#either him being surprised toddlers have have strong memories or that he forgets things that happened yesterday and is impressed

[vimbry]

every little mention of yotsuba's pre-suburban life teases me like. I would like to know more please

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 35

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1915

building bridges over land and sea

shine a blinding light for you and me

to see, for us to be

“Mia, come on!”

Riza’s cry carried up the stairs to Mia’s bedroom. She’d go up there and hurry the girl along herself but Maes was already strapped into his pram and she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone. Happily, he gurgled and played with his teething toy, oblivious to his mother’s antsy behaviour.

“Mia!”

“Coming,” she cheerily replied, no sense of urgency in her tone or gait whatsoever as she hopped down each stair individually.

“Come on, slowcoach,” Riza rushed, shooing her daughter out the door and passed single suitcase she’d packed for her children. “Aunt Vanessa is waiting on you at the station already and we’re late.”

That fact alone was enough to turn Riza restless. The last-minute change of destination was also grating on her, sparking anxiety in her stomach and worry in her heart.

“Sorry but I couldn’t find Mr. Brown,” she replied, hugging her bear tight to her chest.

“That’s okay, but now we need to walk quickly, all right?”

“Okay, Mummy!”

Marching on ahead, Mia’s rucksack slapped gently against her back as she skipped along the pavement.

Riza extended the handle of their suitcase and started to pull it along behind her as she pushed the pram with one hand. It wasn’t ideal but it would have to be.

Mia and Maes were going to Xing with Vanessa. Mia thought her aunt and grandmother were taking them on holiday, but in reality it was all a ploy to protect them and get them out of Central. Just in case.

Whatever was being planned by the homunculi it was on a grand scale. Roy was fairly certain it would not affect civilians in the slightest, however his counterattack would send Central into disarray in order to throw Bradley off the top. It wouldn’t be safe for them. And if it wasn’t safe for them, it wasn’t for anyone… Any number of things could happen on this ‘Promised Day’ Roy kept talking about, and it just made Riza’s anxiety worse.

She may lose him. He was staging a coup. It could succeed but it could also fail. He’d ran through it with her and from Riza’s end it sounded strong and fool proof but… Any number of things could happen. Riza tried not to think about it, but at the same time she couldn’t help herself.

Vanessa was initially going to take just Mia with her, then a heatwave had been recorded in the desert and it was determined it would be too much for Mia to handle. With the train tracks to Xing being buried underneath sand there was no other option than for them to find somewhere else to go.

Riza didn’t care, so long as Mia out of the way of potential harm. It had broken Riza’s heart to keep Maes at home with her but there was no way she could send her toddler through the desert.

Once everything was settled and it was decided they’d head up north instead, so Mia could see and play in the snow, news came that there had been a border skirmish with Drachma and the country was on high alert because of it.

A third and final plan was made in the last week. It would take both her children to Xing with Chris and the rest of their aunts. It was announced the tracks had been cleared and the trains were running smoothly, so, after essentially experiencing whiplash of emotions and changing plans, Riza wanted them on a train and heading out as soon as possible.

It was all for their safety, she reassured herself, but it still hurt at the thought of saying goodbye.

“Be good for Grandma and Aunt Vanessa, okay?”

Patting down Mia’s jacket, Riza smoothed her hands over it, ironing out invisible kinks while Vanessa looked on with sympathy.

“I will Mum!” Mia’s beaming smile was committed to Riza’s memory.

Her eyes lit up suddenly as her attention was diverted and drawn elsewhere, over her mother’s shoulder. Riza lifted an eyebrow at Mia’s sudden elation.

“Dad!” Mia almost screamed.

He was jogging up to the platform and looking like he’d run all the way from Central Command.

“I made it,” he panted, pressing a hand to his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Mia ran around her mother, leaping into his waiting arms. Roy’s smile was broad as he spun her in place over his head, laughing with joy.

“You too, baby Maes.”

Riza pulled the toy away from his face to get a better look at it. His frown was committed to memory as well, a choked laugh leaving her. Every time someone tried to stop him playing with a toy, that little frown appeared. Aside from that, he was the happiest baby in the world. He barely cried and was so mellow. He took after his sister that way.

She would miss them both so much.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Riza bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. Maes blinked up at her, breaking out into a massive grin. His arms reached out, asking excitedly to be picked up, and it almost caused Riza’s heart to break.

“I can’t just now, Maes,” she explained quietly. She quickly cleared her throat. “You’re going on holiday with Aunt Vanessa –”

“Riza, please,” Vanessa begged, interrupting her. She had tears in her eyes. “Pick him up and give him a cuddle.”

Nodding, Riza took a deep breath and unstrapped her son. He giggled and closed his eyes, burrowing his face happily into the crook of her neck. A tear did threaten to drop down Riza’s cheek then. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, she forced herself to hold it together when she heard Roy and Mia’s excited laughter behind her back.

“I love you, Maes. So much. And I can’t wait to see you again.”

Maes pulled away, pressing a hand to Riza’s cheek. It was enough to make her freeze in place while he broke out into another grin and nuzzled his head against her neck one more time.

Riza gave him a squeeze, feeling her knees shake. She locked them tightly, squeezing everything tight to keep herself from breaking down in front of everyone.

She didn’t want to say goodbye to her kids.

Roy’s hand appeared suddenly on her shoulder. He gave it a quick squeeze as his thumb caressed it gently. Riza let out a breath and turned to face him, feeling steadier and calmer with him next to her. She wasn’t alone in all of this.

“My turn,” he announced cheerily, reaching out for Maes. But Riza could hear the strain in his voice.

“Come here, Mia,” Riza smiled, beckoning her daughter forward. “I’ll miss you so much. Be good and look after your little brother for me,” she grinned, forcing out the smile.

“I will!”

“I’ll call you every day after you’ve arrived. Try not to have too much fun that you forget all about your old Mum and Dad,” Riza quipped, pinching Mia’s nose playfully.

“I could never forget you, Mum,” Mia replied fiercely, crushing her mother into a hug.

“Thank you, my Mia Bear. I will never forget you either. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Her hand had clung to the skin at the back of Riza’s neck. She felt the pressure increase, the tips of Mia’s fingers clinging onto her.

“Make sure you have fun, all right?” Riza pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I expect to see lots of pictures when you come back.”

“Oh, and I’ll bring you back a present!”

Riza’s heart melted. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to!”

“Okay, okay,” Riza eased off, raising her hand in surrender. “Well then…” Riza tightened her jacket over her shoulders after her farewell with her father left it off centre. The straps of Mia’s rucksack were adjusted too and Riza patted them once. “I can’t wait to see what you bring back.”

Vanessa wheeled the pram onto the train, Mia following closely behind. Once inside, both parents watched as they walked through the carriage to their designated booth. Mia clambered up onto the bench. With knees resting on the wood, her smile was large as she waved at them both in farewell. She and Roy mirrored her daughter.

Only when the train was out of sight did Riza’s hand lower slowly to hang limp by her side. The same happened to her smile.

“You okay?”

Riza nodded, feeling numb. The distance between them was already leaving her breathless.

“As well as I can be, I suppose.”

Both of Roy’s hands lifted to her shoulders as he stood behind her, watching in the direction the train had sped off in.

“It’s for their own safety.” His voice was low and sombre.

“I know,” she sighed. “That’s what’s most important to me. To us.”

“I can’t help but feel that it’s because of me, though.”

Riza shook her head, finally turning away from the tracks. She gave him a smile, trying to ease the guilt and unease of his face.

“Regardless of your plans, I would want them out of the way for whatever they’re thinking of doing. No,” Riza added with confidence, turning back to look after the train, “this was the best decision we could have made.”

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

She turned further into his embrace, looping her arms loosely around his waist. Head bent; Roy tucked her underneath his chin.

“I miss them already,” she mumbled.

“Me too. It will be so strange not having them around the house. Think of all the sleep we can get!”

Riza snorted a laugh, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “We can catch up on so much.”

“Sounds perfect,” he quipped as he gave her a squeeze. His tone was full of sorrow as he spoke, mirroring Riza’s feelings.

It was anything but perfect. They would both miss them, but they’d get through it. It may have been an excessive plan, but as Roy said to her once, years ago, with her family on the line, she was very paranoid about their safety.

*          *          *

Riza entered their silent home feeling the weight of her children’s absence. Hayate bounded to greet her, and was happy to do so, but he still sniffed around her legs and whined, looking at the door for his best friend.

“They’re away,” Riza explained to him, shrugging out of her jacket.

Like he was with Mia, Hayate was very protective of Maes. When sitting together in the evening Hayate would sit in front of whoever was holding Maes. It was as if he was guarding their youngest, taking the occasional sniff before settling. When Mia called he was happy to answer but not without one last glance and a quiet whine in Maes’ direction.

He was the best dog in the world, Riza was sure of it. No other dog could or ever would compare to him.

The silence of the house was oppressive, almost closing in on her. Sitting on the couch, finally still and alone with her thoughts, Riza’s shoulders slumped. The feeling of loneliness was the worst thing. It reminded her of a time when she was in her father’s home, working hard and keeping to herself. When she was truly alone as a child. Even with just Maes at home, Riza had him to look after. Every so often a disgruntled noise would leave him as he played with his feet on his playmat or he’d let out a tiny sigh. Riza listened out for those moments the most, feeling pure and unadulterated joy every time she heard it. Now, there was nothing. Longing crept into her heart, wrapping around it almost painfully.

