the road in the distance.

“Is that right?”

His burnt arm reached behind his neck and feeling his palm wrap around her fingers—she knew it was too late.

Her eyes snapped open to see Dabi smirking, “You must think you’re pretty slick.”

Damn, he was too fast. But then again, so was she.

“Well, it was worth a try,” she replied.

And she released her quirk.

Dabi’s ears perked at the cracking of glass, and let go before they slashed his palm, dipping to the ground—Shards of quartz shot out in a broken explosion. The gem smuggler fled.

Her boots pounded into the road as she sprinted for the shadows in the alley across the way, ignoring the shards littering down her body. Her pounding footsteps continued to echo through the darkness.

Dabi was alone when he stood up, teal eyes trained on the alley. What a little bitch. How irritating. But it was alright, he’d come for her. He didn’t mind playing a quick game of cat and mouse before he claimed her rough and bloody. Whatever choices she made, she would come to regret them.

Following after her, Dabi’s steps were calculated as he made his way toward the alley. He stopped to glare ahead.

“Run all you want, doll. It makes no difference.”

He picked up his steps and he ran without a sound.

She only wished she had learned that silence wasn’t her friend.

[randomfandomimagine]

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 2: Catch Up

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

.

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: A few disclaimers about the series. One: this is a first draft and some little things may change, and also forgive any typos as I will be editing the series more during the second draft. Secondly, I’m not a hardcore DC fan so I might get some things about the characters wrong, bear with me with that.

Anyway, here’s chapter two, I hope you like it! Things are starting to really set into motion and after this chapter they get a little crazy, even more so than at the end of this one. 

Remember to give this some love, please reblog and leave feedback! It would make my week! 🙏💜

His feet rhythmically drag along the ground, shuffling as he sways and snaps his fingers. The music loudly plays in his earphones, drowning out the sound of the elevator as it comes to a halt. He can’t hear the soft murmur of voices as the Justice League chats in the Batcave, reunited there one more day. The dark room feels brighter as he walks further into it and the team comes into his field of vision.

“Clap along if you feel…” Barry nods his head along to the song and points to Victor. “Like happiness is the truth”

Victor stares at him, frowning in confusion. He makes to lift his hands and clap, but ultimately doesn’t. He only glances at Diana, who chuckles at Barry’s good mood.

Bruce calmly makes a gesture, asking for Barry to remove his earphones. When he does, letting them fall and hang off his shirt’s neckline, he grins.

“Good morning!” He cheerfully says, but the group doesn’t reply. “What?”

After a brief pause and a few glances, it is Bruce who speaks up.

“Who’s the girl?”

“What girl?”

“You’re singing...” Arthur eyes the boy. “And dancing”

“So? Can’t I just be happy in this beautiful day?”

“There’s definitely a girl” His friend insists. “Spit it out”

Barry pouts and looks at each of them. The way they fondly stare at him fluster him a little, but he doesn’t really mind talking about her. In fact, it feels like a good thing to share his excitement with his friends.

“Her name’s Steph” Barry sighs with a dreamy sigh, but hurriedly corrects himself when he sees their even fonder expressions. “I-It’s nothing like that, though”

“What is it like then?” Diana asks, grinning in amusement.

“We’re old friends, but we haven’t seen each other in… like… more than ten years” Barry takes deep breath, overwhelmed by that rush again as he remembers the moment he spotted Stephanie Williams. “It was so cool to see her again”

“Why did you grow apart?” Clark wonders, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did your lives go different ways?”

“Not exactly…” Barry suddenly grows bleak, overcome with frantic memories.

That dreadful day in which all happened and he never saw her again. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, and all the things left unsaid still burn intensely inside him. Knowing that is all part of the past now and he will se her soon, he forces to forget about it.

Knowing the other noticed his brief change of demeanor, he claps his hands and changes the subject.

“But anyway! What are we doing today? Anything new?”

“Maybe” Bruce responds, even if he sends a quick look at the rest with the corner of his eye. “There have been some strange things happening around”

“Like what?”

“Glitches and minor crimes” Victor projects an image on the air, of a map of the surveilled cities with some red spots on them that mark the occurrences. “They’re all over the cities”

“Something bad?” Barry frowns, his eyes scanning the map.

“Nothing big, but we want to keep an eye out” Clark nods. “Just in case”

“Should we check it out?” The boy asks him, earning another nod from him.

“It won’t hurt” Bruce adds to, tapping the table in anticipation.

“Let’s suit up then” Barry speeds off, always bearing Stephanie in mind despite it all.

And so the Justice League prepares to exit the Batcave on a small routine mission.

_

When she looks at the clock, it’s already past 3pm. Stephanie clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and rushes to gather her things. She doesn’t want to be late.

“Bye, Ben!” Stephanie is almost at the door when he replies.

“Where are you going?” Ben does a double take, not believing his eyes when he looks at the clock. “You’re not staying late?”

“Do I…?” She mutters hesitantly. “Do I have to?”

“No, no” He fondly chuckles. “It’s just odd, do you have anything else to do?”

“Actually…” Stephanie can’t help but to grin, even if eager butterflies release in her stomach once more. To hide her thrill, she looks down and plays with her hands. “I’m meeting an old friend and… I’m honestly really excited to see him again”

“Oh, that explains it” Ben warmly grins. “Well, have fun!”

“Thanks!” Stephanie grins, bearing that wide genuine smile she showed the other day.

As he watches his coworker run off like a child on an adventure, Ben’s smile slowly fades as her previous presence now leaves room for a cold empty absence. A tiny pang of jealousy prickles the back of his neck.

_

Lazy clouds cover the sun, attempting to shadow its light. They threaten to flood the sky in darkness more and more with each passing second. Still, the day feels brighter than most. At least to Stephanie.

She rhythmically hits her nails against the glass surface of the table. Her eyes are directed to the door one more. Where is he? A heavy weight has settled in her chest. She chews on her fingernails. What if he doesn’t show up?

Soon enough, Barry comes barging in, out of breath and looking disheveled. He’s late, but he’s there. The girl stands up and takes a deep breath of relief.

“Hi” She greets him, earning an apologetic smile from him.

“I’m so sorry, Steph” He hurries to the table, nervously combing his hair with his fingers. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had”

“It’s okay” Despite his lateness, he notices, she’s smiling. Barry awkwardly chuckles as they both stand there.

Stephanie bites her lip, wondering how to act around him. Time has cooled their once close and nonchalant relationship, but she is determined to warm up to it again. Although they have known each other since they were little, they feel like strangers at the same time. They don’t know the other anymore, but they’re adamant on changing that. Besides, she still feels as comfortable with him as before, like not a day as gone by.

“Well, hi” Barry opens his arms, going on for a hug, just at the same time that Stephanie is leaning close to him in order to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Noticing this, they awkwardly pull away between embarrassed chuckles. In the end, and after a few more seconds of stuttering and fidgeting, Barry finally holds his hand out. Stephanie smiles and shakes it.

Happily plopping down on the chair, he sighs and stares at her. When she sits down in front of him, her fingers absently trace across the edge of the table that separates them. The tension looms above their heads until he breaks it with his cheerful energy.

“Stephanie Williams” Barry says in awe, fondly tilting his head and peering at her.

“Barry Allen” She reciprocates, smiling as the name of her beloved friend fills her lips.

“So talk to me, Steph, um…” He puckers his lips in a thoughtful gesture. “How’s your day going?”

“Good, it’s good so far…” She nods, not knowing what else to say. “And yours?”

“Great! A bit frantic, but… good” He bites his lips, awkwardly lingering as well. “Good...”

“Tell me!” Barry starts. “What have you been doing? I haven’t since you since...”

“Since we moved to Metropolis...”

“Well, yeah... I never really found out why that happened”

“My parents insisted on leaving Central City” Stephanie gravely nods, averting her eyes. “They said what happened with your mom was affecting me too much”

Barry quiets, watching her with a frown. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t find the right words to express the extent and variety of his current feelings.

“I’m so sorry…” He drags his hand across the table, reaching out to pat hers as it now rests on the surface of the table. However, and after a second of hesitation, Barry decides not to touch her. “I had no idea…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Barry. You were having a hard time already”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’s okay, I just… I hated seeing you suffer like that”

The two lock gazes, and an unnamed emotion shines in both their eyes. Like a wave has washed out all the deeply buried memories, a weight settles on their shoulders. One that they had been carrying since childhood and they had nearly forgotten about. Now it has returned, just like that. In only a second.

Trying to brush it off, Stephanie smiles. Like the gesture makes him happy, he grins too.

“So how is your dad?” She asks in a friendly tone. Barry’s smile slowly fades, only to be replaced with a melancholic frown. Stephanie is hit with realization. “Oh, so he’s still… I’m so sorry, Barry… I thought…”

It had been years since that terrible thing happened, and knowing of his innocence Stephanie hoped the situation would have changed by now. She’s unfortunately wrong. The girl groans in frustration, mentally scolding herself for not having thought about that possibility before speaking. Barry shakes his head and mindlessly waves his hand in the air. He smiles again, although this time it’s obviously a facade.

“It’s okay” Barry says, but he can’t hide the sad hint to his expression. “I go see him almost every day”

“Is he doing okay?” She cautiously asks, knowing how hard the situation must be for the two of them.

“For the most part, yeah…” His crestfallen look breaks her heart, and so Stephanie wrecks her head to find a more light-headed subject to talk about.

“O-Order” She rushes to say, holding her hand up in the air to catch the waitress attention. “We should order something to drink”

Barry chuckles at her attempt, nodding his head in silent agreement. When the waiter arrives, it’s the girl that speaks for the both of them.

“Um, yeah, hi” She looks up at the blond waiter. “I’ll have a coffee and he’ll have a chocolate milkshake”

“I’m not a child anymore, Steph” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I can order my own chocolate milkshake”

Stephanie laughs out loud, surprised by his retort. Barry fondly grins at her reaction.

_

Their shared chocolate milkshake has nearly run out. The cream at the top has melted as the liquid reaches the bottom of the container. Their identical pink frosted sprinkled donuts are half eaten, left forgotten in their small plates for the time being.

“Oh, hey!” Barry utters, changing the subject from his criminal justice major. “Did you get your own lab yet?”

Barry lets go of his red and white straw once he’s done sipping while Stephanie absently plays with hers.

“No…” She pouts a little, soon recovering part of her usual spark. “But I’m an intern at STAR Labs”

“That’s great!” He gulps, nearly chocking on the milkshake. “That brings you a step closer!”

“Yeah, I guess… I’m just so impatient to get there”

“You’ll get there” He carelessly waves his hand in the air. “I’ve got no doubts about it”

Stephanie smiles, feeling that once familiar warmth spread through her. There’s that unconditional support he showed her years ago. They haven’t talked in so long, but his unwavering faith on her hasn’t shifted.

A silence establishes after, although the frequency and intensity of them has lessened over the course of the afternoon. She picks up tiny pieces of the donut with her fingers and puts them in her mouth. Barry, meanwhile, absently nibbles on his donut, letting his eyes wander around the quaint establishment, before he boldly pipes up again.

“Are you seeing someone?” Stephanie chokes on the crumbs on her mouth at Barry’s question.

“What?” She coughs, sipping the last of the milkshake to shove the crumbs down.

“Sorry, I…” He chuckles, trying to conceal his amusement. “I was just wondering…”

Stephanie chuckles too, more surprised by the question than offended that he’s so obviously trying not to laugh at her.

“Well?” He says, bearing a playful tone that she had dearly missed. “Answer the question, Steph!”

“Actually… no” She shrugs a little, embarrassed to admit it. “It’s been a bit hard to connect with people”

“How so?” Barry turns serious once more, frowning as he intently listens.

“I don’t know… I’m just trying to pick up where I left off and…”

Stephanie leaves the sentence hanging in the air, but she doesn’t need to complete it. Barry nods. He understands what she means, even in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Well, you’re in luck, miss Williams” He says in a silly voice. “Because I am here to save the day”

“My hero” Stephanie replies, placing a hand on her chest in feigned bewilderment.

They both smile at each other, lingering on their reciprocated gazes. The spark between them has been rekindled, and they can feel it softly beating in their hearts.

_

It is with great sadness that they must say goodbye. They can’t stay there forever, as much as they’d like to. Still, it’s a bit easier to say farewell knowing they have each other’s numbers now and will meet again soon. They get up from the chairs slowly, putting the moment off as much as they possibly can.

Barry takes the jacket for her, holding it in the air to make it easier for Stephanie to put it on. She smiles, endeared by the chivalrous gesture, and shoves her arms on the sleeves.

“Thank you” Stephanie says as he also holds the door open for her.

The air outside is slightly chilly, and the clouds have darkened in the sky, perhaps announcing a storm. Reeling in the rush that still lingers from the lovely soiree with Barry, Stephanie looks up, unfazed by the gray clouds gathering before the sun. When she peers down again, she catches Barry’s eye.

“Barry” She laughs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You did change” He replies with a frown, although it’s not exactly a sad one.

“How have I changed?”

“I don’t know… there’s something about you”

“Wisdom and maturity?”

“Maybe…” Barry smiles, hiding his actual thoughts. Ever since they were reunited, he has noticed a certain tint of sadness hanging over Stephanie. He doesn’t dwell too much on it, though, because it’s been slowly fading away as the afternoon advances.

“What about you? You’re not so shy anymore”

“Oh, I’m still shy” The shadow that had darkened his expression disappears, replaced with his usual affable expression. “I just hide it better”

“Are you sure you’re not just shy but you’re too embarrassed to admit it?”

“I’m pretty sure” Barry is replying, grinning as he sees her smiling. “I’m...”

He then trails off, never finishing his sentence. Something’s wrong, he can feel it. His eyes are directed to the traffic light not far from them. The lights aren’t changing, stuck on green. On every traffic light. His instinct kicks in before his brain can comprehend what his body is doing.

“Barry, what’s…” Stephanie his cut off by his urgent movement. Before she can wrap her head around what is happening, the entire street has developed in havoc.

Car horns loudly honking hurt her ears, and soon she sees why. Losing a sense of order because of the unexplained glitching of the traffic lights, all vehicles are crashing into each other. Fortunately, an imposing figure is halting their movement before the damage can be too big. A car has impacted close to them, however, and while doing so knocking a street light that heavily falls their direction.

While this developed, Barry has urgently taken hold of her. When she becomes aware of his closeness, Stephanie is pressed against his chest as he protectively moves her out of the way. Her heart is wildly racing as her senses overload.

The both of them are falling to the ground, with Barry losing balance in his desperate need to protect Stephanie. He still manages to turn and break her fall, tightly squeezing her with his arms to be shielded against his chest. His back takes the hit as he heavily falls to the ground with Stephanie safely landing on top of himself. Unaccustomed to the chaos, she is screaming and protecting her head with her arms in a panic, pressing herself against Barry and hiding her face on his shoulder as he still holds on to her.

“Steph!” He immediately calls, keeping one arm locked around her and using his free hand to press it against her cheek, urging her to look at him. “Steph, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She peers up in a daze, somehow finding comfort in his eyes despite it all. Despite the concern in them. Despite the chaos that engulfs their surroundings. In spite of it all, Barry’s still there with her. The thought calms her and she manages to take a deep breath. It helps settle the panicked pants that shook her being.

Stephanie wants to speak up, but she has momentarily lost the ability to speak. All she can do at that moment is catch her breath while she lays there on top of him, arms pressed against his chest as it quickly moves up and down with the same urgency as hers does. Barry’s hands are protectively pressed against the small of her back. Their faces are so close that their noses nearly touch. This closeness brings a flushed blush to their cheeks that can luckily be excused by the frantic situation.

“I-I’m okay” She finally replies, even with a shaky voice. “And you?”

“I’m fine” He absently says, immense relieved even if distracted.

Barry then lies on his side and carefully pushes her off him. The two of them still hold on to each other as they scramble to their feet. As they glance around, they see the disaster that the street has turned into.

A flying figure covers the sun for a split second while the clouds slowly float away in the sky. Stephanie gasps when she looks up and sees him, recognizing the cape and the strong silhouette of the hero that saved the day.