She missed her children terribly and it had only been an hour or so.

Hayate padded over. He’d been hanging around the door, waiting to see if anyone else would walk through it, and Riza had left him to it. She knew no amount of coaxing would tear him away as he waited.

Hayate’s head cocked after he sat down at Riza’s feet, staring up at her. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and he smiled widely up at her, panting happily.

Riza’s smile never made it to her eyes, but she did try.

Hayate noticed. His tongue disappeared and he whined quietly. A wet tongue licked at the fingers resting upon her knee.

“Hey, boy,” Riza murmured.

He was scratched behind his ear with Riza running her hand vigorously over his head.

“Looks like it’s just me and you, for now.”

Hayate cocked his head once more before lifting his paws up onto her knees, smiling widely at her. Riza had no choice but to lean forward and hug him tightly.

“You’re the best dog,” she whispered into his fur, pressing a kiss against it.

The radio was switched on to a random channel in an effort to fill the silence. Hayate trotted around the house after her like a shadow, not leaving her side once.

*          *          *

“Hello, Riza,” Chris greeted through the phone. “Did the kids get away all right this morning?”

“They did, yes.” Pain gripped her heart at the reminder of their goodbye.

“I just wanted to call and check in on you.”

“Me?” That surprised her.

“Yeah. It especially couldn’t have been easy to say goodbye to the little one so soon.”

Under normal circumstances, possible threat aside, Riza agreed.

“So, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Chris continued.

“I’m fine,” Riza reassured. “Missing them, but fine. I don’t know what to do with my time now though. I’ve never had this much free time before.”

Even as a child her hours were filled with looking after the upkeep of her father’s house, repairing things here and there, while also travelling into town to procure enough food to feed three mouths. Any meat was gained by hunting in the forests and all the extra parts of the animal she didn’t need were sold on at the market in town. Anything to bring in some extra income for their family, because God knows her father certainly didn’t. His focus was alchemy only, not on what he would eat or that the house was literally falling apart at the seams. When Roy had come along her workload had cut in half as they used alchemy to patch it up.

“I wish I could keep you busy with some errands, but everything is done.”

A sense of sorrow washed over Riza. Part of Roy’s plan was to blow up Chris’ bar so they could both escape into the sewers. It had become like a second home to Riza and she would be sad to see it go. It held a familiarity to it, somewhere she could go in her hour of need and somewhere she’d found nothing but love and acceptance.

“I understand. Don’t worry about me,” Riza reassured, “I’ll find something. When are you making a trip of your own?”

“Soon.”

Chris was travelling by train to Xing on the eve of the Promised Day.

“It’s long overdue,” she added, “I need a holiday.”

“The kids will be happy to see you. Mia couldn’t wait for you to arrive.”

Chris paused on the other side of the line. Riza heard her soft exhale. “Want me to pass anything on?”

Riza wished there were something more she could send to her children through their grandmother, but there was nothing. “Just tell them I love them. And I miss them.”

“I will, Riza. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll take good care of them. I expect great things from Roy, but I won’t forget your part in it all either,” she added. “Keep him right for me.”

“I will,” Riza promised.

“You ground him. I can see that clearly. I don’t think you’ll have any problem with it but this whole Hughes situation…”

Riza’s chest tightened at the memory of the last time it was brought up.

“He’s an emotional kid. Smart as hell and can pluck a sound strategy out of thin air but when it comes to those he loves, he’s emotional.”

“I know.”

Chris scoffed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You obviously already know.”

She was worried about him. It was plain as day. Although quite sharp with Roy and not the most maternal person in the world, she cared deeply for her son and loved him a lot.

“I’ll look after him, Chris. I promise.” Riza masked the sound of her knowing tone behind her vow.

There was a beat of silence before Chris spoke. “Thanks, Riza.”

*          *          *

“It’s far too quiet without them,” Roy muttered, chewing his food thoughtfully as he stared down at the tablecloth.

Like her, he was missing the usual hustle and bustle of their dinner table. Mia would be chatting animatedly about anything she could think of, filling the room with laughter and noise. Riza would sit feeding Maes with a bottle while her food kept warm in the oven. Roy would eat, his replies overexaggerated and excited as he encouraged Mia to share everything about her day. Once Maes was fed, Riza would pass their son over to Roy once he’d finished eating, and he’d entertain him while Riza ate her own dinner.

“How do you think I feel all day?” Riza smirked at him, spooning more gravy onto her plate.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Well, at least Hayate is still here.” Peering around the table, Roy looked over at their dog who was eating his own dinner off to the side. “So that’s something.”

“Very true. If he weren’t, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably go stir crazy in the silence.”

Roy’s gaze flicked back over to look at her. “Does it remind you of… being at home with your father?”

“It does,” she replied, picking up her knife and fork. “It’s a weird feeling,” she frowned.

“Does it bother you?”

She thought over his question. “It did a little at first,” she admitted. “I feel guilty sometimes though for saying I enjoy the quiet,” she snorted softly. “I can hear myself think. But…”

Riza sighed. Her hands stilled and the eating utensils came to rest on her plate.

“It did bother me. It was too quiet and too lonely. But then I remember how far we’ve come.” Her hands started to move, cutting into her steak. “And I remember that we’re fighting for their future. It’s worth going through this now for that and for them.”

Roy nodded, head bobbing as he stared thoughtfully at his food in silence.

The mood of their house was a quiet but solemn one that night. The Promised Day was tomorrow, setting Riza on edge. Roy was leaving late that evening to head to Chris’ to begin to slowly set his plan into motion. Thoughts of doom and gloom has surrounded her all week but Riza banished them that night.

Roy had been stressed out of his mind in the evenings, finalising plans and coordinating his attack. He’d silently and obsessively poured over maps and notes in his office, so Riza had entered quietly and rubbed at his tense shoulders without a word. She wasn’t there to disturb and interrupt, just there to try and offer some comfort and relaxation.

He’d always told her he grounded her, so she’d tried her best to do just that. She was the calm before the storm for him, cool and collected, while she hid her inner turmoil deep within her. He didn’t need her hovering over him, worrying about his mental state despite it being a real concern for her after that week.

Although, his hands had pulled at her shirt most nights, tugging it from the waistband of her skirt. Hands ran up her sides feverishly, gripping tightly and running over her skin smoothly. They’d fallen into bed together more than once, both desperate for a connection to one another. He’d assured her he’d be all right as they cuddled in bed at night, pressing a placating and loving kiss into her hair. It didn’t soothe her anxiety and fears, but she still appreciated and loved him for his effort.

Riza carried the dishes from their dinner through to the kitchen while Roy wiped down the table. Once in they were in the sink his hands tugged at her hips gently, but hard enough for Riza to take a tiny step back to steady herself.

“Roy,” she scolded lightly with a laugh as she reached for the hot water tap.

His hand retrained her, and he threaded his fingers through hers, guiding it away from her chore to rest above his heart. Turning to face him Riza saw a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She was twirled in front of him, like they were dancing, before he tugged her tightly into her chest.

“We need to clean up –”

Roy shook his head. “We don’t. Not tonight.”

“But it will –”

“Please,” he whispered, begging her.

The hidden and silent storm of emotions in his eyes was enough to make Riza begin to understand. He wanted her tonight, for as long as possible. If tonight was their last of peace then he wanted to spend it with her. He didn’t want to do boring things like chores of pour over his plans one final time.

“What do you need?”

Riza surrendered to him, allowing his footwork to move her slowly to the centre of the room.

“You.”

The reply, spoken so simply and easily, broke down her defence and she succumbed to her husband’s love and desire to hold her tightly.

A hand was placed on her back securely, pulling her body closer to his. Angling her head, Riza rested it on Roy’s shoulder. His chin bumped the top of her head gently, finding its resting place there. A satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, the sound loud underneath Riza’s ear, while his hand pulled hers back atop his heart. Underneath their joined hands, Riza felt the steady thump of it. A warmth she couldn’t explain washed over her entire body. Here, like this, she felt at home. A part of her was still missing – her children – but it felt a little more bearable to deal with in Roy’s arms. Listening to his blood pump through his veins calmed her, a reminder that she wasn’t alone.

The two of them slowly swayed together to the faint sound of the radio in their living room, finding some semblance of peace before it would be shattered with the coming dawn.

They moved for what felt like hours, simply existing together. There was no one to interrupt, no one to drag their attention away. This moment was bittersweet, reminding her of the night before he left for Ishval. Déjà vu flooded her, making her eyes close as she fought through the painful memories that had been the toughest few months of her life. However, without that pain she’d experienced, she wouldn’t be here today. Riza wouldn’t have two children she loved unconditionally. It hadn’t been meaningless, that suffering. It had set her on the path she found herself on today, supporting her husband and nurturing her children.

With the lows came the good times. She remembered hearing Mia’s laugh for the first time. The way she’d flashed her gums, her tiny but perfect face squinting up at her mother happily. Watching Roy sleepily cradling Maes, trying to get him to fall back asleep during the night. Meeting Roy’s team for the first time, welcoming those people into her life and forming such a strong bond that they felt like uncles to her children. Laughing and joking with Rebecca throughout the years, and welcoming a new friend, Sheska, into her life.