“Superman…” She utters, pointing up and gathering Barry’s attention there too.

“Oh, no” He mumbles under his breath, starting to understand what has happened.

Stephanie is too becoming aware of what happened, although in a different manner. She glances around, seeing the fallen street light that could have crushed them, the numerous cars that have crashed into each other and the traffic lights still stuck on green. How could Barry react so quickly if she barely had the time to notice any of it?

“Barry, what…” Stephanie swallows, trying to put some order into her messy thoughts. “How… Why…”

He isn’t listening to her incoherent babbling. Barry is still looking up, although his gaze is fixed on the roof of a building. A dark figure looms there, and his heart skips a beat in realization. Barry checks his phone, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he reads the screen. He has three missed called and ten texts.

“I gotta go” Barry stumbles over his words, suddenly even more frantic that during their near death experience. “I-I hate to leave like this, but I’m really late, I’m supposed to be somewhere else”

“Y-Yeah” Stephanie tries to recover from the shock and confusion. “Okay…”

“Can you walk home, are you okay?”

“I think so”

“Are you sure”

“Yeah”

“Steph?”

She stares at him, finding her lost concentration when she locks eyes with him. His worry seems to lessen when she manages to finally focus her gaze. Showing him that gesture that warms his heart, Steph nods and reassuringly smiles at him. He heaves a sigh in relief.

“Take care, okay?” He mumbles, in a sudden urgent hug. “I’ll call you soon”

“Okay” Stephanie clings on to him, lingering in the embrace and treasuring it for just a moment longer. As she does, she takes the breath she has needed so badly during those long minutes in which she couldn’t breathe.

When he pulls away, she has to hold back a groan of complaint. Her warmly smiles and waves goodbye at her. She does too. Then, Barry briskly walks away, urgently holding on to his phone.

Stephanie watches him in fascination, her eyes fixed on his back as he distances himself from her. There had been a new look on his face, an expression of mature determination and somber commitment. She had never seen anything like that. Barry has changed, and she doesn’t know in which way exactly. Stephanie is left with thousand of questions buzzing in her brain as she walks home in a daze.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!! ​

[grouptalekindnesssoulstories]

Prince Lee? Zuko the Tea Server

@fyrelordzuko i got some inspiration from your post. It sounds adorable. 

I decided as writer that I wanted more homosexual pining/tension. So I edited events to make it so! (Also Jet’s accusation was hard to find. Like, seriously you’d think there’d be more clips of it but noooooo)

Warnings: There’s some switching of perspective and names. ~ <- means a change in perspective (--) <- means time passes. When Sokka is the focus, Zuko is Lee. Otherwise I think I called him only Zuko?? IDK

“Uncle, that’s one of the avatar’s friends” Zuko tugged on Iroh’s arm, pointing to the customer who had just walked in. 

“Yes, so?” Iroh sighed to himself. He’d just gotten Zuko to stop obsessing over the group. 

“So, do you think he’s here to attack me?” Zuko’s voice was so scared and raw, and Iroh wanted nothing more than to just hug him. The banished prince acted so much older than his 16 years that hearing him just be 16 was good. Iroh wished it were something other than fear, but he’d take it as it came. He settled for calming his nephew’s nerves for now. 

“It’s broad daylight. He won’t do anything, and besides he hasn’t confronted you. He seems like the type to use the others for witnesses, so if he hasn’t said anything, you’re fine. Now, go take his order before he starts to get suspicious” Iroh gently pushed Zuko towards the table where the other kid sat. 

~~~~

“What can I get you?” A quiet voice interrupts Sokka’s thoughts. He looked up and his mind went completely blank. There was another boy around his own age, with black hair that looked so fluffy. One of his eyes had a burn mark over it, and Sokka immediately trusted him. It looked like the fire nation was no friend to this guy either. 

“Recommend?” Sokka croaked out after a second. That stupid face crinkled in the cutest way. 

“Huh?”

“What do you recommend! I’ve never had much..tea” 

“Oh. Jasmine tea is my favorite, and my uncle is the best at making it in my opinion” Sokka nodded and the boy started to walk away. 

“Wait, what’s your name?” 

“Oh, I’m Lee” The boy moved too quickly for Sokka to introduce himself. Lee comes back half an hour later bearing a teacup, placing it in front of Sokka. 

“I’m Sokka” 

“I know” Lee acknowledged that fact with an almost familiar smile. Sokka couldn't place it, but it set his heart on fire. Lee retreated once more, and barely reappeared until Sokka paid and left. 

~~~

“Zuko, are you alright?” Iroh asked after the shop was closed for the night. There was a small smile on his face, but it looked like he had aged several years. 

“I’m fine Uncle. Just....tired” Iroh pressed a hand to his nephew’s forehead worriedly. No sign of a fever. 

“Well, get some rest. I’m sure it was a one time occurrence” Iroh soothed, getting their apartment tidied for the night.  

----It wasn��t----

“Uncleeeee he’s baaaack” Around the same time the next day, Iroh was interrupted by Zuko tugging on his arm. Spirits, was this going to happen every day now?

“Well, go ask his order. This is a tea shop after all” Iroh was far less gentle pushing Zuko out from behind the counter this time.  

“What can I get for you today?” Zuko approached the water tribe kid awkwardly, repeating his standard customer greeting automatically. 

“Lee! you were right, the tea was amazing” Sokka visibly brightened the moment he heard Zuko’s voice. It was nice for once to see him not react defensively. Made Zuko smile a little wider. 

“Yes, like I said, Uncle is very good at what he does” 

“Well, can I get the same thing” Zuko nodded, turning to deliver the order. When he came back, Sokka was hunched over a map and a schedule, muttering to himself. 

“What’s that for?” Zuko asked, leaning over as he set down the tea. He had some time to just sit and talk, long as it remained this quiet. 

“Huh? Oh. I’m trying to get in to speak to the king, but we have a deadline. Plus, we haven’t seen Zu-someone in a while. And Appa is still missing.” Sokka was too distracted to notice the nervous half-stand Zuko dropped into.

“Maybe the person you’re looking for is on vacation? And the King is uh...private. So good luck with that” Zuko eased down again, glancing towards his uncle. The former general gave a slight nod, face uncharacteristically serious. 

“Maybe he got his honor back at last. It was restored by Azula!” Sokka huffed a laugh, shifting to pay attention to his companion. Zuko was gaping, his mouth open like a fish’s. After a moment he started to laugh from the sheer ridiculousness. His sister restoring his honor? She was the one who’d driven him to come here. Though his uncle was so much happier now, and it was nice without the pressure of being Prince Zuko. 

“...Perhaps-” he tried to suck in some more air “-anyway, you mentioned someone named Appa is missing?”

“Yea, my buddy’s air bison. It’s how we’ve gotten around since I left the south pole” Sokka shrugged, not realizing the mess that was Zuko’s mind. Because, first of all, damn those muscles were fine. Second, the avatar didn’t have his spirit guide and the bison had a name. 

“That’s-that’s ummmm”

“I have to get back anyways. See you Lee” Sokka stood up before Zuko could do more than stammer a vague response. 

He came back every day after that. Sokka lit up Zuko’s entire day, and he never wanted to go back. Iroh began looking forward to closing time since that was when his nephew truly lived. It was, to put it simply, the best thing for his heart. Until it wasn’t. 

“We’re making plans to invade the day of the black sun. We’ll have the advantage, especially if I can figure out this last piece” Sokka was busy writing situations in his messy shorthand as Zuko leaned over his shoulder, listening and pointing out flaws. He’d figured out they planned to attack the fire nation capital, but he found he didn’t care. For the first time in his life, he felt happy and there were no strings attached. He and his uncle had found a place to carve out a life, free of the fire lord. There was the problem of who would take over, but that was a problem for future Zuko. Then that hotheaded prick walked in. 

“That old man is a firebender! I saw him heat up his tea!” Jet yelled, glaring at Iroh. All of the patrons swapped glances. A pair of soldiers were the first to speak up. 

“Kid, he works in a tea shop. That’s his job” 

“He heats the tea with firebending! I saw him” 

“You’re confused. How about you come with us...” the other soldier said, rising slowly from his chair. 

“No! Fight me old man, and i’ll prove it to you” Jet drew his swords, ready to fly at Iroh to prove his point. 

“You want a show? I’ll give you a show” Zuko straightened completely, drawing the closest soldier’s swords. 

~~~

“Lee, be careful!” Sokka called, drowning out Iroh’s cry of “Zuko, no!” Sokka tried to jump in and help, but the pair were moving too fast and too precise. He didn’t dare jump in and risk Lee’s life. And damn was it hot. Lee ignored all of Jet’s taunts, using those swords as if it were his only weapon. Finally some more guards intervened, taking Jet away. Lee returned the swords and slipped into the crowd. 

“Uncle, can I get some of your special tea? Seeing him again was nerve-wracking” Sokka heard Lee say. He sounded so conflicted and tired. Sokka wanted to run in there and hug him. 

“Of course, we’ll close the shop early today. We both need to lie low for now. Hopefully that’s the end of it, but we should pack just in case” The old man’s voice was muffled. Sokka couldn’t remember his name. Wait, they knew Jet? Was...could Lee have been an old flame of Jet’s? Before he became so...back-stabby. Sokka decided now was not a good time to run to the other boy. He’d think over this and process whatever was sitting so heavily on his heart. 

----

“Uncle, I haven’t seen Sokka in days” Zuko paced the floor a few days later. After what had happened with Jet, Sokka hadn’t returned. 

“Maybe he had to go do something. You said he was looking for the avatar’s sky bison. Or is it buffalo? I can never tell...” Iroh mused, a cup of tea in his hands. 

“Uncle, this is serious. He hasn’t been here in a week! He never misses more than one day!” Zuko’s pacing increased as his panic rose. 

“Zuko, take a deep breath. We just got through a scare about someone figuring out who we were. I’m sure you’ll get a letter soon saying he had to leave for his invasion” Iroh beckoned the teenager to the table. he sat reluctantly, taking his uncle’s hand. Iroh guided him through some de-stressing methods. As they were finishing, a knock came at the door. Iroh stood to answer.

“The king has requested your presence. He would like you to serve tea to him. He wishes you to come now” A soldier stood there stiffly, his face expressionless as he delivered his message.

“Serving tea to the king? What an honor. We will be ready in one moment. I must grab my good pot!” Iroh beckoned Zuko over, handing him the pot and leading the way after the soldier. 

~~~~/-----

“Zuko, get out of here! Make sure the Avatar does too!” The old man pushed his nephew towards Sokka and his friends. Azula had taken over the castle and they needed to get the king and get out now. 

“Follow me. I know a way out” Lee, no Zuko, pulled Aang after him. 

“No! We need to get Katara!” Aang pulled back, stopping the escape. 

“Fine! But stay close to me” The prince turned around, running deeper into the compound. “Uh, Miss-, whatever I need you to see if you can find her with your earthbending!” 

“Turn left and then I can dig down!” Toph yelled, pointing towards a patch of grass with flowers sprouting out of it. 

“Hurry! I can hear pursuit!” Sokka yelled, pulling out his boomerang. 

“Twinkle toes! Help me dig a hole!” Toph yelled and Aang began pushing dirt out beside her. 

“They’re coming from the opposite way now. Azula won’t be far behind, Uncle’s only one person and she seems to have an army” 

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Prince Zuko!” Sokka yelled, turning on the prince. He didn’t miss the way his expression crumbled. Not the time Sokka, not the time!

“Get in! Now!” Toph yelled, breaking up their fight. Zuko hesitated as the rest jumped in.

“Go, I’ll hold them off. I can do that at least” Zuko’s face had that sorrowful smile that Sokka had gotten to know so well in those first few weeks with Lee. 

“That’ll give them a hint. Get in idiot!” Toph yelled and Sokka grabbed Le-Zuko’s arm by instinct. He pulled him into the hole and Toph covered them again before digging again. They finally reached Katara a few minutes later. It was too late, Azula had beaten them to her. 

“Oh Zuzu, I thought you were better than this” She sneered. 

“...go. Sokka, please. Take your sister and run. Run far away and do your plan. Make it the best damn plan. Wipe the whole group out. Start all over” Zuko turned to Sokka, eyes already tearing up. Katara didn’t hesitate, and ensnared her brother’s arm to drag him away. The last view of Zuko that Sokka got was him fighting desperately. He dodged every lightning bolt his sister threw at him. One bounced off, hitting Aang in the back. Sokka turned away to make sure he could get Aang out alive. Zuko could rot for all he cared. 

---

“This entire time, he was PRINCE ZUKO?” Sokka yelled, tempted to crawl into a hole and die. He had flirted with Prince ZUKO. 

“His scar’s pretty distinctive Sokka. Who else looks like someone tried to blind them?” Katara groaned, totally done with the whole ‘I like the guy whose been chasing us around the world’ thing. 

“Lee! Who I guess is just an alias for Zuko” 

“Ok Sokka, we’re done. Time to move on” Toph groaned, stopping her vigil over Aang for a moment. He had barely stirred. They knew he was alive, but who knew if he’d last long enough. All they could do was keep him healthy, and hope. 

(To Be continued?)

[bigmultifandomgirl]

Master and the Mute Kylo Ren x reader - Chapter Two

Chapter One Chapter Three

YOUR POV

As you had spent more time on the Finlizer you slowly forgot your frustrating first morning. You had delved deep into whatever assignment was given to you and thankfully Hux had deemed it appropriate to give you more solo tasks than ones where a team was involved. He had also not engaged with you on a face to face basis which you were also extremely grateful for, you had a feeling that he resented you for causing him to be put in his place by Kylo Ren, which you understood but did not relish in.

Today was similar to how the last couple of days had passed, you had been assigned to fix a row of lighting panels that had kept malfunctioning leaving corridors in darkness apart from the subtle red glow that came from all the wiring and little red bulbs on motherboards that were lined beneath the flooring. For some reason you were really beginning to struggle, it was as if every night you would leave having made some amount of progress and then you would return the next morning to find what felt like a completely different set of wires in front of you. It was endlessly frustrating as you knew that your skills were more advanced but for some reason you just could not figure it out, you rubbed your face with frustration as you looked down at the unscrewed panels and offending wires before you. 

You just could not find it in you to focus, you had a sneaky suspicion why, he had been creeping into your thoughts at night and you had been waking abruptly in the night. It was unexplainable. You had fully recovered from your encounter with the dark caped master of the force, but that did not stop your curiosity. Why could he hear you? What did it all mean? Would he do anything about it? You had heard that when a master of the force was reading your thoughts you could feel it and apparently it was shockingly painful, so why hadn't you felt anything at all? Was he trying to read your mind? If so, you had no idea his motives in doing so, you were just a mute engineer - so far down the food chain from him that it was actually laughable that he would even look in your direction.

The wires hummed as you began disconnecting certain ones and inspecting them for damage.

I wonder what else he heard from my mind? Your blood chilled as you realised that he may know things about you that not a soul on this earth knows, about your accident and your poor late parents. Could he see images in your mind? Relive memories as you thought about them? You thought to a couple of days after the accident when you first were able to stand up from the comfortable bed from which that lovely old woman had nursed you. You were completely naked as some of your skin was still sizzling in places where the explosion had burned you. You stared at your marred flesh, burns covered a large surface of your legs and arms, a lot of your torso had managed to escape the fire, but you disliked it for other reasons. Then there were the scars. Debris had been flung in all directions, as your father had similarly been an engineer there was lots of scrap metal lying around the house as he was always building something it seemed. There was always a new idea in his head that he decided to pursue on a whim. Unfortunately for you it meant your skin had been split open in many areas. Most notably your neck, there was the main scar, the deepest, the one that had stolen your ability to speak. One end started on the left side of your neck and slanted down it to where your neck met your shoulders and down to the top of your right breast. The second largest scar crossed the first near your collar bone and travelled down your arm, ending in the middle of your forearm. The third and ugliest in your eyes started on your lower left cheek, it was barely on your face but the bubbling flesh made sure it was noticed, it travelled down your neck and ended a little after it had collided with the first scar. Those were the three main scars where the flesh was raised and red, they always looked angry and as if you were boiling from the inside out. Your body was decorated with lots of smaller white scars where debris has impaled you, not as deep as the angry three but deep enough that it left a mark on you.. You remember falling to your knees and sobbing, you were unrecognisable to yourself. You were ugly, marred and alone in the world.

A small shock shot through your fingers from an exposed wire which broke you from your thoughts. Finally! This may have been causing the malfunctioning, you smiled smugly as you felt accomplished having found the fault now you could just fix it and move onto the next assignment. You reached behind you and into your tool box to find some new wire coverings, you quickly replaced the faulty covering and replaced the panel over the wires.

Satisfied with a problem finally solved, you ticked off the assignment on your data pad and decided to sit and wait for the notification of your next assignment come through while you took a break.

Pulling a flask out, your poured yourself some coffee. This was not a luxury provided by the First Order on their ships, it was something you had brought from the planet you were working on. The warm and rich taste calmed down your mind from the emotional tangent it had been on. There was no way Kylo would be able to hear you all the time, he surely has to be close for this strange connection to just transmit all your thoughts into his head. That must be why h you had not seen him in the two weeks since your first meeting. You did not know but you assumed it must be very agitating to have someone else's stream of thought filtered in with your own, especially the thoughts of a mute girl who basically has no filter as she has never had to watch her mouth/ edit her thoughts and feelings.

You let out a mute chuckle at the thought of your benign wonderings intertwined with the thoughts of the most powerful and important man in the universe.

Slowly, you felt the silence in the corridors get heavier. These corridors had been empty in the days that you had been working. These corridors were not central to the ship so even though it was strange it did not bother you. But the soft thudding of heavy boots echoing off the walls did. Who in the hell was that? Quickly, you checked your data pad to see if there was a new assignment yet so that you could move on and would not have to run into whoever those boots belonged to. For some reason your intuition did not think that it would be a harmless stromtrooper that would just walk by and completely ignore your existence. You hastily put your mug of coffee by your feet and started to gather the rest of you tools into the toolbox and then placing the toolbox into the bag that you slung over your shoulder as the footsteps got closer and louder. Your lovely smooth silence was being disturbed and so your mood had instantly been dampened despite the mug of heaven you retrieved from the floor. You stopped to realise that your years of isolation due to being mute had made you hate interacting with people. Your stomach wobbled with your little laugh at how absurd you were when the boots rounded the corner and your breath got stuck in your throat again.

Him.

He was taking long strides towards you, mask obscuring his face, he was a predator who was stalking his prey and all you could to was stare and admire how powerful he looked with his cape billowing elegantly behind him. You realised that he was definitely close enough to hear you now so you tried your best to push him out of your thoughts and instead focused on the dark brown liquid in your mug. His steps continued towards you and you began to feel his presence.

Silence again was restored and you felt yourself relax even though now he was stood right in front of you. You were not sure what he wanted and even less sure if you were willing to find out.

"Are you afraid of me?" The mechanical voice asks and you raise your eyes to stare into his helmet where his eyes would be. What colour are they? You wondered and then snapped back to thinking about the cooling coffee in your hands.

"All you have to do is think the answer, I can hear all your thoughts. Ever since you arrived on this ship I've heard you and I cannot understand why, and yes it is extremely frustrating. Do you have a connection to the force? Are we related? Did you know about our bond?"

Your mind stilled with no effort after his bombardment of questions: a connection to the force, related a BOND?? You sobered yourself up and looked back into the helmet.

I have no idea, you answered. No-one has ever heard my thoughts, I have no-one, I am pretty sure we are not related Prince and a bond are you mad? You and I? A Master of the force, a Prince, a Knight and a stupid mute? You must be insane. You sneered and the silence from Kylo's helmet made you more uneasy by the second, you realised the mistake you had made and reminded yourself of who you were actually talking to.

A sigh came from the helmet in front of you. He was hesitant. You felt it, it was unmistakeable.

"That's fine we'll figure that out later. Are. You. Afraid. Of. Me?" he spoke quickly and then offered the question much slower. More deliberate. This was the most important question to him and the one you had evaded successfully until this moment.

Were you afraid of him? His helmet did not help that was for sure. The whole mask and cape get up was powerful and almost demanded respect and fear from anyone who was to gaze upon it.

There was a small hiss and a click from above you and a loud clang as something heavy hit the ground near your feet.

"Don't forget that I can hear everything you are saying even if you are not aiming it at me." his raw voice mumbled. No longer edited or amplified by the voice modulator, his voice was as smooth has honey and as deep as a wealthy man's pocket and as rich as chocolate you had once tried from a trader. You almost swooned at the sound of his voice addressing you, it gave you courage.

"Look at me and tell me if you are afraid."

You obediently raised your eyes to gaze upon his face. He was human much to your surprise, you were convinced he was some type of monster the way he powerfully commanded his armies and the way he ruthlessly disposed of his enemies as if they were nothing but annoying flies buzzing around him. The first thing you noticed was his dark locks which framed his face handsomely and curled in such a way that you fought the urge to reach up and run your fingers through them. Somehow you knew that Kylo would not have been too happy with such a familiar act. You had heard that very few people saw him without the helmet and so you understood that this was a strange occurrence for him. You quickly moved onto his strong aquiline nose, it made his whole face look strong and confident as his e=height enabled him to look down it upon anyone who he wished to make feel small. Then there were his eyes, the deepest brown that you had ever seen, but as you looked into his eyes you realised that he was doing the same to you which made you feel uncomfortable and so you swiftly moved your gaze further down to his lips which were plump and pink, you were almost envious of how beautiful he was. It was almost scary that this was the face that all the storied said had committed atrocious acts that would remain in people’s nightmares for decades to come.

He was handsome, intimidating but handsome. You were not afraid of the man who stood before you.

No. You thought as you finally raised your eyes to meet his own again.

You observed what you thought was a small smile grace his pretty lips but it was gone too quickly for you to be definite about its existence. You waited patiently for what he was going to do next, still looking into his eyes steadily. 

“I need to know about our connection before it becomes too much of a distraction from my duties. Then I'll decide what to do with you."

Fear struck through you like lightening at his words and you worked hard to not let him notice where your mind was going.

Your thoughts were broken when the large man bent down and picked his helmet off the floor and placed it back on his head, you secretly hated that you could no longer see his soft locks of hair or his deep eyes which seemed to stun you still every time they met yours. You let out a soft sigh and watched him to see what he would do next after fiddling with the latches on his helmet.

"Where do you stay?"

You weren't sure exactly how to explain where you were staying as you still relied heavily on the data pad map to manoeuvre around the ship. I can take you there? You offered as it was the only way you could see of effectively letting him know where you were staying, after all you were not going to say no to him, he was a great commander. As you had said before, you were practically at the bottom of the food chain, a small helpless creature and he, he was at the top a predator who was powerful and dangerous. There was no point in denying him anything if you valued your life.

He gave a small nod to you and so you turned and reached for your data pad from out of your bag and brought up the map, you thought it may be quicker if he saw it and led you there, after all this was his ship and you were still getting lost  in it every day. You turned to face his stoic helmet again and raised your hand to him which held the data pad, he responded by gently taking it from your hands, his leather-covered fingers brushing yours in the exchange which sent shivers down your spine which you prayed he didn't notice. He scanned over the data pad screen, made a tiny nod and handed it back to you.

"Follow" he commanded and you were not about to disobey the demanding modulated voice.

He started his long strides down the corridor and you were left to follow, he did not look back to check, he just assumed you would be there. You had to jog slightly to keep up with his long strides but he did not seem to notice, your heart was thumping harder in your chest as you realised he was going to see your living quarters. They really were not much. You had unpacked what little you owned and had decorated the walls with pictures of your favourite places. Nothing sentimental of your parents was left after the explosion and so all you were left with were memories and because there were no other people in your life the pictures were all landscapes, you didn't mind but were worried about what he would think about you when he saw them. I mean he could hear your thoughts but you weren't sure if he could see images that you conjured or feel emotions that overtook you. This uncertainty reminded you that he was only a few strides ahead of you and you quickly got your thoughts in line and made you mind blank. simply concentrating on the walls of the halls, trying to pull out any distinct feature that you had seen before. Trying to commit this ship to memory was a hard task.

He stopped in front of a corridor full of doors and you passed him and went straight to yours, smoothly putting in the pass code which allowed you to enter. You could feel his presence behind you as you did so, when the door slid open you stepped inside and then made way for Kylo to make his way in behind you.

You silently watched as he surveyed your room, you could not tell his reaction as his face was still covered by the helmet until you saw him reach up and heard the hiss and the lick of it releasing his head. He turned his piercing gaze to you and your heard almost stopped. He took steps towards you and you breath hitched as you were yet again stunned by his beauty, suddenly it was too hot where you stood but you were paralyzed where you stood - you were sure he was not even using the force on you. All you could do was watch his body as it moved towards you, you imagined how powerful his body was underneath all the layers of armour, you couldn't help but wonder what it looked like, what it would feel like under your fingers. You had never been paid this much attention to by a man and it was making you forget how to act. You were sure that your face was flushed which would tell Kylo all he needed to know if he hadn't already heard.

He was ight in front of you, warm breath fanning your face until he dipped his head by your ear. His breath down your neck made you shake and you felt one of his hands on your arm steady you as he nipped at you ear and you very almost fell.

"I did hear it my darling." he whispered lowly into your ear.

And then he was gone, a smug smirk on his lips as he clicked his helmet back on. He turned his head as he was in your doorway.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow." he promised and with a swish of cape he disappeared down the corridor. It was all you could do to fall on your bed and try and catch your breath, that small encounter was enough to arouse you and it scared you how readily you reacted to him.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING <3. I have had such good response fom part one in only a few days, other pieces of my writing have not been reacted to as well, so thank you so much it means a lot to me. Here is part two, longer and hopefully better :) Feedback is appreciated. Love you all, stay safe xx

[sarahhsaritaa]

i took one continuous video of two candles burning side by side. instead of waiting for the candle to fully burn, i would go in with a lighter and melt the wax so the process went faster. it was a good technique until the flint wheel started heating up. at one point i went to grab another lighter; this is where the lighting changed due to me leaving and removing the hand-held red light. i didn’t notice it at the time, but the warmness of the red light turned cold and had blue tones. however watching it back once edited, i appreciate the lighting shifting with the dying flame. the warmth departs, as does the life in the candle. i included a quick reverse of the clip where you can see the candle building itself back up. it’s interesting because in the first clip, you naturally concentrate on the dying candle but when you watch the reversed clip, you notice how the ‘surviving’ candle is also dying. you often hear the phrase ‘twin flame’ when a friendship or relationship is being described. so i tried to convey two lovers and how their journeys differ. one lover starts to deteriorate and lose themselves. it is obvious that they are the ones struggling in the relationship whilst their partner appears to be on track and thriving. but when you take a closer look (or in this case when the image is reversed), you are made aware of the other lover’s silent struggle.

my initial idea was to have a daisy chain connecting the two candles, and the flame travelling across it. i stuck daisies to a string of candle wick and connected the ends. visually, as a still image, i like the look of the decaying daisies crawling up the wick. but when i tried to light the flame on one end, the fire burns straight through, detaching the chain. i do want to try this shot again and figure out a way that works. perhaps i could use thread to sew the daisies together, or i could make a literal daisy chain and find a way to attach it to the candles. 

the significance of candles has always been apparent throughout the history of film. they’re used as symbols of romance, religion, relaxation and light into the next world as well as for set/lighting. in ‘The Lovely Bones’ (dir. Peter Jackson, 2009), Jack Salmon (played by Mark Wahlberg) loses his daughter Susie (played by Saoirse Ronan) and tries to reveal her murderer throughout the film. the two bonded over making ships in bottles; Jack sets up a candle on top of a bottled ship and lets it burn. in the room, the flame is still, but in the reflection, the flame dances as Susie has a breakthrough. she is in the ‘in-between’, not quite ready to let go of her life. her chilling narration connects her to the real world and the actions of her family as she tries to unveil her murderer to them. once she makes this connection to her father through the flame’s reflection, Susie realises “everything is gonna be okay” and sets about enjoying this otherworldly liminal space.

other films use candles in contrasting ways. in ‘William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet’ (dir. Baz Luhrmann, 1996), there is a wide shot of Juliet (played by Claire Danes) lying atop her grave, immersed in a pool of brightly lit candles. the candles symbolise her innocence and create a sense of peace as Romeo (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) walks to her grave. we are seeing Juliet from Romeo’s point of view; he uses light and dark imagery throughout the play, describing her as a source of light that illuminates her tomb. Luhrmann has taken imagery directly from Shakespeare’s play to create this angelic image.

Judd Apatow’s ‘The 40-Year-Old Virgin’ (2005) has an entirely different approach to candle significance. Andy (played by Steve Carell) is a 40-year-old virgin who, back in the early 2000′s, would’ve been classified as a ‘nerd’ for spending his free time playing video games. his friend David (played by Paul Rudd) encourages him to have sex, and in one scene leaves him a large box containing pornographic dvds. Andy tells him he doesn’t want them, but once David leaves, the camera slowly focuses on him lighting a collection of candles in preparation for his chosen dvd. Lionel Richie’s ‘Hello’ plays as a montage of Andy buttoning up his comfy pyjamas and turning around his framed pictures and trophies commences, all while revealing even more rows of candles. he is surrounded. this scene is comedy gold, and i believe the candles really emphasise his desperation and lack of experience. 

when looking at the technicality of using candles in film, they aren’t the most reliable and are often made specifically for a film shoot. large studio lights and effects emphasise a flame’s appearance and most times you can’t tell the difference. however, when you watch scenes from films like ‘Barry Lyndon’ (dir. Stanley Kubrick, 1975), you learn to appreciate the roles and efforts of the lighting department. many of the indoor scenes used natural lighting, including evening ones which were candle-lit. Kubrick, being the devoted genius that he is, used real candles he had specially made so the flames lasted longer. filming scenes that are only lit by candle is technically difficult today, let alone in the 70′s where equipment was limited. so Kubrick bought a lens from NASA that was used by astronauts on the moon that he then had fitted into a film camera. his devotion and attention to detail is what makes ‘Barry Lyndon’ one of the most accurate depictions of the 18th century. all the quirks and characteristics that come from natural lighting and unpredictable flames is what transports you into this world of european aristocracy. 

[kjack89]

What a Beautiful Mess

Just about seven years ago, I published my first Les Mis fic. True to form even now, it was E/R, modern AU, angst with a happy ending. I had no idea what to expect as far as the response to that fic would be, and, of course, had no idea that I’d still be here, seven years later, still writing about the same two idiots in love.

I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for the incredible support of the Les Mis fandom. Y’all have been with me through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and I truly do mean it — I would not be here today if it weren’t for you. Not just here writing, but very likely here at all. Fandom is such a strange, bizarre and utterly beautiful place, and thank you to everyone who has made this fandom something that feels like home.

This one’s for you — E/R, modern AU, a touch of angst, and whole lot of love. Here’s to whatever beautiful mess comes next.

The dull roar of conversation in the back room of the Musain quieted as Enjolras stood up to start the meeting. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door creaked open and Grantaire made his way to his seat, holding two beers and mouthing what could either have been an apology or an expletive.

It was a sign of how things had changed between them that his tardy appearance warranted nothing more than a slightly exasperated but mostly fond look as Enjolras waited for Grantaire to be seated before beginning. “Now that we’re all here,” he said, a little sternly, but with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, and as he continued talking, Grantaire let out a happy sigh, lounging slightly in his chair.

“You seem happy,” Joly said in an undertone, and Grantaire arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of beer.

“You say that like I normally walk around scowling.”

Joly ignored him. “Did you and Enjolras have fun together before the meeting?” he asked instead, in an idle sort of way, and Grantaire paused, his beer halfway to his lips.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

While the fact that he and Enjolras were dating at best, or just sleeping together at worst, was not exactly a secret, Grantaire had decided at the beginning not to talk about it, or even so much as acknowledge it, just in case he jinxed it.