Riza wouldn’t have traded it for the world. No matter how tough some aspects had been.

Retiring to bed, they remained together. Riza’s hands were relentless, grasping at Roy’s skin as she tried to be closer to him in every way. His sweat drenched hair tickled the skin of her face, his lips buried into the crook of her neck. Kisses were littered across her skin, feather light but placed with so much tenderness and care it made her whimper. She returned the favour, worshipping her husband’s body in the way he did hers.

The hour was late when Riza was disturbed from her bliss. The mattress dipped behind her, tugging her from sleep. Immediately her eyes opened, and her head turned to see Roy sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping it tightly.

Riza sat up, feeling cold air wash over her skin with the late-night chill.

“It’s time for you to go?”

Roy’s shoulders tensed, bunching up at his ears as his chin tucked into his chest in defeat. “Yes.”

He sounded hollow, defeated already. The weight of all he had to do carried in his voice, settling on Riza’s heart and making it ache.

Scooting over and wrapping the sheet around her exposed body, Riza’s hand lifted to rest on Roy’s spine, in between his shoulder blades. The instantaneous reaction was for his shoulders to loosen and peel down from his ears. His chin lifted, looking out at the darkened room before him.

“Be safe,” she whispered as her thumb caressed the muscles of his spine. “And come back home to me.”

Slowly, Roy turned, bringing his gaze to hesitantly meet hers. They had no idea how this would all go but she would always think of the best for him. She wanted him to succeed, to take the biggest step he’d taken so far in his fight to give Amestris back to the people. Riza had so much faith and trust in him and his abilities. She often thought that if anyone could do all of this, Roy could. With such a far-reaching vision he was the best man for the job, and she’d support him to the top.

Their foreheads touched gently, taking a quiet moment together in the silence of the dawn.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you, Riza,” he whispered. “You drive me every day and gave me two wonderful children.” His expression was so open and vulnerable after pulling away. “I will always return to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” she smirked, pushing past the pain constricting her chest.

His lips found hers, pressing hard in their desperation.

“Go and save the world, Roy Mustang,” she breathed.

Their breaths mingled together and sparked up a heat she desperately wanted to give into but couldn’t. He had to go.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Riza Mustang.” He smirked playfully, despite the desire in his eyes to climb right back into bed with her. “So much. I’ll see you soon.”

His words were spoken like a vow and his eyes made direct contact with hers as he tried to convey just how much he meant that statement.

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-Nine | Along the River ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Sachiko ] [ Verse: River Runs Deep ] [ Blood, death ]

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He was barely a toddler when the raids came through. When houses burned, blood ran, and lives were lost. Among the fallen were his mother and father, leaving him only with his grandmother to raise him in her little house along a creek. Memories of that night were fogged, blurred...and only faded as he grew older.

By the time he is six years old, they are all but gone, knowing only his grandmother’s house and her love.

Little boys, however, are mischievous little things. And Obito is no exception. Inquisitive and daring, he often wanders around the woods behind the house, sitting at the very edge of the village. Animals and spirits alike scurry from his sight, sticks held like swords as he battles imaginary foes. And other times, he jumps around in the creek, catching frogs and salamanders, and sometimes even little fish!

But that’s not all that lurks in the water.

Sitting on a rather large rock along the bank one afternoon, he catches his breath, having just finished chasing a bullfrog. His bare feet are all muddy, the hems of his pants wet. Sachiko will surely scold him, but...he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have. He had a frog to catch! Dazedly watching the sunlight warp and wiggle along the surface as it tumbles over some stones, Obito then slowly sits up straight.

...is...is that…?

Blinking large eyes, he stares at a gap in the rocks. It almost looks like there’s a face there...looking back at him from the water.

“...hullo…?”

Rippling with the flow of the water, the face...blinks!

It is a face…!

Forgetting his manners for a moment, Obito goes plunging back into the water to get a closer look. And as he does, the being’s eyes go wide...and it disappears.

“...huh?” Looking around, he searches for...whatever that was. “...hey! Come back!”

Behind him, unseen, the face peers around his previous perch, watching him silently as he goes rummaging around in the little rapids.

“Come back! I just wanna see ya! Where’d you go…?” He peers into crevices in the stones. All that looks back is a crawfish, clicking its pincers menacingly. “Aww…”

“...what do you want?”

“Yah!” Startled, Obito scurries forward, spinning around and bracing for a blow. But all he sees is the little face behind the rock. “...who are you?”

“I asked you first!”

He stares. This kid - girl? - has hair as white as snow. It curls about her ears like the white foam that gathers around the rocks. And the large, mirror-like silver eyes in her face are like a snake’s, pupils long and thin. Her ears are pointed, and the beginnings of moonstone horns - little more than nubbins at present - peek out from her temples. “I, uh...I thought I saw a person in the water! Was that you…?”

She nods. “Mhm. This is my river!”

At that, Obito frowns. “...river…? It’s barely even a creek!”

The girl’s cheeks puff in a pout. “That’s because I’m still little! See?” Out she comes from hiding, revealing she looks no bigger than himself, maybe even a little smaller. “I’m young for a river! But I’ll grow!” A finger points north. “My mother is over there...I branched off from her banks. Someday I’ll be just as big and strong as she is!”

“...uh…” Obito’s a little skeptical, but who is he to tell a river spirit what is and what isn’t? “Okay. So are you...a kami…?”

“Mhm! You can call me Ryū,” she offers.

“Do you have a shrine?”

At that, Ryū balks, suddenly pink with embarrassment. “N...no. Not yet…”

“But every kami needs a shrine! Are you really a kami without one?”

“O-of course I am!” she rebukes, stomping a foot and sending a huge splash outward, knocking Obito over to sit in the shallows. “Someday I’ll have a big shrine, and you’ll have to come pray to me for your fish and your water!”

Braced up on his palms, Obito stares up at her. Okay, so...she’s stronger than she looks. “O-okay! I...I didn’t mean t’make you mad. M’sorry. I’ve...never met a kami before. Just the little ones that run around in the bushes! Bāchan’s got a whole bunch of little houses for them in the garden!”

At that, Ryū perks up. “...she does?”

“Yeah! I leave ‘em candy sometimes.” Grimacing, he hauls himself to his feet, dripping. “Ehhh…” It’s gonna take forever for him to dry off!

Studying him for a moment, Ryū then claps her hands. At her beckoning, a whirlwind dances over the top of the water! With a few turns, it whips all of the water out of Obito’s clothes, his hair left standing on end.

Seeing as much, Ryū breaks out into giggles caught in her hands.

“...what?”

“N-nothing! But...you’re dry now!” Suddenly looking coy, she smiles behind her palms. “...I didn’t mean to knock you over.” Barefoot, she walks atop the water to where he stands, offering a hand.

Nervously, Obito takes it.

“Step up!”

“...huh?”

“Just do it!”

Looking unsure, he does as asked. And like a solid step, his foot rests atop the water. “...eh?!”

“Other foot, now!”

Gawking, Obito takes another step. He’s...he’s standing on the creek!

...river.

“Is...is this magic?”

“Mhm!” With a tug, she takes him back across, letting Obito step off onto dry land and ridding him of the last of the water. “There!”

“Er...thanks.”

“Be more careful next time you go splashing around for frogs, huh? You never know what might be in the water,” Ryū teases.

It’s Obito’s turn to pout. But he doesn’t really have a retort, either. “Okay, okay…”

With that, Ryū gently ushers him back toward the house where Sachiko begins calling him for lunch.

When Obito turns around, she’s already gone.

...that did really just happen...right?

At least he’s not wet and muddy anymore.

“There you are!” his grandmother greets as he steps back up into the house. “Catch any fish?”

“Nah...tried to get a bullfrog, but it got away.”

Sachiko chuckles, ruffling his wind-puffed hair. “Well, someday you’ll catch some. Then we’ll have fresh lunch, hm?”

“Hey, bāchan?”

“Yes, dear?”

“You believe in kami, right?”

“But of course!” The old woman points to the kamidana that looks out toward the entrance with a gnarled finger. “I still put out offerings for our house spirit. And whatever I can for the little ones in the garden.”

“There’s one in the creek, behind the house!”

At that, Sachiko’s eyes widen. “A river spirit…?”

“Yeah! She’s little, though. Like me!”

“I see…! Well, we’ll have to make her feel welcome, won’t we?”

“Mhm!”

With a little blade, Obito takes some branches from the forest, and begins to whittle in his spare time. More than once, he nicks his fingertips, having to stop and stuck on them to stop the bleeding. With little nails his grandmother gives him, he carefully starts constructing his very best attempt at a tiny little shrine. While he knows it’s nowhere near a proper one...well, they all have to start somewhere.

When it’s finished, he goes about settling it in the proper spot. Carefully wedging it protectively in a nest of stones, he stands back to let Ryū come up and take a closer look.

“...what is this…?”

“It’s a shrine!” He braces proud hands on his hips, looking smug. “I made it all by myself! With bāchan’s help.”

She just...stares at it.

...and Obito starts to get nervous.

“Do...you like it…?”

After a pause, she turns to him, chin trembling and eyes teary.

Obito stiffens. “Wh-? What’s wrong? Is it -?”

“It’s perfect!” she cuts in, leaping forward and latching onto him tightly, forcing him to spin slightly at her force to avoid falling over. Around them, a joyous wind eddies and ripples the water in an arc. Face hiding in her neck, she quietly mumbles, “...thank you.”

Above her, Obito’s cheeks tinge pink. “...y-you’re welcome.”

Every morning, he and Sachiko dutifully come out and leave an offering. To Obito’s surprise, Ryū never shows herself when the old woman is around. It’s only in front of the boy she emerges from the water, always miraculously dry.

“How come bāchan doesn’t get to see you?”

Sitting on one of the rocks by her shrine, Ryū hums. “...well...sometimes seeing a kami can be a bit, um...much for people. And I don’t want to frighten her.”

“You wouldn’t scare her!”

“...no,” Ryū agrees, still frowning. “...but it can still startle them. And it’s not good to startle old humans. It can make their heart go too fast. For you it’s okay, because your heart is young and your mind is open. Sachiko-bā’s mind is open, but...I’m afraid her heart might not do well, ne? So I want to be safe. Humans don’t live as long as we kami do.”

That makes Obito stiffen. In truth...he hasn’t ever given his grandmother’s mortality any thought. To him, she’s a constant. She’s always been here, so...surely she always will be!

...right?

“...but…?”

Seeing the conflict in the boy’s face, Ryū gently sighs. “...we river spirits can help with healing - water is the element of it, after all. I’ll do my best to help keep your grandmother healthy for as long as I can! But, Obito...all things have to pass eventually. It’s part of life, ne…?”

Frowning heavily, he wants to argue...but despite his young age, he also knows she’s right. He sits beside her, looking somber. “...yeah…”

She carefully leans against him. “Just make sure she drinks water from my river every day, ne? I’ll do all I can.”

“...thanks.”

Time, however, stops for no man and no kami. Seasons blend together, rising and falling as years begin to pass. Obito gets a little older, and a little older. Sachiko, however, hardly seems to change: sitting on the rear engawa and slowly fanning herself, looking over the water with a Buddha smile.

And it’s not just Obito that grows. With every passing wet season, the creek behind the house grows a little deeper, a little wider. Reeds grow along the banks, which Sachiko teaches Obito to weave into baskets to hold their food. Fish begin to swim in the currents, Obito spearing them for food whenever the weather is good, as well as finding freshwater clams and crawfish. And every evening, little glowing mushi float over the water, their light reflecting along the surface.

They, however, aren’t the only kami that start gathering by the river.

A kappa spoon shows up. Lurking in the waters, she watches the humans with her amber eyes. And every so often, an okuri inu wanders from his guarded path to drink from the banks.

Ryū welcomes them all. Like her waters, her physical form also matures. Taller, her silver-threaded white kimono grows with her, the patterns shifting and changing depending on her thoughts or mood. Her hair is longer, falling nearly to her tailbone: a mess of waves like her rapids. And the horns at her temple have grown, with several branches that curl out behind her head.

A few years later, Obito makes a second attempt at her shrine. This one is bigger, more refined, and set atop a stone slab he hauls in along the riverbank. Ryū still keeps the first one, nestled among other treasures beneath the water.

Even other villagers begin to make offerings. Sake and plum wine are poured into her currents with every harvest. She brings rains in the Spring, and cool winds in the Summer.

Life is peaceful.

...but peace rarely lasts.

At the elders’ requests, the boys begin to learn how to fight. Obito trains with blades and armor, often practicing his forms behind the house.

With doleful eyes, Ryū watches.

She still remembers how her mother’s waters would run red with blood when war swept over the land.

And like the turning of seasons, war once again falls upon them. The boys wait anxiously for the day it finds their village.

That is all they are: boys.

Children.

As Summer wanes, the fighting finds them. Samurai on horseback, intent on conquest, ride through and alight thatch roofs. Men who dare lift blades to them are cut down. Blood pools in the mud of the streets.

It all seems so hopeless.

“No...no!”

With every ounce of effort she can muster, Sachiko makes her way to the banks. In her arms, slack and unconscious, is Obito. Blood runs down his face...and horrible burns pucker his flesh.

“O-kami-sama...please! Don’t take my boy...don’t take what I have left! Please...please spare him…!” Stepping into the water, she brings his body with her. “Save him, I beg of you…!”

Emerging from the water, Ryū’s face is tightened with emotion. Water drips from her form, kimono heavy. “Obito…!”

“O-kami-sama…” Sachiko reaches a trembling hand, which Ryū gently takes. “Please…!”

Looking near tears, Ryū then turns to her friend. Carefully, she urges him further into the current, palms at his cheeks as he floats along the surface. A wind begins to eddy around them, the god’s eyes closed as she concentrates.

Around her, the water begins to shimmer, taking on an emerald hue. As it washes over the boy in her arms, his wounds begin to close, scarred and pink.

His eyes open, looking foggily up to her face. “...Ryū…?”

“Shh...you’re safe now…” Glancing aside, she motions to the kappa. “Hold him here.”

“Where are you going?”

Her silvers turn to steel. “...to finish this.”

Face slack, the kappa doesn’t argue, watching as the god approaches the bank.

Water brings life, washes wounds, and nurtures fields.

But so too can it drown.

Within moments, tumultuous storm clouds gather over the village, dark and rumbling. Lightning strikes, winds whipping. Torrents of rain begin to fall, dousing the flames. And as Ryū walks the street, forks of lightning find marks in the samurai’s iron armor. The god’s wrath washes over the village, scourging the invaders and leaving the villagers untouched. Screams of terror sound from the samurai, who scramble to retreat.

With a geyser-like hiss, Ryū shifts into her true form: a ribbon of white and silver scales, needle teeth bared in fury as claws dig into the earth beneath her.

“BEGONE!”

...then there is silence, broken only by the rain.

Staring out after the warriors, Ryū watches as the hiding villagers slowly reappear. Mourning cries begin to build for the fallen. Hands reach for the burned and broken buildings.

But those who survived will rebuild.

At each of the wounded, Ryū stops and does what she can. Many are saved. A few are still lost. Only once all are accounted for does the rain begin to ease, the clouds lightening and starting to scatter.

Returning to the river, she carefully brings Obito to the bank. Already the kappa has peeled away what remains of his armor, his body light.

“O-kami-sama…”

Turning her head to Sachiko, Ryū watches the human cry in relief, smiling as tears tumble down her face.

“Thank you...thank you.”

Softening, the god brings her snout to the old woman’s brow, carefully resting the cool scales against her skin.

“Ryū…?”

In a blink, Ryū retakes her human form, knelt and bringing Obito’s head to her lap. “It’s over. And I doubt they will return. Not knowing an angry god watches over this place.”

With a swaying, scar-marked hand, he reaches up to cup her cheek. “You saved me.”

“Of course,” is her soft reply. “You were my first friend...you built me my first shrine. You are forever nestled at the center of my heart, Obito.”

Smiling, he lets his eyes close, exhausting overtaking him.

For weeks, the village licks its wounds. Homes are rebuilt, graves dug, memories shouldered. And along the riverbank, a proper shrine is raised for their patron god. Dragons adorn every surface: painted, carved, and molded.

Standing within it, Ryū quietly takes in its beauty.

“Well...I think this one is better than either of mine.”

Turning, she alights as Obito enters. Still recovering, he leans heavily on a crutch. “They are all beautiful,” is her retort. “It’s not the appearance, but the intent. And yours were always the most heartfelt. So too is this one. But I will always treasure yours the most.”

Head ducking, he goes red.

“How are you wounds…?”

“Fine...I’m just sore. I’ll be all right. I was lucky.”

Her gaze drops at the memory of the fallen. “...it won’t happen again.”

“I know.”

Considering him for a moment, Ryū then crosses the floor to stand before him. “...you know, I wouldn’t be as I am if it weren’t for you.”

“Huh…?”

“You befriended me, and respected me. Believed in me. All kami need to be believed in and remembered, lest we disappear. Without you...perhaps I would have dried up. Faded away. But now...now I’ll flow for generations. And it all began with you.”

Now quite brightly blushing, Obito has no retort.

Allowing a smile, Ryū takes his cheeks in her hands, bowing his head to plant a kiss on his brow. “...thank you, Obito.”

“B-but -? I should be thanking you! You saved me, you -?”

“I did what I had to. What I wanted. It seems...we needed each other.” Her hands lower, taking his spare gently in her grip. “...and so...we will be together. Won’t we…?”

Looking a bit dumbfounded, Obito then softens and shuffles closer. “...yeah. We will.”

     This is depressingly late, but honestly I just...got too burnt out. Things I were trying weren’t working. So I gave up for a few days, let my brain rest. I THINK I can finish, now. One more free day for my choice, then another prompt from Meg, then we’re done! At least it’s not December, yet :’D      But anyway, some kami verse! I am...a huge sucker for this, okay. Japanese mythology is so interesting. I feel like maybe I don’t know enough to write this kind of thing perfectly well, but I try! It’s a bit like Obito’s bakeneko piece, but...reversed! lol      Anyway, gotta get some stuff done, but I’ma try to at least start another one tonight. We’ll see how it goes~ Thanks for reading!