It must’ve worked, because just last night they had celebrated one whole month of not jinxing it.

But it also explained Joly’s eye roll as he took a sip of his wine before telling Grantaire, sounding far more nonchalant than Grantaire had remotely managed, “Maybe not, but you missed a button on your shirt.”

Grantaire looked down at himself, his mouth opening and closing again like a fish gasping for water. “That– I mean– I do that all the time,” he blustered, quickly trying to fix the problem and somehow only managing to make things worse. “I mean, it’s not like it means anything.”

“Of course not,” Joly said, taking another sip of wine to hide his smile. “But like I said, you seem happy.”

Grantaire muttered something incomprehensible as he finally fixed the buttons on his shirt, but when he glanced up at Enjolras, it was with a smile on his face.

----------

Combeferre glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper and offered a bod to Enjolras as he emerged from his bedroom, already on the phone with the permit approval office at City Hall despite it being only a few minutes past their opening time. “Yes, but you’ve given no explanation for denying our reasonable use permit request,” Enjolras said impatiently, giving Combeferre a distracted wave before yanking on his coat. “Believe me, I’m more than happy to file an appeal, but you and I both know you would save yourselves some time and grief if you just approved it now—”

He broke off as Grantaire stumbled out of the bedroom, wrapped in Enjolras’s duvet. Enjolras’s expression instantly softened when he saw Grantaire, though his tone was no less impatient when he told whomever had the unfortunate luck of picking up the phone that morning, “Then tell your supervisor to call me themself and I will be glad to walk them through the city code on what constitutes ‘reasonable use’.”

He hung up and slipped his phone in his pocket before reaching out to pull Grantaire to him. “Sorry to rush off,” he said before kissing Grantaire’s forehead. “Meet me for lunch?”

Grantaire opened his mouth as if to answer but yawned instead, and Enjolras laughed. “Go back to bed,” he commanded, leaning in and kissing Grantaire lightly. “I’ll text you later.”

He gave Combeferre another wave, this time accompanied by a slightly sheepish smile, before finally taking his leave. Grantaire stood there for a long moment, staring after him, a goofy sort of grin on his face. Then he shook his head and turned to shuffle into the kitchen, his expression a little dazed.

Dazed enough that he ran smackdab into the refrigerator, and Combeferre snorted a laugh into his coffee mug.

“What?” Grantaire asked defensively, rubbing his head as he recovered his balance, making his way around the refrigerator to the coffeemaker.

“Absolutely nothing,” Combeferre told him, managing to rein in his laughter. “Good morning to you, too.”

Grantaire glared at him as he poured himself a cup of coffee, but by the time he had filled his cup, his glare had disappeared, replaced by the same goofy grin from before. Still, he held his head high as he made his way back to Enjolras’s bedroom— at least until he tripped over the edge of the duvet and almost spilled his coffee all over himself.

This time, Combeferre didn’t even bother trying to hide his laughter, and Grantaire’s dreamy look was replaced by a scowl as he stalked into Enjolras’s bedroom, all but slamming the door behind him.

Combeferre’s laugh slowed to a chuckle, and he shook his head as he returned to reading his newspaper.

----------

Courfeyrac glanced impatiently at the time on his cellphone before tossing a look at Combeferre, who did not seem to be even remotely concerned about the time. “He’s late,” Courfeyrac said sourly.

“By about 30 seconds,” Combeferre answered calmly, striking something on the blog post he was editing. “I think we can afford to cut him a little slack.”

“Maybe you can,” Courfeyrac grumbled, glaring at his phone again as if he could encourage it to move faster. “I have a hot date after this.”

Combeferre glanced up, his brow furrowed. “Aren’t you and I getting pho after this?” he asked. Courfeyrac leered pointedly at him and Combeferre rolled his eyes, looking back down at his computer, his face burning bright red. “Anyway—”

He was cut off by Enjolras, coming into the backroom not from the doorway, as anyone would expect, but instead emerging from the supply closet. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking a seat next to Combeferre, who looked confused, and Courfeyrac, who looked delighted.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Courfeyrac said blithely, smirking slightly, and Combeferre glared at him.

“You literally were just complaining—”

He was cut off again by the door to the supply closet opening, and this time, a particularly dishevelled Grantaire spilled out, his hair sticking straight up in the back and his shirt on inside-out. He froze when he saw them looking at him, and gave them a slightly sheepish wave before hurrying out.

Courfeyrac was beaming like a cat that had gotten the cream and Combeferre cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “now that we’re all here—”

“Enjolras, I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you,” Courfeyrac interrupted, and Enjolras looked over at him, startled.

“For being a few minutes late?” he asked, somewhat dubious, and Courfeyrac sighed and rolled his eyes.

“No, for your little pre-meeting meeting in the supply closet,” he said, a touch impatiently.

Enjolras still looked confused. “Grantaire and I were just talking,” he said, a touch defensively. Combeferre and Courfeyrac both made disbelieving noises at that, and Enjolras scowled. “What?” he asked.

Courfeyrac sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind,” he said, somewhat mournfully. “My pride is rescinded.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Enjolras told him, but Combeferre was pretty sure he could see just a slight smile lifting the corner of Enjolras’s mouth.

----------

Grantaire was running late, but that was hardly out of the ordinary, and besides, Jehan was finishing up a chapter in his book, so he didn’t mind waiting, propping his feet up on the empty chair waiting for Grantaire in the café and drinking his tea.

Three chapters later, Grantaire was still not there, and Jehan frowned down at his watch before going to order himself another cup of tea and a coffee for when Grantaire inevitably showed up. 

Sure enough, not even five minutes later, Grantaire rushed in, noticeably out of breath. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, dropping into his seat and standing up immediately when he realized he had sat on Jehan’s feet.

“No worries,” Jehan told him absently, marking where he left off in his book as Grantaire sat back down, this time lifting Jehan’s feet and setting them in his lap. 

Grantaire caught sight of the cup of coffee waiting for him and brightened instantly. “For me?” he asked, and when Jehan nodded, Grantaire grinned. “My hero,” he said, grabbing the coffee and pulling the lid off, reaching for the sugar.

Jehan watched, his eyebrows raised and his cup of tea halfway to his mouth, as Grantaire dumped seemingly half the container into his coffee. “Is everything alright?” he asked, curious. 

“Yeah, fine, why?” Grantaire asked distractedly before taking a gulp of coffee that he instantly choked on. “Jesus Christ,” he spluttered, staring down at the coffee in horror. “What the hell is wrong with this coffee?!”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with the coffee,” Jehan told him.

“Then why does it taste like—”

Jehan patiently held up the almost-empty salt shaker. “Because you put salt in it instead of sugar.”

Grantaire stared at him, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” Jehan agreed, taking a sip of tea. “So, I’ll take it you came from Enjolras’s.”

“What makes you say that?” Grantaire asked, taking another sip of coffee and shuddering at the taste as if he had already forgotten how disgusting it was.

Jehan gave him a look. “Because you’re always distracted after you’ve been spending time with Enjolras,” he said, as if it was obvious.

Grantaire froze. “Am not,” he said, seemingly on instinct alone.

Jehan just shrugged. “Whatever you say,” he said unconcernedly, and Grantaire stared down at his coffee for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Goddamnit.”

----------

“Are you watching me sleep?” Enjolras asked with no small amount of amusement, not lifting his head from his pillow, even as Grantaire was propped up on his elbow, looking at him.

“That would require you to actually be asleep,” Grantaire pointed out. “And seeing as how your alarm is about to go off—“

As if on cue, Enjolras’s phone chimes loudly and Enjolras sighed, reaching over to turn it off before rolling back to face Grantaire. He stretched, pausing when he saw Grantaire still watching him. “What?” he asked, slightly defensively.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, before hesitating and telling him, almost desperately, “You just — you look perfect.”

“You’re biased,” Enjolras told him with a laugh, running a hand through his blond curls.

“Maybe,” Grantaire allowed, “but you and I just woke up from sleep and had pretty fantastic sex on top of that, and while I look like I’ve gone nine rounds in the boxing ring with Bahorel and am lucky I can string a sentence together, you’re cool as a cucumber, not even a hair out of place.”

Enjolras smirked. “That’s because I’m better at this than you,” he teased, but his grin faded when Grantaire didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Grantaire shrugged, and Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What is this really about?”

Grantaire was silent for a long moment, reaching out to trace a finger up Enjolras’s side. “It’s probably nothing,” he hedged, but Enjolras captured his hand with one of his own, holding him in place.

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “Talk to me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m in this more than you.”

Enjolras stared at him. “In what more?” he asked.

Grantaire shrugged, carefully pulling his hand away from Enjolras’s. “This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “Us.” Enjolras’s expression darkened and Grantaire hurried to add, “It’s just that I love you so much that every time we’re together, I feel like the air’s been knocked out of me, and I know we’ve never put a name on this so maybe you don’t feel the same, and that’s ok, but—“

Enjolras cut off his babbling by kissing him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. “I’m in this,” he told Grantaire, resting his forehead against his as he ran his fingers lightly through Grantaire’s mess of curls. “Don’t ever think that I��m not. I just—“

He broke off, clearly searching for the right words. “You say that when we’re together, it’s like the air’s been knocked out of you, but when we’re together, it’s like I can stop and breathe again.” He made a face, as if what he’d said sounded inadequate to him. “At every other point in time, I have to be a million places at once, doing a million things at once. But when I’m here with you, it’s just you.”

He ran his thumb lightly across Grantaire’s cheekbone. “When I’m with you, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about. So when I have to leave, I guess I’m just better at keeping it together because I’m still focused on what matters.” 

He kissed Grantaire once more before rolling over and standing up, padding over to his dresser to grab some clothes and get dressed. Grantaire rolled over onto his stomach to watch him, his usual goofy smile still a little smaller than usual. “”As much as I realize that’s supposed to be sweet, I’m not entirely sure it is,” he complained, propping himself up on his elbow again. “Especially since I’m the idiot walking into things and putting salt in my coffee, and you…” 

He trailed off as Enjolras sat down on the edge of the bed next to him to put his shoes on. “And I, what?” Enjolras asked, amused.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Absolutely nothing. Other than the fact that I love you.”

Enjolras looked at him suspiciously but nonetheless leaned over to kiss him. “I love you, too,” he said. “See you at the rally. Please try not to be late.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Grantaire promised, still grinning, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he shrugged and made his way out the door.

Grantaire lay back in bed and closed his eyes, mentally counting down in his head, until—

“Were you really going to let me leave the house with my shirt on backwards?” Enjolras demanded, standing in the doorway and glaring at Grantaire.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Grantaire murmured sleepily.

Enjolras scowled and pulling his shirt off to put it on the correct way. “You are such a—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire reached out and pulled him back to the bed, tugging him down so he could kiss him once more.

“It was just nice to see you as distracted as I normally am for once.”

Enjolras’s expression softened and he kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “I love you,” he told him. “Some days I sure as shit don’t know why, but—”

Grantaire just laughed. “I love you, too. Backwards shirt and all.”

[bymoonchild]

Sugarplum Elegy (M) [Preview]

[Edit] FULL FIC HERE

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, FWB!AU, Soundcloud singer!AU, Idiots to Lovers!AU  Warnings | Explicit language, hopeless and helpless pining, constipated feelings, lots of smut, rimming, cum-eating, blowjobs, face-sitting, fucking sinful please brace yourself though it will... be soft as fuck as well because jungoo and the stars in his eyes demanded it to be soft..!, more to come Summary | There’s no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you, originally a die-hard rap fanatic, are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

Est. release date | Mid July 

There’s no greater testament to love than being in love itself. The aching process of it that continues forever, until the end of time and the pure vulnerability of being bound up together with another emotionally and physically. To love in every sense of the word is to offer your entire heart and place it on someone's bare hands, while knowing that there's a chance that they might crush it right in front of your eyes or behind your back.

Maybe love is like a dandelion, pretty in the summer mornings, but when a huge gust of wind hits, its petals will be blown away, leaving its heart barren, abandoned. And given your past relationships, forming a fresh new ache and vulnerability for yet another person frightens the fuck out of you.

So whenever you wake up to a Jeon Jungkook beside you, lulled by the quiet sound of his breathing, your heart fizzles in your chest. It’s really a no-strings-attached agreement that you two have decided on at the beginning of the year, but it still feels weird and surreal, especially when the first thing you see is his peaceful face, unless he’s spooning you, his warm breath tickling against the back of your nape. It’s weird because it feels nice, feels so right.

Though it's been six months since you two started the whole fuckbuddy agreement, you still can't get used to how warm Jungkook is, always so warm that it softens and melts your sharp edges. While his body still sends zaps down your spine, your mind registers that you’ve actually grown to adore the heat of his body when your cold feet are always finding themselves tangled together with his under the sheets. It’s crazy how you relish having his arm wrapped around your waist, as if the sun has chiselled its way into every single pore of your body.

Sometimes, you’d wake up to Jungkook staring at you, caressing every detail of your face with his eyes alone. He’s not much of a morning person, but there are times you’ve woken up to him smiling like a fool (an adorable one at that) at your groggy and sleepy self, as though your crusty morning face turns him on even more because it often leads to the continuation of the previous night’s copulation before scrambling to class.

There’s no bounds nor depth with Jeon Jungkook. If anything, you’ve come to a conclusion that in your entire life, you’ve never met a single person quite like Jungkook before, like the cosmos has moved for this concurrence to be possible.

It seems like you discover a new side to your fuckbuddy as the days go by, which keeps you on your toes and brings a smile to your face, but nothing can ever beat the dorky Jungkook that becomes a freak in the sheets when he pounds into you mercilessly or pulls your hair as he buries himself deep inside the hilt of your throat. Nothing beats the feeling of having his body pressed up against yours as he whispers sweet nothings that caress and fan against your skin like invisible marks that will always be there. Burning from deep within.

Two months into the agreement, you find out that he loves your bed and the dick appointments are always at your place because he claims that your bed is ten folds comfier than his. You can’t seem to fathom why because you find his bed equally comfortable to sleep on and it probably smells much nicer than yours, mixed with the brew of his musky scent and peach shampoo.

When sex becomes a daily thing and a mixture of scents now lingers in your room, Jungkook starts bringing more of his stuff over and that includes his favourite fabric softener, just because he can. He makes sure that he’s over every Saturday to do laundry and even folds your clothes for you because he’s the self-proclaimed Laundry Senpai and all laundry duties are to be entrusted to him.

It’s moments like these where you know that Jungkook has undoubtedly carved himself a permanent space in your place and he does it so effortlessly with his dorky, endearing self and bunny smile. Slotting into your life effortlessly, becoming a constant beyond the late night dick appointments and becoming one of your best friends, someone you text and exchange dank memes with on a daily basis, someone you trust. You adapt to him quickly, and he accepts you unconditionally. In an odd way, it’s like he’s always meant to be by your side. It’s like the cosmos knew.

You hear Jungkook humming from behind you, comfortably settled on his side of the bed, while you’re hacking away at your laptop to finish your paper. You normally can’t work with noise, but his soft humming falls quite sweetly on your ears.

“Hey, you almost done?”

You spin around and spot Jungkook in only a pair of sweatpants, flaunting the ripples of his toned chest and abdomen. You have no idea why he even bothers to put his pants on when both of you know that he’s going to take off them later.

“Getting a little impatient?”

A little pout plays on his lips, “No, it’s just that… You’ve been at it for hours and I’m kind of sleepy.”

“O-Oh, have you been you waiting for me? Why don’t you get ready first?”

“Actually, I thought we could, you know, just sleep tonight,” he smiles sheepishly, the curve of his cheek squished from where he is lying down on his pillow.

“You mean like…?”

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

You nod.

“Then hurry finish your work and get your ass here. My arms are kind of lonely here. And it’s cold.”

You can’t deny that he looks so gorgeous, so tempting, waiting patiently for you with that familiar tender gleam in his eyes as he pats down at the empty spot beside him.

“You’re cold? You’re literally my personal heater,” you laugh, tinges of amusement dancing in your orbs, slipping under the sheets beside him.