[quicksilversquared]

Fashion Disaster

Hawkmoth's akuma designs aren't always what one would call fashionable. In fact, quite a few of them verge on being complete eyesores. It was only a matter of time before someone brought it up- and when they did, Hawkmoth was Not Happy.

So naturally, they just brought it up again, and again, and again.

(AO3) (FF.net)

Adrien frowned when he entered the dining room for breakfast one morning and saw the newspaper, which normally sat abandoned next to his father's seat, crumpled up and sitting under the window like it had been thrown across the room in a fit of anger. Curious, he trotted over to pick up the paper. He didn't flatten it out right away, because he didn't want Nathalie to spot him looking at it. If his father had thrown away the newspaper, there was probably something in it that they didn't want him to see.

He would read it at school.

Adrien managed to smuggle the paper back to his room without anyone noticing, and then he shoved in his bag before running out to the car. The Gorilla looked a little surprised that Adrien was running so early, but the surprise smoothed out fast enough and he pulled out of the gates. Driving to school took no time at all (Adrien wondered briefly if he could maybe persuade the Gorilla to just walk him to school some days, since it was absolutely ridiculous to drive the short distance unless he was seriously running late), and then Adrien was settling down at his desk in the empty classroom and pulling the crumpled paper out of his bag.

"What did you bring that trash for?" Plagg asked, zipping out of the bag after the newspaper and watching with interest as Adrien smoothed out the paper carefully. "Why is it all scrunched up like that?"

"It's not trash, it's today's newspaper," Adrien replied absently, noting that it was the fashion section that had been trashed. "And I didn't do that, my father did. I just want to know what it was that got him all ticked off."

Adrien started scanning the paper, frowning as he did. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary in any of the articles. Adrien shrugged, figuring that maybe his father had gotten news he didn't like from Nathalie and he had just taken it out on the newspaper.

(He didn't want to think too much about what kind of news his father might have gotten, but after a moment's consideration he figured that it was probably more frustrating news as opposed to bad news. If there was truly bad news,there probably would have been shattered glass and Nathalie would have said something to him.)

Shrugging, Adrien went back to perusing the newspaper. There was an article about the latest akuma, and he started reading it. It was odd that the article was in the fashion section, of all things, and it seemed to be a discussion of the designs of some of the akuma. They tended to be super-tacky, according to the columnist, all clashing colors and ridiculous patterns. They looked like they would be better suited to a toddler's coloring book, the writer continued scathingly, and were an eyesore. Hawkmoth should consider taking a designing class or two.

Adrien sniggered a bit and agreed. Nino's Bubbler design had been particularly awful. Most of the others ranged from eye-wateringly bad to just somewhat tacky. Even his own father's design had been a bit tacky as well, with the ridiculous striped hair, exaggerated lapels, and completely out-of-date bell-bottom pants. He was sure that his father had probably been ready to murder Hawkmoth when he saw the fashion disaster that he had been as an akuma.

"Whatcha reading, dude?" Nino asked, jolting Adrien out of his thoughts as he plopped down on their shared bench. "The fashion section? Don't you get enough of that every day?"

"There's an article on the akumas in here," Adrien said, folding the paper back so Nino could read the article too. "About the outfits."

"It's about time someone pointed out how bad they normally are," Nino commented, looking down at the paper. "I saw a couple pictures of when I was akumatized and oh boy, was that ever bad. Thank god Ladybug and Chat Noir got me out of that ridiculous get-up. At least Alya's wasn't awful. She got lucky."

"She did," Adrien agreed. "It really wasn't that bad. There are some that Hawkmoth didn't go overboard on, and they looked halfway decent." He tucked the newspaper away back in his bag- he'd have to remember to throw it away before he returned home for lunch- and turned back to Nino. "So, I saw Alya's post about Alix winning her and Kim's race. How's Kim taking it?"

  Adrien's lunch break was interrupted once again by the oh-so-familiar sound of the akuma alert going off on his phone. Sighing, he quickly polished off the half of his sandwich that he was holding and then wrapped the other half in a handful of napkins so he could eat it later. He tucked it into his bag and then headed for the door, muttering a quick excuse to Nathalie about needing to go back to school early to work on a research project in the library. She nodded, distracted by the report she was working on, and Adrien took that as his cue to transform and take off.

Hopefully he and Ladybug could take down the akuma fast enough that he would have time to finish his sandwich and get some homework done before classes started up again for the afternoon.

Chat Noir bounded across the city, looking for signs of an akuma. He had just passed the Eiffel Tower when a flash of color caught his eye and he paused, then blinked as the most gaudy akuma ever sped down the street towards him. All of the clashing colors on their outfit hurt his eyes just by themselves, and then on top of that it looked like an entire école maternelle had glued the contents of their entire art cupboard on top of that. Sequins sparked, jewels flashed, beads swung, and glitter shone. The akuma flashed a pencil at people, and soon they were decorated in much the same way. It seemed more irritating than dangerous... though perhaps once enough people were hit, there would be a danger of someone going blind in the face of the sun reflecting off of all of the glitter.

"Wow," Ladybug commented as she landed next to Chat Noir. "That's...uh. Um."

"Gaudy?" Chat Noir suggested, squinting at the akuma. The pencil was the only thing that stuck out as weird, and he bet that it was the possessed item. "Yeah. This is even worse than usual. It's funny timing, actually- did you see that article this morning, in the fashion section?"

"About how awful the akuma designs are? Yeah, I did," Ladybug said. "I'm thinking that Hawkmoth probably wouldn't appreciate people making fun of him like that much, but the writer wasn't wrong."

"D'you think this was his attempt at a better design?" Chat Noir asked as another group of people turned bejeweled. "Only a little kid would think this is better."

Ladybug giggled. "If you want to tell the akuma that to its face so Hawkmoth knows that, go right ahead. Me, I think I'll focus on getting that pencil."

The following fight was the glitteriest fight they had ever had by far. By the time Ladybug snapped the pencil cleanly in two, Chat Noir was covered from head to toe in green glitter and half of Ladybug's hair was covered with a solid crust of glittery red. They both let out a sigh of relief as the Healing Light washed over them and removed every last trace of the glitter. In front of them, the akuma turned back into a fashionably dressed woman.

"Oh! That's the fashion reporter who wrote that article!" Ladybug hissed in Chat Noir's ear. He didn't question how she knew; perhaps she followed fashion more than he did and could recognize the normal fashion writers on sight. Or maybe there had been a writer photo with the article and he just hadn't paid enough attention to remember.

Either way, it was very odd that she would be the one to get targeted, and so soon after the article was published.

"I turned into an akuma?" the woman asked in confusion as she realized where she was. "But... why?"

"Were you upset about something?" Ladybug prompted.

The writer frowned, trying to place the memory. "I'm... not sure? I wasn't that upset about anything. A couple of my design sketches got torn apart by one of my teachers, but I knew full well that I hadn't put enough effort into them. I knew that they deserved every single comment they got. I was more annoyed with myself for half-assing the assignment than anything else."

Chat Noir and Ladybug exchanged a bewildered look. Normally the akuma victims were pretty upset about whatever it was that had set them off. There was strong disappointment, or anger, or whatever. For Hawkmoth to target someone who really wasn't all that bothered at all was strange.

"Well, I gotta get back to the office," the former akuma victim decided, standing up and dusting herself off. "I've actually got an idea for the new sketches that I wanted to get down before I forget it." She paused. "Okay, before I go, I just gotta ask- was my akuma outfit at least decent? Please tell me it wasn't too gaudy."

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged a glance and grimaced. "Weeeeell..."

She groaned. "Oh, gosh. How bad was it?"

"It- it was probably the gaudiest outfit yet," Ladybug admitted with a wince. "Lots of clashing colors, and sequins, and gems and everything. And, well, you'll probably see what your powers were online. The Ladyblogger was out and about and caught everything."

"Oh, geez." The fashion reporter made a face and groaned. "That was probably revenge for me writing that article about the awful akuma designs. He must have been targeting me. Well, if he thinks that I'm going to stop, he's wrong," she added cheerfully. "If he did actually get upset about me criticizing his designs, then I see no reason not to keep annoying him about it. Well, I've got to get back to work. Thanks for saving me!"

And with that, she was gone.

"I can think of a perfectly good reason not to antagonize Hawkmoth," Ladybug managed, looking a little stunned. "Hawkmoth might target her!"

"I'm sure he doesn't think that it's that big of an annoyance," Chat Noir soothed her, patting her shoulder. "At most, he was just a little ticked and now he's gotten it out of his system. He's not going to care that much about it unless he's a fashion designer or something, and there's no way that he is one, not with the akuma designs that he's sent out, right?"

Ladybug nodded. "I'm sure you're right. See you around, Chat Noir!"

  Something banged, and Adrien automatically paused in the foyer, on the alert for whatever was going on. He only hoped that it wasn't another akuma after his father. Another crash made him jump and start in that direction, but the sound of disgruntled muttering gave him pause.

"I'll show them good design," his father was snarling in his office. "Those stupid critics don't know what they're talking about."

Adrien frowned in the direction of the office. There must have been some critics of his father's latest line, though Adrien didn't know what there was to criticize. It was a fairly standard Gabriel line, clean and polished and relatively straightforward. Maybe they thought it was just old and unimaginative, which...

Okay, Adrien could see where maybe critics might get that. He couldn't deny that his father's line this year was fairly similar to his line in the previous year, with just the fabrics being switched around. But other designers tended to do that, too, and it generally flew under the radar. Gabriel Agreste focused on classical designs, and that meant maybe not changing things up from year to year as much as some more contemporary designers.

He hadn't thought that his father normally paid any attention to critics- by and large, he thought they were idiots and blind- but perhaps he had decided to look for some outside feedback for once and hadn't liked what he had found. Part of Adrien wanted to go in and check up on his father, but the other part knew that it wouldn't do any good. His father wouldn't want Adrien to see him like this. He was actually surprised that Nathalie wasn't already guarding the office door, like she had before.

Another crash, another mutter. Adrien cringed and finally pulled himself away, forcing his footsteps to lead him up the stairs and to his room. The sounds were more muffled through the closed door, and almost vanished entirely as Adrien sat down at his desk. He pulled up the Ladyblog to distract himself.

There was nothing like a few amazing pictures of his superhero partner to distract him, after all.

But as soon as the Ladyblog loaded, there was a notice on the top of the page about a Ladybug-related broadcasting going on at the moment and a link to said broadcast. Curious- Ladybug hadn't mentioned anything about another interview to him, after all, so that meant that it was probably something about the superheroes but not involving the superheroes themselves- Adrien clicked on the link. Immediately the familiar stage from the Kidz+ news building popped up on screen, along with Nadia Chamack. She was accompanied by a trio of people, who the banner at the bottom of the screen identified as the journalist who had written the article about the fashion disasters that the akuma outfits were plus two well-known and respected designers.

Adrien probably should have been able to recognize the designers on sight, probably, but he hadn't. Oh well.

"-so before the break, we were discussing your recent article on the akuma outfit designs," Nadia was saying. "And we've also invited a few prominent members of the fashion design community today, here with redesigns of some of our more memorable akumas. We'll see before and after pictures and then they'll explain a bit about why they made the changes that they did."

Adrien watched, interested. The focus was largely on the more recent well-known akumas which meant that there were no redesigns of the Bubbler's outfit. The changes tended to involve a lot of slimming down of parts of the costumes that were particularly ridiculous, toning down on colors, and making some of the costumes look more like actual clothes instead of a second skin. One of the designers had definitely not focused quite as much on the fact that these outfits were to fight in, but Adrien could forgive that given how great the designs themselves were.

Briefly Adrien wondered if maybe being passed over for the interview was what had upset his father, then he dismissed the thought. After all, his father had said something about critics, not about upstart young reporters brushing him off, and besides, his father hated being on TV. It took away his designing time and he hated dealing with reporters who got all up in his face and sprung questions on him that he didn't want to be pressured into answering. Maybe he could have been asked if he would submit a few revised designs, but he wouldn't have wanted to waste his time on that, either. The reporter putting the whole thing together probably knew that full well and hadn't tried asking Mr. Agreste at all.

Whatever had his father upset was something else entirely.

They went through all of the designs and then showed a few designs that design students in a nearby university had done. Apparently one of the featured designers taught there on occasion and had made it an assignment. Some of the designs made Adrien grin, and he absently wondered if Marinette had ever done any akuma redesigns. He'd have to ask her at some point. The idea of redesigning the akuma suits was a cool one, though Adrien would have preferred if some of the students hadn't also come up with additional powers that the akuma could have had. They really didn't need to give Hawkmoth any ideas, after all.

Adrien listened to the program finish up as he pulled out his homework. The fashion reporter stuck in a few more digs at Hawkmoth, and as much as they made Adrien laugh, he had to wonder how soon it would be before the supervillain struck back.

  (Somehow, Hawkmoth managed to find an upset fashion student whose akuma redesign hadn't been used within five minutes of the program ending. Adrien just sighed, suited up, and really hoped that the fashion reporter would quit taunting Hawkmoth soon.)

  A week later, fliers showed up around the city announcing a fund to send Hawkmoth to take a few design classes at the local university. The fliers were well-designed- they were bright, bold, and it was clear that whoever had made them knew what they were doing- but Adrien still wished that he hadn't seen them.

The fashion reporters of the city had apparently bonded together to continue making a joke out of Hawkmoth's akuma design. They seemed to be unruffled by the targeted attacks.

"It's funny!" Alya defended herself when Adrien frowned at her when she took a picture of one of the fliers for the Ladyblog. "Like, Hawkmoth has been terrorizing the city for ages, and there's no real way to affect him. This is hurting his ego, apparently, so of course we're gonna run with it. Have you seen the section in the fashion section now that they're running daily?"

Adrien hadn't.

"It's fashion tips for akumas," Alya explained, grinning. "They do a new one every day. And the funny thing is- Marinette told me this- it's general fashion tips, it's the general fashion tip section, having tips there isn't a new thing- but they've just relabeled it and started over with the basic tips again."

...okay, so that was just a little funny.

"Okay, but they're purposefully riling up a supervillain," Adrien pointed out, hoping that Alya wasn't going to start including something similar on the Ladyblog. Even if people thought that it was funny, it seemed like it was a dangerous game to play. On top of that, Hawkmoth's irritation with the constant fashion comments was showing in the form of more akuma attacks, and he and Ladybug were getting run ragged.

Alya shrugged, unbothered. "Ladybug and Chat Noir always fix everything he breaks during his little attacks anyway. It's not like it's that big of a deal, right?"

Adrien tried not to grit his teeth. "I'm sure Ladybug and Chat Noir mind! They've been dealing with the attacks nonstop since that once reporter decided to tick Hawkmoth off for the first time."

"I know! I've gotten so much footage for the Ladyblog, it's fantastic!" Alya waved her phone at him, grinning. "Did you see that akuma yesterday? Terrible design, especially with those awful red pants, but so cool."

Adrien sighed and hoped against hope that Paris would drop it soon.

Predictably, they didn't. News outlets caught on and started doing little segments after each attack. The Ladyblog mentioned both the newspaper comments and the little news segments, and Adrien overheard Alya considering adding a new section entirely devoted to just those things. Even people who normally didn't care about fashion normally were joining in, apparently sharing in Alya's sentiment that the taunts were a great way to get back at Hawkmoth for the havoc he wrecked on a regular basis.

Only Marinette seemed to agree with Adrien's view that ticking off a supervillain for funsies was a bad idea. She frowned whenever the topic came up. He was pretty certain that he had heard her arguing with Alya about it once, but the conversation had come to a screeching halt as soon as he stepped inside. It seemed that he and Ladybug would just be doomed to deal with all of the akumas that Hawkmoth sent out as revenge for making fun of his designs.

Or at least they would have, had the group of friends not spotted Madam Chamack in the middle of the park one day, mid-report about Hawkmoth and his responses to the criticisms. Madam Chamack was laughing, as though she wasn't perfectly aware that an akuma would surely be targeting her in the next day, and even her cameraman looked amused by whatever she was saying.

"Okay, that's it," Marinette announced, drawing herself up. She deposited her bag in Alya's lap and strode purposefully over to camera. Before Madam Chamack could respond, Marinette snagged her microphone and spoke directly into it.

"Like Madam Chamack said, Hawkmoth seems very bothered by the accusations that his designs are unfashionable or terrible. That's really suspicious- maybe we should start looking at fashion designers as potential suspects, because pretty much anyone else would have just ignored what people were saying!"

With that, Marinette stuck the microphone back in the reporter's limp hands, dusted her own palms off, and stalked back to her friends, looking very pleased with herself the entire time.

"What?" she asked when she saw them staring at her. "I'm right. And maybe he is someone in fashion and that'll freak him out enough that he'll stop akumatizing someone every time he sees a comment about how awfully designed his akumas are."

Adrien could only sigh in exasperation. Why was it that all of his friends seemed to have some sort of death wish?

  Oddly enough, there weren't any akumas for a full week after Marinette's appearance on TV. Once they started up again (at a normal rate this time), Hawkmoth seemed to be avoiding going after the fashion reporters that had been such a popular target before. Either he had magically grown a thicker skin, or Marinette's TV appearance was a little too on the nose and she had scared him off.

Either way, Chat Noir certainly wasn't about to complain.

[fierysafrina]

Together | ASL brothers

Fandom: One Piece Rating: General Genre: Slice of Life | Drama | Comedy Word Count: 1.697 Summary: Ace is happy he has brothers like Sabo and Luffy. Notes: It’s Ace’s birthday today and this one-shot probably makes no sense, but I wanted to write something for the birthday boy.

Three brothers were sitting in their hideout that they built when they were children. Luffy’s legs were crossed over along with Ace’s while Sabo’s feet were hanging over the edge, his arms on the railing. They were quietly watching the sun set at the horizon, the rays of evening warming them for last few minutes. Luffy shuddered from cold and both Ace and Sabo moved closer, to keep their youngest brother warm. He smiled widely, enjoying the company and chuckled as Sabo smiled and Ace grinned.

“Should we make a fire and catch a bear?” Sabo looked at Ace. “It is already night, so I’m sure it would be nice to catch something big for Dadan as well since it’s been a while we’ve been here.”

“It’s really been ages, isn’t it?” Luffy asked instead. “I missed this place!” he claimed and raised his hands in the air.