Chuckling softly, he leans in and makes sure there’s as little space between your bodies as possible from head to toe, until the tip of his nose is brushing against yours and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He playfully throws a leg over yours, pressing the strong cleave of his chest up against you and his body heat immediately engulfs you, sated and warm. There’s a fire in him, made of soft, satin embers.

Jungkook holds back smiling like the fool he is, busy drinking the sight of you and the closeness of you in, but that roseate flush that blooms over his face betrays his heart’s desire, spreading across the bridge of his nose and then over his cheekbones. The way his long, feather-like eyelashes brush the bone of his structured cheeks doesn’t escape your notice either.

If stars could take human form, they’d look a lot like Jungkook.

“Want to hear a bed pun that Jin-hyung bombed on us today?”

“Sure,” you feel a smile growing steadily across yours too, resembling his.

“Never mind,” he shrugs casually, his eyes crinkling up at the corners “It’s kind of sheety.”

“I fucking hate you!” You let out a whole-hearted laugh, doubling over to shove a pillow at Jungkook’s chest, “Don’t know why I put up with your dumb ass.”

“Because you love my dick!”

bonus

[you] [16:35] hello are you open for business today [16:36] i would like to make a dick appointment

[Big Dick Dude 👅] [16:36] hi yes, welcum [16:36] we have a slot from 8pm all the way till 9am the next morning [16:37] we provide dinner service too. any preference?

[you] [16:37] i would like some nuggets with a Big Dick on the side

[Big Dick Dude 👅] [16:37] okie dokies. your reservation has been confirmed [16:37] n.e ways, want to hear a joke about my dick? [16:37] never mind, it’s too long

[you] [16:38] sorry can i cancel my appointment? i don’t remember asking for a lame willy

hope you enjoyed the preview! i can feel another long ass fic coming,, can just feel it in my left tit. jokes aside, the plot be pretty thick but it’s basically [BREAKING] 70% idiots pining for each other hopelessly, 15% smut, 10% angst and 5% me talking about the stars in jungkook’s eyes. also, did i mention that i want to eat jungkook’s ass? yeah, adding that to my fic 👉👈

i haven’t fully planned out all the scenes but! this will do for now pls give me the strength and motivation to finish writing this by mid july... or else school is going to resume and... i might disappear for another 6 months 🤪🤪🤪

the title is a song by Niki !! pls give it a listen i love her!! and if you liked the preview,, would you be so kind enough to send me your thots... or like/rb it hehe thank you mi lovelies 💗

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (15)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 49.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"So," Phil starts, and then pauses. He has no real idea how to say this.

His parents wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts and his mum mutes the telly. Having their undivided attention doesn't really help, it just makes Phil sweat a bit. He can't even bring himself to sit down, too wired with anxious energy as he is.

The video has only been live for a day, but it's already one of Phil's most popular. People are clamoring in the comments for more; demands for proof and simple curiosity about what could explain his experiences. He's already had a call from Martyn about the benefits of going back and doing an update, but PJ and Sophie have put their two cents in as 'absolutely not'. Chris offered a don't care and then asked for Phil's mum's lasagna recipe.

Phil wants to stay. It's not so much about the mystery, for him, but he's pretty sure his friends and maybe even his brother already know that. He's got his own reasons for not buying a train ticket the moment the video went live and asking his divisive audience what they wanted him to do. Yeah, he'd been sort of hoping for this outcome.

He's not sure if he wants to stay for himself, for the stagnation that being here allows him, or if he wants to stay for deep dimples and a nice laugh. Probably a bit of column A and a bit of column B, if he's honest with himself.

"I uploaded the video on this case," Phil tells his parents. "And there were a lot of, um, unanswered questions. Because of that whole thing with the footage."

"Phil," his dad says, exasperation in his voice already.

"And that means more money from one case," Phil presses on, "because I don't have many expenses here and the ad revenue was really good in comparison to my last five videos. Martyn really thinks I should look into this some more. I promise I won't be here for months or anything, I just - just give me another week. Please, I just need a week."

Money talk usually gets his parents to back down a bit, but they exchange a long look between them that convinces Phil it isn't going to work this time. His mind is already whirring quickly, trying to settle on arguments that it thinks might win him this battle. He considers telling them that this is more than just a video to him, that his whole future feels like it's resting on this one mystery, but he has a suspicion that they wouldn't be very impressed with that lack of foresight. He's ready to bring out specific numbers when their silent communication breaks and his mum gives him a small smile.

"Phil," she says, echoing his dad with a bit more warmth and a lot more pity. "You know we need to talk about this, dear, why don't you sit down?"

He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets so they don't see the trembling. He's not scared, he's just anxious, and his brain and body are conspiring to make him feel like he's going to die if something unexpected happens.

Phil doesn't like change. He doesn't like seeing his childhood house like this, he doesn't like having his career up in the air, and he doesn't like the way his parents no longer trust him to do what's best for himself. The worst part is that he's not even sure they're wrong - Phil knows he isn't thinking logically right now, that Martyn is the one who even mentioned ad revenue while Phil was busy wondering how best to prove himself.

"I'm good," says Phil. He hopes that the nerves aren't as palpable as they feel to him.

"Okay, well," his mum says, briskly rearranging things on the coffee table like she has to be doing something with her hands while they talk about this. He's reminded a bit of Dan in the coffee shop, of Chris in the attic, and he wonders what it is about him that makes people need to split their focus like that. "Your dad and I have been talking."

"About how I need to grow up?" Phil offers, heart in his throat. It feels like he might laugh or cry at any moment. "Yeah. I've noticed."

"We're retiring, Phil," his dad says. That's not exactly news to Phil - he knows why they're selling the house, after all - but he bites his tongue and lets his dad speak. "We've understood the... unstable nature of your work for several years now, but we can't keep bailing you out whenever you have a bad month. You're a smart man and you've got a good degree, you should have something steadier under your belt."

"We love how creative you are," Phil's mum chimes in. It almost sounds like they've practiced this. Phil bites down harder. "And if you can channel that creativity in a way that isn't so dangerous, you'll have our full support."

Phil kind of wishes that he already had their full support, but he's already had this conversation with himself. The work isn't fun for him anymore, and the risk of getting arrested for trespassing isn't a low one. It's almost not worth it when he doesn't have that full-blown excitement about a case.

He doesn't need every haunt to have a nice ending wrapped up with a bow, but he does need to like the content he's producing. Otherwise there isn't any point to it.

Still. It sucks to hear.

Phil deflates a little bit. His automatic defensiveness that springs up whenever his parents start questioning his many bad decisions in life is fading to something that feels like bone-deep exhaustion. The anxiety is still there, thrumming under his skin, but there's nothing he can really do about that. The truth is that he's been feeling listless and defeated and trapped for a lot longer than he's been back in his parents' house. There's no real point in pretending otherwise.

"Give me a week," he repeats, quiet. "I want to finish this project either way, y'know? Just let me stay for the rest of this week and - and if it doesn't pan out, if I don't find anything new, then... then I'm done. I'll stop. I'll find something else."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" his mum asks. The relief that pulls at her shoulders and her pursed lips is enough for Phil to be sure.

"Yeah," says Phil. He gives them a little shrug. "I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. I like making videos and exploring places with cool stories, and even talking to people has been getting better. But you're... you've got a point. I can't keep doing this forever. Not at the pace and quality I like to maintain. If this video goes well, it might help me break into a more diverse and less dangerous niche, which would make everyone happy, I think."

His dad nods at him. "Okay. You can stay until Sunday, because that's when we're going to the Isle. You can do whatever editing and post-production stuff you need to when you get back to Brighton. We'll expect a call when you know for sure what you're going to do, Phil."

Phil swallows, clenches his fists tighter in his pockets. "You'll be the first to know."

--

Nobody asks Phil to leave, but he can't stay in the aggressively neutral version of his parents' house and field their 'casual' questions about what sort of things he might want to do if YouTube doesn't work. He escapes to the city again, sending a message to Dan on the bus. Instead of asking if they want to hang out with him, he simply asks where he can meet them today. As if it's a given that they're going to be spending time together.

Maybe that's presumptuous of him, but Dan uses an exclamation mark when they reply, im at home!, so Phil thinks it's probably fine.

Dan meets him at the door this time, mid-ramble about the broken dishwasher in their flat as if social niceties are no longer expected of them. That suits Phil. He grins back at Dan and joins them in the small but tidy galley kitchen, letting Dan talk his ear off while they scrub at some discoloured Tupperware.

"Sorry," Dan interrupts themself, turning big and apologetic eyes on Phil like they've just registered that he's standing there. "I'm having a weird brain day. Bit all over the place, you know."

"That's fine," Phil says honestly. He smiles, because Dan doesn't look all that convinced by it. "No, really, I don't mind. I like listening to you talk."

The blush spreads across Dan's face too quickly for them to hide by turning away. They try, anyway, and Phil is left looking at their face in profile, turned down and rosy as it is. "Normally I at least break for breath. What's new with you?"

"Since two days ago?" Phil teases. Dan's dimple makes an appearance right before the smile splits their face, and Phil has to twist his own fingers together so he doesn't reach out and poke at it. He's still working through some stuff, still doesn't want to make any decisions about this without thinking it over carefully, but he's never been good at resisting temptation either. "Uh, not much. My parents are still on my case. I'm getting good feedback on the video, but you probably know that already."

"It was a good video," says Dan. They pause as they dry their big hands on an old tea towel. "I... appreciate you saying that stuff about me."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Dan meets his eyes again, almost stubbornly ignoring the colour in their own cheeks. "I can appreciate things that you think are true, dingus. Take the gratitude already."

Phil grins. "Never."

--

There are snacks after that and some video games that Phil loses spectacularly and some good ferret snuggles. As the afternoon turns to evening, Phil watches Dan rearrange some titles on the bookshelf as they chatter about one of their science-y classes, no longer self conscious about how much they're talking. He's sitting on Dan's soft, unmade bed with Pixel, who keeps rolling around in the sheets like she's trying to get comfortable.

Phil is already comfortable. It's hard for him to ignore that Dan's bedroom feels so much like a safe haven in the way that his old house no longer does.

At some point Dan gives up on whatever system they were trying to implement. They pick Tofu up off the floor and flop onto the bed with Phil, wiggling around in almost the exact same way Pixel had. Phil presses his lips together tightly so he doesn't laugh.

"I think that things can be improved," Dan is saying, and Phil tries to figure out if they're still talking about the environment or if Dan has picked up the loose thread from their earlier rant about Bethesda. Pixel and Tofu are both running around like Dan and Phil are just bony jungle gyms, and Dan barely even stutters when one of them steps on their nose. "Of course they can be improved, it's not something you just give up on when things get tough, but the problem is that the people in charge have to implement the changes that are necessary for improvement, and - ow, that's my ear, don't bite that - and, uh... where was I?"

"You were telling me about climate change," says Phil. "Or potentially Todd Howard's ambivalence towards a quote-unquote 'perfect game'. I honestly lost track."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Phil's anxiety rears its head for the first time since he got here, but luckily he hasn't stuck his foot in his mouth this time - Dan starts laughing, more or less cackling, and they roll closer to Phil to bury their face in a pillow.

Phil grins and reaches out to tug at one of Dan's curls, fascinated by the way it just springs back into place. He's done this to PJ once or twice or six times, but he's usually had a couple drinks before he resorts to it. Dan comes out of hiding with tears of laughter welling up in their pretty brown eyes and their dimples in full force, grinning up at Phil like he's the funniest person in the world.

"Those are both really important issues," Dan says, trying their best to sound deadpan when they're so obviously gleeful.

They wiggle around again and Phil says, "You look exactly like Pixel when you do that."

He's pretty sure that Dan honks at that, but he's immediately distracted by a ferret trying to bite his eyebrow.

This is good. Phil likes this. He's trying to dig himself out of the mindset that he'd backed himself into when he first started noticing Dan, because PJ might have had a point. Okay, so PJ definitely had a point, and Phil has been a bit of an idiot.

He won't know for sure how Dan feels about him being gay and uncompromising about that fact unless he asks, and he doesn't think he's ready to do that just yet. But there's a rainbow flag on Dan's wall and they don't consider themselves not not a guy, so... Phil thinks that maybe he's been assigning a strictness to Dan's own relationship to gender and sexuality that isn't actually there.

Dan is talking again, to their ferrets this time, and Phil is almost overwhelmed by the force of affection that washes over him now that he isn't trying so hard to hold it back. Dan's leg is pressed against his own and they're holding Pixel up like they're playing airplane with her and Phil likes them so goddamn much.

"Did you want to," Phil starts, interrupting Dan's musing about what goes on in a ferret's tiny brain. Dan looks up at him with such genuine happiness on their face that Phil's words stick in his throat. He should be asking if Dan wants to go out for dinner again or if they've seen whatever blockbuster action film is playing in cinemas this week, but that's not what comes out of his mouth. When Dan raises their eyebrows quizzically, what Phil ends up asking is, "Uh, come spend the night in the haunted house with me?"

Great. Real romantic.

--

Dan doesn't make a secret about how much they hate this plan. They say it over and over, but they don't take any of the outs that Phil offers them.

"I hate this plan," Dan says as they make a bunch of sandwiches. It seems like way too much for just the two of them, but Phil isn't about to say no to having a near endless supply of peanut butter and bread when they're stuck in a dusty attic again. "This is stupid. You should have just left it at the first video, Phil, that was fine."

"You don't have to come with me," Phil reminds them for the umpteenth time.

Dan glares. "No, I'm coming."

"You're a very complicated person," says Phil.

With a heavy sort of sigh, like they've been dealing with Phil for years instead of a week, Dan finally sets the peanut butter down. "Look," they say, pointing the dull knife at Phil for emphasis. "I can hate this plan and still want to make sure you don't get fucking arrested or possessed or trip down the stairs or something. PJ knows where I live."

"I think he'd be in the camp of me deserving it if I died in the Wilkins place," Phil says, his lips tugging into a grin. "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan mutters. "Will you at least tell me why we're going back? I know you're fucking stubborn and all, but I didn't figure you for someone who beats dead horses."

"Oh, that's a terrible idiom," Phil says, mostly to himself. He reaches out to squeeze Dan's shoulder when he sees them get all huffy at the apparent avoidance. The tension leaving Dan's body under his palm is frustrating to feel, because there's nothing Phil wants more than to lean into it. The problem, of course, is that he really does need to talk to Dan before he starts trying to hug them in their own kitchen. Phil lets his hand drop awkwardly between them and shrugs. "Well, uh. This is the first time in a long time I've actually been excited about a project. And that makes me think that maybe I've worn out my welcome here. Not... not here like Manchester here, but here like... my job, here."

Dan leans their hip against the counter and looks at Phil with their brow all furrowed. "This is an ultimatum," they say. "Like, to yourself."

"Yeah," says Phil. "I need to solve this - or at least find something else that I can show to people. Because if I don't, then I need to actually look at myself and admit I'm not doing something I like anymore."

"It sounds like you're already looking at yourself," Dan says quietly.

"I guess."

"No, you are," Dan insists, their voice stronger now that they can assert an opinion. "Trust me, I'm a pro at unproductive self-reflection and existentialism. Who am I, what does it all matter, I know the song and dance. And I don't think that getting more footage is going to erase what you're already thinking, Phil. Tell me if I'm out of line, whatever, but if you want to do something else with your life then just do something else with your life."

The automatic defensiveness threatens to make Phil snap back at Dan that this isn't any of their business, but he's had a lot of practice in keeping his negative thoughts to himself. He gives Dan a little humourless smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"You're twenty-one," Phil says. "And a student. I don't really expect you to get it."

Dan puts their hands on their hips like they're settling in for a proper row, but instead they just say, "I know. I don't know what you're going through, sure, I doubt anyone knows what anyone else is going through at any time. And, yeah, I've got another year before I have to worry about my career. But I've made some fucking tough decisions in my life, mate. I dropped out of my law course after two lectures. I don't talk to my family anymore. I've tried on so many different names and labels that it would make your head spin. You don't like your job anymore, and one video isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, probably not." Phil looks down at their little collection of sandwiches, feeling lost and stubborn and a bit scared about how much Dan sees him. "But I have to try, y'know? I can't just give up. I have to try."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, Dan sighs.