Ace laughed and messed Luffy’s hair. “Did you pay Makino all that debt you had?” he asked and shook with head when Luffy’s cheeks turned red. And Ace knew he did. He knew Luffy never went back on his word and that was the reason, why he followed him from the shadows, looking after his youngest brother when he needed help.

“I paid when I came.” Luffy answered and turned to Sabo. “Maybe we should try to catch a tiger or crocodile. Crocodile meat is always good.” His mouth watered at the memory of when they were children.

Sabo shook with head. “We’re not catching any crocodile today. You might get eaten.” He laughed when Luffy pouted and crossed his arms like a toddler, who didn’t get his favourite toy. How funny and easy it was sometimes to tease him. Then he looked at Ace, who was staring at the sunset once again, his eyes showing his thoughts were elsewhere than with them. And like it just dawned on him, he remembered what Garp told them once. There was a silent gasp and he tugged Luffy to his side, relieved that Ace was deep in thought.

“Luffy, tomorrow’s Ace’s birthday.” He hissed as quietly as he could and Luffy’s eyes widened at the realization.

“I need Sanji!” He called and jumped on his feet.

Ace looked at him in confusion. “Sanji?” he asked and blinked. “What for?”

“Meat!” Luffy called and before either of them could respond, Luffy jumped over the railing and disappeared into the woods, calling as loudly as he could for his cook.

“What’s with him?” Ace looked at Sabo, who shrugged.

“He just jumped and left…” The blond answered, but smiled, knowing Luffy will come up with something. He wasn’t the same clumsy and clueless kid he was years ago. Perhaps on moments, but there were lesser of them. “Should we go and hunt something down?” he asked and looked back at Ace, who smiled widely.

“The one, who catches biggest animal eats most of it.”

“Now that’s cheating!” Sabo laughed as Ace sprung himself over the railing, his laughter disappearing into the woods below.

Ace groaned and held for his head. He should have known that coming back to Foosha will be anything but nice and sweet. He should have expected there were some that still held a grudge for him all those years back. Blinking with his eyes, he opened them and looked around. It seemed like he was in the woods, somewhere in the woods.

“Ace!”

There were Sabo’s and Luffy’s voice, both voices filled with worry and gladness that he was awake.

“Are you okay? Hurt anywhere?” Sabo was the first, who came into his vision and Ace nodded. Something in Sabo’s eyes was what made Ace anxious for some reason as he seemed big.

“I’m fine—” Ace’s eyes widened at the childish voice he had and he looked at his hands only to see them small. “What the?” he murmured and looked at his legs that were short and clothes that were oddly similar to the ones he was wearing when he was a kid. “I’m a kid!?” he yelled, his voice resonating throughout the woods. “What happened?” he looked at Sabo, like he knew the answers.

“I…I don’t know…” Sabo admitted, his eyebrows narrowing together, wrinkles appearing on his forehead.

“And wait a second!” He claimed, only now realizing it was already a day. “When did I even pass out?!” he asked and looked around, seeing Chopper approaching him with worried look.

“We attacked some strange animal last night after Luffy went to his crew, but we beat it. Though few guys came around and wanted to get at you for years ago and you collapsed like few minutes after we beat them and didn’t wake up anymore. I thought it was another narcolepsy attack, so I left you alone, but when I woke up in the morning, I saw you like…this.” Sabo shortly explained and looked at Chopper. “Is he okay?” he asked.

“Well, Ace does look okay.” Chopper began slowly. “I don’t think we should be worried, though it’s still better to be careful.” He said and looked at Ace. “Do you feel any pain? Or anything…weird?” he asked.

Ace slowly shook with head. “I feel…fine, like last night.” He said and huffed.

Chopper nodded in understanding. “Then it should be no problem.” He turned to Sabo and Luffy. “Since he is a child, it’s best he’s with one of you. Despite being in Goa Kingdom, anyone can prey on a child.”

Ace snorted. “Who even would? They know better than do deal with me.”

Ace was screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran from a bird, which was attacking him after trying to get its eggs. He tried to cover his head only for the bird to start pecking him harder. “Stop it!” Ace yelled and came to a stop before he lit his hand on fire, the bird chirping and flying away when it ended burned. “Get back here!” He called, but it was long gone.

There were chuckles and Ace turned red faced facing Nami and Robin, who stood beside Sabo.

“What are you laughing at?” He yelled.

“Sometimes I forget how cute you were as a kid.” Sabo said and ducked down when fire grazed his coat. “Hey, watch it!” he called and caught Ace in headlock.

“Damn you, Sabo, get off me!” Ace called, trying to get himself free. “Stop using haki! It’s not fair!”

“Aaaw is someone upset?” Sabo teased. “Who’s the big brother now, huh?” he grinned when Ace groaned, knowing that if he moves away he will end up more than just burned. He couldn’t make that possibility come true.

“ACE~!” Luffy’s voice rang throughout the forest before he latched himself at two brothers.

“What the—!” Ace yelped only to be tackled under both Sabo and Luffy, who was laughing like a child. “Luffy, get off me!”

“But Ace~” Luffy whined as he wrapped his arms around both brothers. “There’s something you need to see!” he claimed and jumped on his feet.

“Huh?” Ace blinked and looked at Sabo, who was surprised and slightly confused as well.

Luffy laughed as the three of them now ran down the path from where Luffy came from. Nami and Robin were walking behind at their own pace. It didn’t dawn on Ace until they stood in front of Dadan’s house that he looked at Luffy in complete confusion. He saw Sabo with wide eyes and Ace realized he knew what was going on. In annoyance, he was ready to ask Luffy, but the latter gently pushed him towards doors.

“What?” he asked.

“Go in,” Luffy answered.

Looking at Luffy once again, his lips turned into thin line, not trusting him one bit, but did as he was told. He took careful steps towards doors and opened them. The moment he walked in, a scent of something sweet, mixed with oranges and cinnamon, filled his nose and he blinked, walking where the scent was leading him to. He ended in the room that was filled with mountain bandits and Strawhats, each and every one of them either smiling or grinning from ear to ear.

His expression softened, when he saw a big cake in the middle of it, at the same place where meat was always. His eyes grew wider with each word that he read and felt his eyes burn from sudden tears that welled up.

“Ace,” called Luffy.

He turned to him and saw his smile ever so wide, like that of an innocent child.

“Thank you for being our brother and coming into our life!”

Ace never cried in front of anyone, but this time he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was because he was a child that he ended more emotional or it were Luffy’s words, he wasn’t sure and for the first time he didn’t care either. So many times he tried to be strong for both of them, so they wouldn’t worry and yet here he was, crying for a simple reason as such.

“Even though you’re a kid right now, thank you for being here.” Sabo grinned.

Ace didn’t care if he looked out of character. He was happy that Sabo and Luffy were his brothers and that he got to knew them. He was glad that they were always there for him even when he told them to leave him alone.

“You’re best big brother we could ever ask for.” Luffy laughed as he wrapped his arms around Ace and pulled him tight against his chest. Sabo soon joined them as Dadan, Franky, Usopp and Chopper ended up tearing up with others smiling softly by the side.

After a long time, Ace was happy he was alive once again. And now the only thing he wanted was to be turned back into adult, so he could enjoy like he should. If only he knew how he ended up as a kid, but maybe it was okay that was as well. Either the case, he enjoyed the company of his brothers and people that he knew would be there nonetheless.

“Happy Birthday, Ace!” Both Sabo and Luffy called with grins wide.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

For the sexting prompt: Derek knows Stiles is the best boyfriend ever and knows stress eats at him, and he becomes this anxious broody mess that is impossible to deal with, so when Stiles starts texting about how he'd make him feel better, the stress of finals is all just a blur and he can't focus on anything but think about anything but Stiles voice whispering the texts to him and how he can't mess this up

This stayed pretty PG and has a bunch of fluff but hopefully, you like it! And because it involves Derek taking care of himself, I need to tag @halerogers and @nerdderek (also on ao3!)

Derek was smart.

He had always been, even as a toddler. He had started reading long before other kids and had even managed to achieve his beta shift before any of his other siblings had.

In high school, he had been valedictorian, something his mother had absolutely loved to brag about. His siblings, on the other hand, had constantly teased him about being a nerd.

Now, in college, he was top of his class, well on his way to achieving the highly coveted title of valedictorian. And that would make it beyond easy for him to secure a position at either the high school or the community college back in Beacon Hills.

He was an overachiever by nature, a trait that ran in the Hale family, and while that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, the stress and anxiety it brought with it certainly was. Especially since he turned into a broody, short-tempered mess that was impossible to deal with when he was stressed.

He was constantly worried that he would fail, that if he didn't throw himself wholeheartedly into every little single thing he did, he would screw everything up. That he would somehow let his entire family down by not living up to their expectations for him, that he would be taking their sacrifice for granted.

It was a heavy burden that made him hunch his shoulders and run himself ragged trying to do whatever he possibly could to make his family's memory proud. Even to the point that he could barely focus on anything besides the constant anxiety that had taken root in him.

Finals only added to that stress, the weeks leading up to them full of all nighters and homesickness so severe he found himself curling up in bed wishing he could drive home for a weekend. But he couldn't. He had to study.