"Okay. Put these in a container, we don't use unnecessary plastic in this flat. Just whatever they fit in. I'll make some coffee for the road and find our Scrabble board."

[thefamily]

Chapter Two 1824 October 10th Part 1: Snow

A/N: Re-uploaded and semi-heavily edited.

(Word Count:1657)

Prev

        It’s been a full year since Jack met Liru and since then things have gotten a little weird but also a little better. Now they feed him everyday, granted it’s a piece of stale bread but it’s better then nothing, besides Liru gives him food everyday even when she’s busy she’ll just send Stella with a sack of food. Although weird things keep happening around here since then. For one Liru keeps getting spotted more, almost every week as it was about once every other month before that. Second Mrs. BlanchField, The orphanage’s owner, had gotten attacked and lost her left hand, the one she slapped him with a few hours before hand, after he told Liru. She won't say what happened but he thinks it might have been a wild dog or something. The third thing was that whenever Liru gave him flowers, instead of wilting they would grow whenever he held them and wherever he went that plant life seemed to flourish.

        Another thing was that there were two voices in my head now. One in pain that sounded a lot like me but sounded like it was struggling to speak, and the other was this weird… noise? He’s not sure what it is but he does know that it’s either scared of Liru or hates her. Probably both in all honesty and the thing he hates the most about it is that it keeps trying to control him, like it’s trying to possess me as if it was a demon… he thinks it wants to hurt Liru but he’s not sure, but what he is sure of is that he won't let it.

        The final thing is actually what is happening now, he was doing what Liru said to do, waiting outside watching the roads while staying out of people's way praying to whatever higher power exists that they leave him alone, his back already hurts bad enough from this morning. All of the sudden he can feel the people tense but the land almost seems to relax. 

        He doesn't know how or why he’s never noticed how the land seemed to be tense up until this moment but it’s relaxation seems to make him relax with it. He quickly stands up, his attention pulled to the dirt road where people seem to be scrambling away from until his eyes land on a large snow white horse with a main and tail the color of the night sky and he swears he can see it’s eyes glowing green from here.

        The horse seemed to be a few centimetres smaller than Stella with something in its mouth as it trotted up the road to the orphanage. He gets up walking to the road, knowing that the horse is here for me, stopping in the middle of it as the horse slows to a stop in front of him. Jack can see that it’s parchment in its mouth now and he carefully reaches up to grab it from it’s mouth with everyone’s eyes staring into the back of his head, the harsh whispers already beginning. He quickly opens it and begins to read it, letting the horse lean down and sniff his hair, shivering a bit when he feels it’s cold breath run down his spine.

        His name is Snow. He’ll take you to me today. When he stops, say ‘This is home to the queen’. Happy Birthday Πυγολαμπίς. -Liru.

        Jack smiles a little at the use of the nickname she gave him, Lightning Bug. She still won't tell him why she calls him that. He tries to look up at Snow but he seems to be focusing towards my back sniffing much like a dog would. Jack does his best to look at Snow’s face as he reaches up petting his neck, speaking in a low voice only the horse could hear,

        “Hey Snow,” The horse whinny happily, causing me to smile “are you here to take me to Liru?” He feels his head nod a bit before he suddenly lets out an angry snort, the ice cold air rush over the lash marks making him wince and jerk away from the feeling. Why did he do- the throbbing pain from his back cut’s that train of thought quickly before he freezes.

        It’s Liru’s horse, of course it would know! The horse suddenly rears back snarling, not snorting, snarling and Jack quickly moves out of the way before turning just as Snow slams his hooves down on the ground towards Mr. Blanchfield who fell backwards only a few feet from where Jack was, clearly having intended to yank Jack away.

        Snow begins to stomp towards Mr. Blanchfield as if trying to crush the cowering man beneath the giant hooves. As soon as Jack realizes this he quickly scrambles up, ignoring the burning protest coming from his back, and runs in front of the man throwing his hands up and yelling “STOP!” Snow stopped in his place just in front of Jack snorting, glaring at the retreating back of Mr. BlanchField.

        Jack whispers in a soothing voice trying his best to copy Liru’s whenever he himself begins to panic, 

        “Easy boy, why don’t we go to Liru.” That got his attention and he quickly knelt down for Jack who quickly got on and held onto the horse mane loosely so he didn't fall off as the horse stood back up.

        Jack looks around and he can feel himself shrink under their glares and whispers of calling him a freak and Snow a monster. He leans down burying his face into Snow’s mane, feeling himself beginning to shake as Snow huffs angrily as he turns around. Jack tightens his grip just as Snow bolts off and Jack lets out a yelp despite expecting it. After a few minutes Jack sits up a bit as Snow slows down a bit but doesn’t stop and he can see that they were moving through the forest now and he forces himself to relax again despite the aching feeling in his back thinking to himself

        ‘Liru can’t know, I can’t tell her she’ll be furious that it happened again,’ Jack shakes his head slightly, knowing that it’s pointless to hope she wouldn’t find out. He can’t even find it within himself to be worried about what would happen because he knows no matter what, he’s safe with her from now on.

        'Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing if she finds out.' Something whispers in the back of his head,

        He closes his eyes listening to the wind as they whip past everything and to the sound of Snow’s hooves hitting the ground which surprises him because he was honestly not expecting that. He thought it would have been like Stella’s and make no noise at all but guess not. He opens his eyes again, his mind flashing back to the looks he got from the people of the village, their whispers. It’s not the first time this has happened either and nowhere near the worst but it still hurts.

        He sighs to himself knowing he was going to get beat when he went back tonight,

        ‘If I go back tonight,’ And then his mind was racing through every offer Liru gave him and he could feel regret churning in his stomach from not accepting any of her offers, even more so when he realizes she stopped asking about 4 months ago.

        He looks at their surroundings as they exit the forest and into a field with a sword and a red sash wrapped around the handle and a morning star with green sash wrapped around the handle crossed in the ground with the sword. Snow slows down to a trot and he can feel something is off about this place. Not in a bad way but… not in a good way either it was more like if he wasn't invited he would have his head cut off. The feeling got stronger the closer we got to the middle of the field, but he could also smell something, it smelt kind of like Liru honestly, Roses, fresh water, and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

        They’re almost to the middle now and he can hear multiple voices in different languages saying something. They seemed to be saying- no, asking the same thing from what he heard they were asking,

         “Who are you?” over and over until Snow came to a stop in the middle of the field, over the weapons in the ground. The voices all went quiet before saying in unison, a male voice dominating them all, in their languages.

        “Oh, you’re her lightning bug.” Jack freezes at the words and he can feel his cheeks turning pink wondering how the voices not only knew Liru but her nickname for him. Before he can dive deeper into that thought Snow neighs softly reminding him what he needs to do in the first place. He looks around at the field one last time before looking ahead and saying in a soft voice,

        “This valley is home to the Queen.”

        Meanwhile, Liru is sitting on top of one the libraries bookcases, a book in her lap about Body and Soul Amalgamation, books around the same or similar subjects floating around her unconsciously as she tries to make sense of what is written on the pages before her. She goes to say something to Serenity who, now that she looked at her seemed to be in some sort of trance. 

        She went to pick up the grey chinchilla but before she could Serenity snapped out of her trance as a voice flooded not only the library or even the castle but the valley itself. She smiles, recognizing that familiar voice and words being said together for the first time, looking up to the glass ceiling with birds and butterflies fluttering in and out through open panels whispering, “Welcome home Jack.”

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[mercurymetals]

burn in paradise

I made three separate attempts at this over the past few months because I couldn’t decide how I wanted to approach this idea. One of these was even quite fluffy, but in the end I went with my usual cryptic mess of a style, and today I finally managed to wrap it up into a somewhat presentable state, so this is what you’re getting.

Both reader and Narancia are in their early 20s in this. No Stands, but Narancia’s still in Passione.

Warnings: Brief description of gore, and implied violence.

Your thumb flicks across the screen. In the dark, the blue light splays across your face, bright rectangles shaping in your pupils as you stare at the photos.

This one's a selfie you took with them just before the Fall Out Boy concert last summer. Evelina is sporting a huge grin and that limited edition FOB T-shirt she got years and years before you guys actually managed to attend a real concert. Leo is making a face, lips curled and pierced tongue out, his pink hair spiked with way too much gel, just as always.

You flick again. This one's from the trip you took to Paris over one weekend. Nora is in this one too, and the four of you are stood together with your arms around each other, the Eiffel Tower a huge blotch against the cityscape behind you. The next few photos are mainly you four making silly poses in the Louvre Museum in front of all the paintings. You smile as you look over these moments caught in time, your chest warm with nostalgia.

You hear footsteps. You dim your phone and slot it underneath the pillow, then shut your eyes tight. You don't move as you feel him shuffle into the bed by your side. There's a weight of an arm around you, heavy. Comforting.

...Heavy.

You try to fall asleep, but the nostalgic warmth has left you, and without it you feel so alone. Sometimes you think only when in sleep can you feel the comfort of the missing ones, and maybe that is why it escapes you.

You shift until you're facing him. You inch closer, until you can feel the level expanse of his chest with each breath against yours.

"What is it?" he murmurs sleepily.

"Nothing," you whisper. "Just... can't sleep."

He holds you closer, his hand around your back, your head tucked under his chin. You breathe deeply. He smells like cinnamon and sweat and a hint of orange from his favourite shampoo. You close your eyes and let yourself be enveloped by him.

You don't fall asleep for hours.

* *

In the morning you wake up and try to check the time on your phone, but it is gone. You sit up, your mind stirring with wakefulness, and then spot a tray on the table by your side of the bed.

It has a plate of slightly burned omelette, completely burnt toast that's been messily scraped clean, and a glass of orange juice. There's a note by it that reads, in squiggly script:

‘Sorry, got called in for a job.

Are you ank anxiu worrying again? Don't worry, I'll help you out. This is step one! Next one will be even better!!

Love you!!!

                                   - Narancia’

You look over the breakfast and smile. At least you've still got him. His is a different kind of warmth than the sweet nostalgia, but you want for it all the same.

His is a hot warmth, a crackling heat that is just a degree away from leaving a burn. But as whole-heartedly as the flames surround you, you know they will not singe your skin. He may have his flaws - he's a little untidy, he likes junk food all too much, he has a bit of a temper, sometimes he screams and other times he comes back with bloodied knuckles and cuts and ripped clothes and a violent spark in his eye - but you know he is sweeter than anyone, and his smile is enough to light up your heart.

You put the tray on your lap and you eat, missing him. When you're done, you go to put the tray away, and notice there’s something else scribbled on the back of the note.

‘I know what you did. Don't ever do that again. OK?’

You remember about the phone, and then you are missing it. Missing them. You are always missing things, these days.

* *

One night he takes you out to a bar. It's cheap and lively and the warmth it has reminds you of the careless warmth of your college days. Then you remember why you had to drop out, and you drop the thought out of your mind, too.

It's good and then it's better, for a short while, because someone taps you on the shoulder. You look and then you are diving headfirst into that nostalgia again, because the face in front of you is familiar and it is smiling and your lips stretch into a grin so wide it hurts your cheeks.

"I can't believe it's really you! It's been so long!" Your friend cries cheerfully, and you laugh, lost in the sea of memories his eyes bring when they meet yours.

Then he asks: "Who's that?" And turns his gaze behind you and you are struck by the ruthless present.

"My boyfriend, Narancia," you introduce with a smile that twitches at the edges as you watch them shake hands. Narancia isn't smiling.

"You need to catch me up on everything!" Your friend is sitting next to you and ordering a drink, and you think about all the things you can share with him, meaning none. This whole past year you have been caught in a bear trap, or two, or three, and all you could do was watch your skin and flesh rip from your bones as you tried to tear yourself out of their unmoved and unmoving jaws.

In some ways, they are still here, caught at your ankles, and you feel them sink into you a little deeper when your friend turns his smile back to you. All the same you let yourself be distracted by his stories, huddling closer to his temporary warmth. You're not sure why, but you are sure he is like a bonfire in a rainstorm - strong and beautiful and bright, but in the end, destined to be extinguished.

"Well, I'll be going out for a smoke," he says, lifting from the seat.

Narancia gets to his feet. "Me, too."

You look at him. "You don't smoke," you say.

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "I just want some fresh air."

Your friend is laughing. "Don't know how fresh it'll be with me smoking, but sure, come along."

They leave and in that loud and bustling place, you feel alone again. The bartender talks and gives you a drink and you sip it and wait. You sip it and wait. You sip it and wait.

Hours pass by. No, it's been ten minutes. That’s a long time for a smoke. You wait another five. The door opens and you look up, but it's someone else. You look past the couple that enters, but see nothing save for the dark, and then the door closes again.

You are outside before you know it. Around you, there is nothing but an empty street. A couple of street lights and no person in sight. You pause and stand there, lost.

Then you hear it. A noise that sounds something like a muffled cough. Or maybe a wheeze. And then maybe a squish. A scrape. Little hints of noises, nearby.

You turn to the alleyway down the side of the bar, and take a tentative step. You lean in, and peer into the darkness. You want to see nothing, but you are not so lucky. Movements stir in the shadows, and you recognise their forms, see the shape of Narancia leaned over someone on the ground, the lift of his hand enclosed around something sharp and then that soft squelching sound--

You back away, swallowing down any noise that threatens to spill. You stumble over to the door of the bar, and then you stand there, clutching the knob, your breaths loud enough to muffle any other sounds that might lurk in the vicinity.

Someone taps your arm. It's so familiar that you turn around with hope, but you meet round eyes of vicious purple and you freeze.

Narancia's breaths are fast too, heavy with unspoken deeds. He looks you over for a moment, and then says: "I think we should leave."

You tilt your head, lips quivering into a smile. "Is, is everything alright?"

"Yeah," he says, eyes dashing to the side. "Your friend left. I dunno what was up with him. Anyway, let's just go."

There's a speck of blood on his cheek. No, maybe that's just dirt. You step closer to him, surrounded by that scent he carries with him sometimes after coming home from a job. Sharp and metallic. His black clothes don't show any stains, but his fingertips look a little darker than usual. Maybe that's just the light.

You reach up and wipe the mark off his cheek, and then you nod. "Okay. Let's go," you say, and his face breaks into a wide grin that sends a bolt of warmth down your spine.

He hooks his arm around yours and pulls you away from the bar and the street and the icy-cold alleyway. You look over your shoulder and remember the bonfire, but you are surrounded by the crackling heat and it forces you to inch closer to Narancia’s side. He sees you looking, and his hand finds yours.

It’s red hot and sticky and it burns, burns - but no, that's just the squeeze of his fingers around your knuckles. You squeeze back, and the tide of those flames soothes away from you, appeased.

You stop looking, but you can't help thinking of that lingering pain, the warm pulsing in your skin from his touch, faint and wicked and obvious, so obvious.

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Dearest

i feel like this chapter has a lot. huh. i’m the the lot is some great content though.

remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception is always appreciated.

-

A snore crept out of one of the two, gentle albeit messy… What a distracting noise, yet that of comfortable nostalgia from being bothered by such a thing, even if both were asleep. 

Though regardless, the spring sunrise shined from the window. Its rays focusing on the room and gleaming on the third-grade textbooks, barely finished, or the piles of papers and utensils on the floor. The conundrum of a mess bustling itself with scribbles of drawings and poetry and leftover clothing picked out after shopping with assumedly-stolen money. Sheet music notes and lesson-charts sat comfortably on the side, piling itself and waiting for when it can scatter around the room with the rest. A ukulele shined from next to the bed and the bookshelf left ignored from the wavering sun whilst a switchblade was left hidden and ignored in the closet for the first time in ages. And with such a sight from the young boys’ room, the loving chaos still hid from outsiders that never knew of one of the two. 

Those two however, shined beyond the rest. From one taking up majority of the bed, and the other almost fighting back with the blankets, they tangled up together in comfort of one another. Their breathing calmed with both of their touch from an earlier embrace and the mere knowledge of the other’s presence lifted one’s fears.  

In the light, one awoke, bothered by it. His mixed eyes pinched with the rising sun, and in the matter of seconds, he realized their tangled position. Despite the oddity, he chuckled silently at the normality. With careful arms, he unraveled Oliver’s arms over his and attempted his best at rolling off again. 

“You aren’t leaving him, are you,” she asked.

“Of course, not,” he whispered back. Away from the bed, his mind wandered to what item in the room to pick up first. For one, the instrument was off limits for the time being after almost breaking a string. Secondly, a sad burnout began erupting for him towards his sketchbook, as Oliver explained prior. Silence was always a rule for the night by Ayu’s standards, from when he snuck across rooms to be rid of his mother’s bottles, to even then to not possibly wake another mother. 

He would have winced at the last choice of the textbook, however in his luck, Oliver stirred. Stirring always meant his soft waking in Ayu’s head. In the anticipation of the new day, Ayu lofted his head at the bed again, waiting for Oliver’s stirring to end, and his eyes to flutter up. 

Oliver met his innocent eyes when he first awoke, shining brightly with those colors of blue and grey, no red in sight. His hands clasped empty, with the person he hugged in the night sitting on the floor next to him. Groggy, he sat up, pulling the blankets that fell over back into the bed. “Can you fix the blankets today?” 

“Yeah.” Oliver rolled out of bed himself with the reply from Ayu. “If you let me skip the math questions today,” he smiled. 

“Ayu, you can’t avoid long division for a week.” Oliver picked up some leftover papers from last night on the floor, forming yet another pile. “It isn’t even that hard to figure out.”

“Says the one who never struggled in school.” He grabbed a paper off of Oliver’s hands. “Besides, aren’t I getting a lesson from Eilwen today?”

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen her in a few months,” he took away the drawing. In it held a simple portrait of outside the window frame. Oliver smiled at the simplicity but continued, “And you haven’t been in school for almost five years. There’s a difference.” 

Ayu pouted, to Oliver’s pity.

“To make up for it, I’ll make whatever you’d like in the fridge,” Oliver said. 

He however retorted, “Isn’t that just the usual deal?”

That was actually a fair point surprisingly. “Well, yeah– but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it? Can’t do much when I’m eleven.”

“… I’ll take it.”

Ayu still sat on the floor with a paper and book on his lap; Oliver lied around in the freshened bed relaxing himself from finished work. Though, Ayu reached out the paper, pointing at a section of the notes, and asked, “Ollie, what’s the fraction remainder of this one?” 

“Two-thirds.” 

*

Eilwen sat by the edge of her candlelit room, darkened from the lack of light. Her head balanced crookedly to the rest of her body with her hands placed justly underneath. The pocket-watch seemed nowhere in sight but in front of her bestowed multiple items. 

Ayu stood by the door, thoughts curating on what sort of lesson he would experience today. His nose tickled and ran from the odd scent of the room. And his eyes burned for no apparent reason. However; remained quiet without much of a complaint.

“Ayu, you do know your eyes are bright red at the moment, correct?” 

In the question and the realization, he blinked and shook his head. “No, not really… But it doesn’t happen that much. Why does it smell funny in here?” 

She answered the second question as a brush off. “I burnt some sage here before you arrived to see effects on you. But, you’re saying your eyes are something of occasion,” she asked. 

“… I guess?” 

The tension grew from Eilwen’s end. She breathed out. “I didn’t call you here for a lesson,” she said, “You’re here so I can test you.”

“What?” The word test frightened Ayu from Oliver’s past mentions of it. “Why do you want to–”

“Your associations with Akeldama are rather peculiar, are they not?” She stood up, holding the first item up against her gloves. Despite the covered cloth, the item steamed in her hands. 

Ayu nodded, backing away in the process. 

“I want to understand why Akeldama has such affiliations with you from what Alice had told me… What your connection with him is, in a sense.” Her eyes tilted towards the other items behind them then. “I assume you heal quickly like Oliver?” 

The question rang worry. “Why are you asking?” 

“I won’t if you don’t abide to it, but I hoped to see at least some blood samples from you to be frank.” The item still steamed in her hand, but her face showed no reaction. 

The sight brought Ayu to ignore her answer. “Isn’t that thing painful?” 

She finally held it in the sight of Ayu; it was a cross. “Why, yes it’s supposed to from our contracts with Akeldama. But I’ve held one enough times for my hands to be null void.” Her eyes blinked into a pause. “It’s safe to assume that this may hurt, and you may run off if you like.”

But the door already left them. 

“Are you willing to help me run these tests?” 

With hesitance, but curiosity, Ayu nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

Soon enough, Ayu was seated in a chair placed near the table, oddly ready for any testing.

Kneeling closer to him, she asked, “Where would you want this placed if it stings?” 

He gestured at his legs, not as boney as their prior meeting, but enough for Eilwen to comment, “You seem to have harmed this place already…”

“Just get it over with,” he said. 

With an eye at him, she replied, “Alright. Please don’t kick if it does hurt. I’ve heard of your strength before.”

And with the comment, she placed the cross down on his shin in the slowest of pace. From the tip of the metal to the mass of the shape, a burning sensation kicked instantly. 

His urge to jolt attacked him with the pain, but instead of doing as such, he hissed instead for her favor, “Stop, stop, stop–”

She herself jolted from the command, and pulled back with a stern expression. Her eyes studied the shin it was placed in, “Oh dear.” 

The recovery from the pain still lasted, up to his stomach’s own urge to somehow vomit. “What?” 

“It seemed to have left a mark.” 

“It what?!” 

“Do you have a pain tolerance?” She asked. “Because it seems to be very harmful.” 

The surprise made Ayu fluster, “How bad is it?” 

“Close to blistering it appears,” she turned to him, “but it looks bad enough that you should have screamed…”

The scent of the room did not help with the minor pain that left regardless. “I can’t compare how bad it was… I don’t think I’ve been hit by someone before. I’ve only hit… others, and myself.” 

Her staring froze. “Is that where these bruises are from?” 

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m dumb aren’t I?” 

“Idiotic.” A hand grabbed bandages from the side and wrapped both injuries. “Let’s see what’s next.”

She pricked deep enough into his finger for a decent amount in her sample vile. The color of his blood strained darker than most other shades he had seen. 

“What are you gonna do with that anyways?”

She answered, “Test it with everything else. The plant will be the more interesting subject considering how an iblis’ blood can be poisonous if found.”

“How poisonous is the monster blood?” It was a strange idea to Ayu, considering he had never seen the blood of the monsters before.

She scoffed, “You can turn into one of them yourself if you indulge in it, though it takes a couple of pints.” She grabbed the cursed cross again, “Let’s try it here first.” 

On top of a wooden plate, the experimenter tipped the vile ever so slightly. With time, the dark blood crept down on into the cross, and at the first touch, the blood burnt off.  

A click nipped from her lips. “Uncommon attributes in your blood I see.” 

Throughout the entire procedures, her hands never wrote notes onto anything, to Ayu’s notice. Her calculations all occurred in her head with little analysis, and the methods all formally played out in her assumptions. In curiosity of these readings, he asked her, “How do you know all this stuff?” 

Already, her focus faced the plant in the very corner. Its stems stuck up in thickness and lines whilst the leaves made no focus for themselves, leaving the stems to wander up and about around the vase. “I know most of these through experience. However, Alice did teach me of basic human study after her days in home remedy.”

Another drop formed from the vile into the plant, and after a mere second effects arose. 

Eilwen stepped back from the reaction, as the stems that stretched so lively began to wilt and grow black. All the parts of the plant dove down from its previous ways and lied dead on its vase with the dark colors quickly proceeding. 

“This…” Eilwen held her breath, only to Ayu’s wonder for the plant. 

Despite its obvious death, once the black corroded through the being, it dissolved back into the vase. Then abruptly sprouted again into snapping little creatures. The creatures almost hissed in wails, seeping out the tiniest bits of liquid, but soon enough a flame was put through it. 

The flame, brought upon by Eilwen and her candle, also died down relatively quickly with the monster. 

Without Ayu even realizing, Eilwen huffed from assumedly her held breath. “That…” She placed her candle down. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

The door appeared once again. 

“You may leave,” she said, “I believe I have enough of what I need… Be wary of what’s to come soon.”

*

Oliver left himself in his ‘I give up’ stance again, lying down in the grass field after ages of exhausting himself over shapeshifting. 

Into the sky, he groaned, “You think it’s supposed to be easier after making a fucking cup disappear but now you’re warping your physical form.” And the frustration leading his hands to pull his face. 

With the sky, he stared at it for far too long. Enough for his focus to trance into the abyss of his blank thoughts. But after another blink, a pair of eyes stared down at him. 

“What’re you doing,” Ayu asked. 

The suddenness of his appearance bolted Oliver up, knocking their foreheads together evenly. “Holy shit,” Oliver hissed while getting up, “where did you come from?”

“I just walked up here!”

“But I didn’t even–” He paused. “Is this how it feels to get invisible-pranked?”

In reaction and quick recovery form the hit, Ayu only blinked. “I don’t know.”

“Great response.” Oliver brought himself up again from Ayu’s arrival. “How come you’re here so early.”

A shrug rolled from his shoulders, “Eilwen let me off just now so I came to watch you practice.”

The new pressure of the hour claimed itself to Oliver. Now with his widened eyes and his lazy state, he waited for Ayu to add. 

“I’ll be quiet support,” he cheered with jazz hands, to the other’s adoration. “But… what are you doing?”

The topic, in which Oliver never wanted to try again, needed to be explained yet again by his sigh, “I got introduced to shapeshifting today.” 

“Oh, my God,” Ayu jumped in his seat, “You’re doing it for once?”

“Yeah,” the excitement rolled Oliver’s eyes over. “But, I have to figure out how to deteriorate my body first!”

And with just those words, Ayu’s expression changed and his head tipped over. 

“… I’ll turn into a black abyss then I can turn into things.”

“Oh!” The idea finally clicked. “That… Okay I get why that’s hard now.” 

Oliver nodded along with him, and sat back down with him. “Today I’m just trying to get my hand to warp.” He placed his hand into front attention, and both him and Ayu stared into it. 

“… Is anything gonna happen?”

“Nope.”

The issue brought some struggles into the table for Ayu’s day, as thought was required. Though luckily, ideas already crept through his mind during the conversation. “Did you try… turn your hand invisible.” 

The command baffled Oliver at first. “What? Okay.” But the command was simple by this point. Within a few seconds, his hand vanished between the two of them. “Now what?” 

He needed to think up of the words. “Pretend like that hand that should be there, belongs to someone else?” 

“Like whose?” 

“I don’t know.” Some digging dove in his mind. “Let’s say Faustus to make fun of him.” 

Oliver chuckled. 

“Faustus wants his hand back,” he said. “But you’re hiding that hand from him.”

“Through invisibility?” 

“No,” he replied. “From making it not exist for him.”

With his foreign words, Oliver followed what Ayu said with hesitance. “Now what?” 

“Turn off the invisible stuff.”

And from those silly words, Oliver did just that. His hand slowly revealed itself, to both of their dismay to see the typical brown. However, soon enough the tips of his fingers appeared, and one was missing.” 

For a few seconds, they both stared. Then Oliver spoke out, “What the fuck?” 

A bend of the hand later, the piece is still gone. He pulled it over and inside the missing piece of limb was a void of nothingness inside the hand. Eyes widened, Oliver shook it back and forth, and then poked himself with the finger. The piece literally was not present. 

Disheveled, Oliver confirmed, “Okay, so I think it worked, but how do I undo it?”

“Uh,” Ayu panicked after realizing even he never knew what he was saying. His own limbs shook in thinking. “Just think it exists again?” 

“I don’t think that’s enough description, Ayu!” 

“Do you think I know what description is,” he barked. “I don’t know, bite your finger?”

“Ayu,” Oliver stated, “My pain tolerance is nonexistent; I’ll bite my finger off if I do that.”

“Fuck you’re right,” he agreed. “And I don’t want to punch you again…”

“Why are all your backup options involving me getting beat up?” 

 Ayu answered back, “Because those are the ones I was always taught!”

“Well, that’s another thing that’s concerning but we’ll talk about that later,” he exclaimed. But it turned out that after their small argument, they looked back at the issue and it already returned. 

They both took a minute, but sighed in relief once they hit the ground. 

“… You really resort to punching?” 

Ayu reminded himself of the comment. After a few shuffles, he said, “I guess so.” He went on, “I ask what to do and it’s pretty much always fighting back… and hit yourself to make you stop. All that stuff.” 

A tense grew in Oliver. “Ayu, that’s really not a good thing?” He rolled over towards Ayu, leaning himself on one arm. “That’s just bad for your wellbeing, and makes you a dick. Besides, it’s cooler to use your wits nowadays.”

Ayu replied, “But I’m not smart, I’m just dumb.” 

And at that moment all the insults Oliver threw months before clicked back to him. Oh shit. “You can be smart, like just now. You were able to figure out deterioration before I could.” 

“I guessed though. I didn’t even know what I was saying.”

“But it worked.” 

“Even though I couldn’t help you get rid of it…” His body turned around, away from Oliver. 

A small frown packed Oliver’s face, obvious of Ayu’s growing discomfort. A new strategy had to be formed, quickly at that. He stood up from their lazy states. “You know what? I think I know what we could do while we’re here.”

“What?”

And Oliver turned invisible. 

“Really,” Ayu complained. 

However, it was all in Oliver’s plans of new fun. Backing up, he set himself to charge at Ayu and run away of impact. Luckily, he gained some speed through his dieting, and the abilities helped. After a decent distance, enough to only view Ayu as a well-sized blob, he ran towards him. Swiftly, the breeze grazed his hair and face at the charge, and with nifty hands, he patted Ayu’s head. 

“Tag,” he yelped while appearing again, only to hide himself once more. 

“Oh,” Ayu got up as well. “Oh, you little fuck,” he smiled. A jump and a kick off later, and he busted running in his speeds.

The speed itself flinched Oliver for its arrival, but he laughed and continued running nonetheless. 

For Ayu, however, was a different story. Despite Oliver’s own advantage of his invisibility, the crunches he formed onto the grass still paved his path everywhere he ran. Then lurking in his ears, Ayu heard those footsteps and all the twists Oliver made in his own escape, an experience he already faced prior. But regardless, he played along with Oliver’s sense of superiority in the game. 

“Come on, Ayu! I’m pretty sure out of anyone, you can catch me,” Oliver cheered. 

Oh, is that what he’s going for? Ayu sighed in his head, but figured Oliver was already putting all his efforts in anyways. Suppose he just wanted to lift his spirits, in fact, he was, but the comment already seemed forced. Regardless, he determined himself to take advantage of the moment. “Alright, guess I will.” 

Tracking Oliver’s running patterns seemed easy enough. His turns, after a good bit of fake-running and waiting, finally made to where Ayu could catch him. And at that time and curve, Ayu ran for the win. 

With Oliver’s breeze of a run, he turned his head to check Ayu’s whereabouts, ready for the next tease. However, he did not expect Ayu to run directly at him in the side, then tackling him with the yell of a, “Tag!” 

The momentum of the tackle left both of them falling and rolling together on the grass in recoil. Through the rolling and tumbling with grass sticking to their clothes, it ultimately ended up with Ayu pinning Oliver underneath him in winning fashion. They stared into each other, but the rolling pains hit them both as Oliver laughed, “Okay, I think I lost.”

Ayu, blinking for a second, laughed back and let go of the position, returning to lie down next to him. 

They giggled off a little more for the childish game, disregarding them still being children.

“The tackle didn’t do anything, did it?” 

“No,” Oliver reassured, “The rolls just cracked my bones a bit much.”

“No breaking?”

“Pretty sure not.”

The new silent peace brought upon Oliver to add on to it. “… How long has it been since we’ve met?”

Ayu said, “We met in October, so that’d make it seven months, right?”

“Good math.”

“Thanks.”

Oliver continued after his compliment. “A lot happened after that, didn’t it?”

“Mainly because of coincidences but fair point.” The grass itched Ayu’s skin but in a comforting manner. “Honestly, the monsters have been gone long enough that I can relax a little more.”

“Yeah, now I’m the only one you have to deal with.”

“Don’t say that!” 

Oliver giggled at his retort, “Okay I’m exaggerating; we haven’t seen the wolf in forever, I know. But you have to admit, I still have monstrous tendencies even if we doubt it.”

“Don’t we all?”

“… Yeah everyone here’s a little fucked up apparently.” 

A calming ambiance chilled them over while they gazed at the sky together. However, for Oliver, the topics that he hid from himself and Ayu rushed back in his mind through the silence. The time was perfect for him to ruin it, but everything always ruined everything, so he pushed ahead. 

“Ayu… How are you feeling right now?” 

Ayu tilted his head towards him. “Good? This is kinda nice, you can say.” 

“No, I don’t mean that,” Oliver said. “I mean, it’s good that you’re feeling good right now but–. How are you feeling about life? With how you got here, and the wishes, or your dreams?”

Ayu gripped his hair. “Isn’t that a little much to ask?” 

“I just want you to let out whatever’s in your mind for once,” Oliver said. “Since I don’t think you’ve ever gotten much of that.”

“Yes, I have,” he argued. 

But it was all invalid with, “Ayu, you told me you were taught to cope by beating stuff up six minutes ago.” 

The counter jabbed Ayu a bit with his own prior words. He blinked a few times, then breathed out. “Okay, but there’s not much to say.” 

“That’s fine, just let it out.” 

Thinking forced Ayu to sit up. “… Where do I start?”

“Anywhere, I assume. And I’ll ask as you go on probably.” 

That help reached Ayu as if nothing touched him. “Okay… I guess let’s start with my dreams?” 

No reply. 

“There’s nothing that bad with my dreams; actually, I think I like them,” he began. “Uhm, I like them because they’re good for my stories. But, they usually add more to it than needed from what people told me, and it makes everything too confusing for them to like. My stories are trashy, compared to how I wanted them to be since… I never told anyone this before, but…”

“But what,” Oliver asked. 

For some reason, Ayu could never control his grin at the motive. “I’m making my comics for somebody; I want them to be proud of me after I worked so hard.”

A smile crept from Oliver. “That’s pretty sweet.” 

However, the tone died after breaking innocence. “They don’t like how I made it, though. It’s disappointing… They said nobody would ever bother to read it… That’s one of the ways I’m kinda incompetent, really incompetent.” 

“Ayu, you’re not–”

“Shut up,” he exclaimed, “you already told me that a million times.”

His tone brought Oliver to fear in his tangent. Had he ever heard the boy tell him something like that?

“I’m an incompetent, dumbass kid,” he said. “I’m that dumbass who killed so many people because I asked without thinking. I was eight sure but can I do anything about it now? No; because I’m too fucking weak to do anything about it despite every step I take and I’m hurting people somehow.”

His words picked up in volume, and his speeds brought his monologue into rambling. The more he spoke, the more he pulled his hair as well. 

“Everybody is suffering because of me and my stupid, selfish wishes. I wanted to be a hero; I wanted to have friends, but I didn’t know what that meant. And I can’t stop it! I have to rely on everybody and sit around with only comics at my side and even that is terrible! I do nothing and I practically am nothing; pretty much nobody knows I exist anymore anyways. And none of this would have happened if I was a bitch and–”

With all of his huffs and drive, he stopped. Gasps for air came his way for his held breath. But soon, his breathing crumbled, along with his voice. 

“Why did I run…?”

All of his venting shook Oliver in his core. The pieces of this conclusion seemed as something that laid right in front of him for ages. Yet, only now did he see them pieced together. And that, processed poorly. “Ayu, what–”

Ayu propped himself up and his feet moved with his mouth. “Fuck this.” 

Oliver’s processing unit somehow slowed from its increasing malfunction. But once Ayu continued walking farther, he himself propped up into a quick run. “Ayu, wait.” He grabbed his hand, grasping it and holding it steady. Denying words could never work again, he figured. So, basic assurance seemed as the only thing of help. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How?!” 

He gulped, “I’m here… and we’ll fix it all together. One step at a time.” Lacing their fingers together, Ayu’s shaking, Oliver brought to him a smile. The same peaceful smile he raised up to his mom for so many years, all to preserve life behind the dread. 

Despite his efforts, Ayu did not turn and eye into it. Instead, he froze with the shaking hand, and clenched his grip. 

“Ayu,” he cried, “that–” but he stopped the rest of the sentence. Another trigger would ruin the moment, so he endured the pressure. 

And afterwards, Ayu chuckled with the smallest sound. “You’re a lot nicer than before. You know that?”

Ignoring the pain, he replied, “I’ve always been nice; it’s just that I think I forgot how to care for a while until you came along.”

“I’m just that much, aren’t I?” He yanked out of the hand-holding, much to Oliver’s lost balance. “We should go back to Alice. It’s been a while hanging out here.”

Regaining balance, Oliver stared at the now calm Ayu in disbelief, as it seemed he copied his own style of emotion recovery and avoidance. Well, not entirely, but similarly in nature. “Uh… Yeah I guess we should.”

As they arrived, Alice stood by the porch table, setting the final touches to what appeared as Oliver’s proper meal of the week. The faint scent already hit his nose as he waited for the satisfying dish. 

With a quick glance, Alice jeered out, “Oliver! How is your progress now?” 

“It’s okay,” he yelled back. “What’s the food today?” 

“An average roast. I didn’t have many ideas in mind today.” 

“Well, it still smells good,” he added. Once he reached to Alice’s spot, he took over the seat. 

“Wait a moment, Oliver, I still need to fetch a utensil.” However, right as she began entering back into the cottage, her eyes glanced at an Ayu standing by the side. “Oh, you can sit along with him. I prepared a meal for you too.”

“You did?” 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I knew of Eilwen calling you over for something so I figured you should have something else for the occasion.” 

“Huh,” he said. Hopping from the steps to the porch floor, he replied, “Thank you,” as he sat by Oliver, ready for their first time dining together. 

***

“Alice, why are you taking us inside?” 

“Because,” she led them inside her cottage and the surprisingly various rooms inside. “It’s been some time since you asked me for that gift you mentioned, and I’ve finally gotten what I needed to give it to you.” 

One final turn interrupted Oliver. “Wait, do you mean– oh, my God!” He ran towards the present in astonishment around his face. 

Ayu watched in confusion. What Oliver gushed over in awe appeared to be a piano, but one of old browns and rust. He figured the boy would never be impressed by the quality. Though, the rustic nature had an appeal. 

“Alice, how did you find this?” He squeaked at the press of an out-of-tune key. “This is an antique!” 

He studied the features of the metals and the wood cuts around it all as Alice spoke. “Well, I went and talked to Akeldama about you wanting the instrument, and he happened to have a lot lying around according to him.”

The name rang a bell for both of them, and they both questioned, “Akeldama had this?” 

“Why, yes. He has many items in his pocket dimension.” 

Ayu asked, “And what’s that?” 

“His storage space.”

Oliver cracked up at the fact, but Ayu stood baffled at the idea of Akeldama giving such a gift to Oliver. 

In playfulness, Oliver played a few chords to test. “I wonder how old this is from the lack of tuning… Did Akeldama not care?” 

“He may have not been interested in this one specifically, but it may have been the best he had. And if it needs adjustments, he may still know a thing or two.” 

The offer seemed promising, but Oliver shrugged it off. “Nah, I think this is fine. It fits the old-ness in a way.”

The chords built themselves off more and more, but they all played choppily. And after a few more notes he knew from his own signature instrument, his mind paused. … I don’t know how to play this thing. Through a simple yet rushed transition, he set aside his playing. “I’ll need some practice but honestly, this is great,” he laughed. “Hey Ayu, why don’t you try a little?”

Ayu, staring by the side, whipped his mind awake and asked, “What?”

“Come on a play,” he repeated. 

“Why would I play it? It’s yours…” 

He beamed at him. “Because, it sounds funny. Plus, it’d be nice for you to just try it out since I don’t know much either.”

That smile intimidated Ayu somehow, enough to give in. And he sat beside him on the piano seat. Once some moments of silence set in, he knew Oliver would not guide him yet. Thus, he prodded his fingers onto the keys, one by one, pressing at random. No melody formed, nor did a tempo, or a key, or anything of substance. This went on for multiple seconds to a few minutes. 

The stiffness bothered Oliver to no end, in reality, as his patience stabbed him in the gut for letting Ayu play in such a way. However, an alternative was found to save himself from such experimentation. “Here, let’s teach you a chord.” 

He guided one of Ayu’s hands to the beginning of an octave, and slowly adjusted his fingers to the right keys. Once they aligned correctly, he gently pressed for him to play. 

“That’s what should be a C major chord.” He patted Ayu in the achievement. “And I think you can make up your own now, can you?” 

For a moment, Ayu glared at the keys, carefully placing his fingers over new ones and pressing. 

“Interesting… That’s a suspended chord.”

“You know I won’t remember anything you’re telling me, right,” he asked deadpanned.

Oh no, the attitude is back. “Probably.”

“Oh,” Alice said while in the background. “Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“I assume you’re about to leave, correct?”

Oliver nodded while playing with Ayu. 

“There’s something else I’ve been saving for when you do leave,” she said.

Curious, Oliver turned and stood from his seat towards her. “What is it?” 

Opening her book, she summoned a flat-looking bag in front of them. “When I asked for the piano, Akeldama said to also give you this along with it.” 

She handed it off to him, and both him and Ayu looked at the small bag in confusion whilst the inside felt hollow. “Why’d he give me this?”

She shook her head, “I do not know, but you may open it.”

From the bag, Ayu gathered next to Oliver as well. The strangeness of the gift increased most definitely for both of them, but what was inside still mystified the air. 

Reluctantly, Oliver opened the bag to find the hollow item, and even then, was there more confusion. 

***

Huh, Oliver stared at the gift after his research in his room. From its sheen wood surface that plated itself with small metal keys, it was a confirmed kalimba, or thumb piano as the internet sometimes called it.

Such a strange item, he studied. Its keys played gently of that of a music box for a lullaby, which it technically could be accounted for both literally and purposefully. Sure, it was mix-matched, and the pretty keys were jagged from age, but the sound made up for it all. Melodies formed easily and gracefully even if played choppy from his infers. Honestly, it seemed of some use for his style of music and covers. 

While studying he joked, “Ayu, you can probably master this thing, its super simple.”

But Ayu’s reply was nothing. 

Despite the silence, Oliver continued. So, Akeldama first gives me a switchblade and now a nice, aesthetic instrument? We need to look more into him nowadays. – 

“Hey, Ollie,” Ayu called out from the bedside.

“What is it?”

“Come over here.”

A lopsided look was given to him, but light only illuminated in Oliver’s corner of the room, so Ayu’s expression hid in the darkness. Regardless, Oliver stepped onto the bed by Ayu’s side and asked, “What’s up?” 

And only in the matter of seconds did Ayu tackle him again, only onto the bed and in a shaking hug. He grasped and clung to Oliver as tight as ever, yet the grip was weak and shivering. 

Soon whilst lying down, a sniffle covered the room’s sound, then another, until cries rang onto Oliver’s ears. 

“I,” Ayu trembled in his words, “I’m sorry… I can’t do anything.” 

He continued crying into Oliver’s chest, rubbing his tears all over his sweater. Oliver looked down upon what was occurring, but instead of any surprise or panic, he knew something would arise from that conversation. More than he initially expected. 

He hugged back, cradling the boy’s head in his arms and brushing the tuffs of his hair. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, “I’m here for you, remember?” 

With every comb, his hands faintly touched Ayu’s shaking body. He gasped for the air out of his cries and wailed in choking up. 

“Here, let’s…” Oliver glanced over from their position, in which they were stuck in the middle of the bed, and all of Ayu’s weight hefted onto him. “Let’s get a little bit more comfortable…”

He moved them into the pillows and under the blankets, where Ayu still hung on Oliver under his head.  

“Ayu,” Oliver began, “you’re a good person. I know that for sure.” 

He remained silent, much to Oliver’s incline. 

“You’re probably the best person I’ve ever met. A best friend if you will. We’re best friends, right?” 

He felt a nod underneath him. 

Oliver smiled. “I’m glad… Out of anyone, I think I was the selfish brat at first, but then I met you, as dumb as the introductions were,” He chuckled at his speech. “You changed my life, and helped me realize that I wasn’t going to be alone forever and…” Even he began to choke up at his words. 

“And what,” Ayu croaked. 

“You aren’t going to leave me.” Despite the emotions, Oliver set it aside from Ayu’s turn. “That was my fear, I guess. But you disproved that and you haven’t left me alone since; and, you’re wonderful to be around.”

Only those sniffles were left to handle. 

“You’re more…” Damn, compliments are trickier like this. “You have this stubborn bravery to you that I like. And your simple thinking’s actually calming for me since I overthink half the time… Simple’s the best way to put it; you answer everything as you see it and I think it works for a duo like you and me. Despite everything you’ve been through, you still want to stand with your goals since you know that’s right… That’s what I love about you; you have hope. You had enough hope to give me a chance, to tell me that everything will be better just like I’m telling you right now. I would’ve given up, Ayu, so long ago, and right now I’m stopping you from going down the path I could’ve gone to.”

He hugged Ayu back as tight as he did. 

“I’m sorry if I ever said or did anything to hurt you. I didn’t know what I was saying. You’ve gone through just as much as I have… That’s something else I realized.”

With his words, Ayu kept silent. But finally, he said, “Thank you.” Then asked, “… Can you keep on talking? Just about anything. I want to listen to you.”

He nodded back. “Alright. Anything?” 

“Yeah…” 

Memories of his own request flurried back in Oliver’s mind in his understanding of that need of comfort. “I can talk about how my day was with you, then,” and the words fluttered in Ayu’s ears as he calmed from his stuttered breathing.  

“Oh yeah, there was this thought I had for a while.”

Ayu nuzzled in from the cuddling, still listening to Oliver’s words as it started to dry out from speaking. He listened to his day, his thoughts, his imaginations, ideas, epiphanies, everything that whisked him away somehow. They all expressed mindfulness in each word, and he could not have enough. “What is it?”

“I started thinking about this scenario,” Oliver rasped, “about if the world ended.” 

His own voice drowned in a drowsy state, eyes burning from all the crying and exhaustion. “That doesn’t sound like a nice thought.”

“Obviously not,” he huffed. “But, I was wondering what people would do… and what would I do in that scenario. If the world was dying, and it was only a matter of time for me, or you, or anybody to be next.”

“…And?”

“There wasn’t much I could think of, since it really does depend on how the world ends, but out of all the routes, there’s only one thing I want to do for all of them.”

The nature of the conversation rang dangerous bells for Ayu, yet he continued it with, “What would that be?”

He said, “I would never want to go to sleep.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he explained, “you can die at any point when it’s all over. So, if I’m asleep, I can die in my sleep, and I would never have the chance to goodbye… to anybody.”

His answer spoke to Ayu, and remained as words for him to remember always. However, with his tired mind and recovering state, he replied, “Makes sense… Ollie, can you sing for me?”

He looked down upon him. “Is there a particular reason why?”

“The world’s not ending, so I think I’m ready to sleep right now.”

He chuckled a little, combing his hair once more. “Okay. I’m guessing you want an original.”

“I never heard one so,” Ayu snuggled in with his own smile, “obviously.”

Oliver’s face warmed, but without any embarrassment. “Okay, Ayu.”

And with lyrics for the occasion, he quietly sang a piece from those nights of new beginnings.

“My dearest, 

all the shadows that have followed us have come 

and gone. 

My dearest, 

all the darkest that had weighed me down

is far and long evermore.

My dearest, 

you have come to greet me in a light 

that shines across us every night…

My dearest,

We will roll along again.”

Oliver’s eyes drifted, with his last view being Ayu sleeping by him, his tears gone and his breathing cooled. He smiled as he closed that view, uttering the last words. 

“My dearest, 

We will roll along again.” 

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Two Weeks | Monsters | Sleepover | First Meal