He already knew everything that he needed to. He knew every detail of the French Revolution, every single cause of World War I, every invention industrialization had provided the world.

But he was worried that he would forget everything when he sat down to take the test. That every piece of information in his head would simply vanish.

So, there he was at a quarter to midnight on Saturday, perusing through his textbook to make sure he had all of his dates right. June 6, 1944 — D-Day. 1954 — Brown v. Board of Education made segregation based on race illegal. July 20, 1969 — the first moon landing.

He was about to look up another date when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his concentration. Rubbing at his tired eyes, Derek pulled out his phone to find a text message from Stiles.

You in bed?

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes as he typed out a brusque response, I'm not in the mood for sexting, Stiles. I'm studying.

That's what you said four hours ago, Stiles pointed out. He added a frowning emoji at the end of his statement, the simple gesture making him smile. Now close your textbook and do exactly what I tell you to.

Derek dragged a hand over his face, yawning as he finally let himself feel the exhaustion that had been clinging to him all day. Stiles was right, staring down at his textbook, rehearsing dates in his head wasn't going to help him.

Okay, Derek texted back as he stood up from his desk and rolled his shoulders. Six hours hunched over a textbook wasn't good for anyone's back, even a werewolf's.

Draw yourself a warm bath, babe, Stiles instructed, Derek grinning at the thought. He did as Stiles said, flicking off his desk light and padding down the hallway to the bathroom.

The sight of the bathtub made him sigh in relief when he turned on the lights, the soft blue of the ways soothing. He checked his phone again when it buzzed in hand with another message from Stiles came in, this one reading, Use one of those bath bombs I got you. The vanilla brown sugar one.

Derek did as instructed, setting his phone down on the edge of the sink as he sat on the lip of the tub and toyed with the faucet until the water was the perfect temperature. As the tub filled, he rifled around under the sink for the box of bath bombs Stiles had given him as a housewarming present.

He grabbed the brown sugar, vanilla bath bomb, the one that reminded him of fresh baked cookies and crisp fall days. After unwrapping it and turning off the faucet, he dropped the bath bomb into the steaming water, watching as it fizzed up and tinged the water an almost orange hue.

I'm about to get in the tub, Derek informed Stiles, adding a bathtub emoji just for the hell of it. He kicked his boots off as he patiently waited for Stiles to answer.

You go ahead, Der. Put on some music while you're at it, Stiles replied as Derek started tugging his Henley over his head. He was unbuckling his belt when Stiles added, When you're done, put on your comfiest pajamas, climb into bed and get some sleep.

Derek very eloquently responded with a string of heart emojis, using all of them at least twice each. Setting his phone down on the sink after queuing up one of the meditation playlists Boyd had put together for him over the summer, he finished undressing.

He sunk down into the tub with a sigh, leaning back as he felt the warm water relax his tense muscles. Wiggling his toes, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, listening to a dreamy instrumental song that was peaceful if not a little melancholy.

The scent of vanilla filled his nose as the soothing notes of a piano accompanied by the serenade of a violin reverberated off the walls. Focusing on the comforting deluge of sensations he was experiencing, he was finally able to forget about all of his worries.

They melted away like wisps of smoke whipped away by the wind, leaving him completely unburdened. He would have to come up with a way to properly thank Stiles, he reflected as the playlist began replaying, informing him of how long he had been luxuriating in his bath.

With a content sigh, he pulled the stopper and stood, grabbing a towel off the rack to start drying himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he grabbed his phone to pause the playlist, shutting off the light on his way out of the bathroom.

He tossed his towel into the laundry hamper when he got to his bedroom, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he rooted through his drawers for his comfiest pajamas. Said pajamas consisted of a pair of flannel lounge pants that Stiles had given him at the start of the semester so Derek would have something with his scent on it.

Derek found himself smiling softly as he tugged them on, forgoing his usual boxer briefs in order to be as comfortable as possible. As he climbed into bed, he checked his phone out of habit. He had several unread messages from Stiles.

He was immediately worried that something was wrong. But when he checked his messages he was pleasantly surprised.

You're so amazing, Derek. I wish you could see that.

You're so smart and brave and strong.

You're gonna kick your finals' asses, babe. I just know it. Show ‘em who the alpha is.

I love you, Derek. I love you so freaking much it's ridiculous.

Derek smiled at the words long after he set his phone down and plugged it in for the night, falling asleep imagining Stiles whispering all of those sweet words into his ear. Yeah, he was going to be okay. He just needed Stiles to remind him sometimes.

[hipsofsteel]

10,000th Post!!!

When Eyes Meet Eyes

A short (and unplanned) prequel to ‘1917′ , for my 10,000th Tumblr post.

Summary: On August 20th, 1908, the “Great White Fleet” of the US Navy arrived in Sydney, Australia. It was the first time the personifications of the United States of America and the Australia met. And when eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.

Relationship: AmeTralia (America/Australia)

Work Status: Complete Work

Part Two of the Darwin series

Found on AO3

Found on Wattpad

I had always heard stories about America. Stories from England. Stories from Canada. Even stories from the others I interacted with from my distant corner of the world.

They spoke of him like a devil sometimes, or with fondness at others.

Canada said that sometimes my behavior reminded him of America. The way I would rush to tell them things, my overeager excitement, and reckless and somewhat absentminded nature. And I knew England saw him in me as well.

It hurt Arthur when I grew faster than he had expected, shooting up from somewhere around his knees to only an inch or two shorter than him in the time he took between visits, my booming industries gifting me with the same fast growth America had once experienced. I was an ever-present reminder of something he had lost, something he could never hope to regain. It put a strange distance between us, but I remained his loyal son, trying to help him forget the pain, at least in those early days.

Japan and China spoke of that distant land in somewhat different tones.

Japan spoke in fear. Of dragon ships spewing smoke and destruction, of negotiations all but held by the sword.

China, in pain, and through the haze of opium, spoke of him in a similar manner.

"A blue-eyed demon in the body of a man. An eagle, unafraid to bare his talons and sink them in. Ambitious and young, with a lust for power. He will either fade away, as many demons do, or overthrow the king and take that mantle himself."

They were legends, pieced together and telling me of a former colony who had caused the man who raised me such great pain. A nation now strong, covering a continent from sea to shining sea.

These legends were what I knew of him when he came in 1908 at my government’s invitation.

When I had learned Alfred was sailing with the "Great White Fleet", I begged for us to invite him to come to Australia. I was curious to meet this other nation, as isolated as I was from the rest of the world.

And so, it seemed, was he, for he accepted the invitation at once.

He came off that ship on that August day in all his glory, wearing the uniform of an office that would hardly befit a human so young, although he was no human. Blond hair tucked beneath a cap, a grin on his face, blue eyes sparkling like the waters off of the Great Barrier Reef.

He had not seen me yet. I suddenly felt almost small in his presence, the way I once had with England. He was tall, strong, and handsome. Something inside wanted to reach out to him in that moment, something I could not put a name too.

And then he saw me.

***

The invitation to take the fleet to Australia had delighted me more than it should have. For years, Canada had told me stories of the young colony, and often said we would get along well if we ever met.

I had doubted I would get the chance for many more years. I had considered writing letters, but I knew that England still burned any personal letters I sent to him. I doubted he would let me "corrupt his young colonies". The only reason he left Matthew and I alone before Matthew's independence was that he knew we must communicate frequently and freely due to our shared border.

So I jumped at the chance to meet these two young colonies I had heard so much about. Their invitations had surprised me, but I had welcomed this opportunity. England could no longer stop them from meeting me, and I had every reason to see them and show them what Americans could do.

New Zealand, or Avery, had been polite and calm during my visit to Auckland. They were a very quiet person, and reminded me of Matthew. We had shared a few drinks and laughed, and the conversation had been amiable, but I found myself sighing as I left. It had been a long way from Honolulu to Auckland, and while I had felt welcome, I had not felt the excitement I had hoped these voyages would fill me with.

Arriving in Sydney had felt no different at first. I had smiled at the sight of the land, and grinned at the people excitedly leaning over the edges of ropes to try and get a closer view of our ships. It was no different than the other places we had visited, and I had no reason to hope it would be.

What I had not prepared myself for, however, was my eyes meeting his. Those bright green eyes, like new leaves on a tree beneath soft brown locks, dark as the soil in the Willamette Valley, and skin tanned from the years under this harsh southern sun.

Our eyes met, and something in my heart almost lurched forward, beating in a rhythm that frightened and excited me at the same time. A feeling I had no name for filled me.

Many years later, I would read a phrase in a book that, given the future ahead of us, even unknown in that moment, described our meeting perfectly.

When eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.

And in the time it took for us to cross the docks and introduce ourselves, I felt that phrase in my heart, body, and soul.

And I know he felt the same.

***

We walked forward to meet each other, the men of my government who had come to greet this fleet, the men his had chosen to represent it.

The introductions went around.

And then they came to us.

"This is Kyle Kirkland, a young man in our employ."

It was a term those in the know often used to speak of us when they did not know if others were in the know. It was why we were always introduced last, and so informally, almost encouraging these men to forget us. It also helped that we often blended into the background to human eyes, although we all stood out in a room with only the others of our kind.

The officers smiled. "And this is Alfred F. Jones, who represents the personal interests of our President."

He smiled at me, and I felt my heart all but leap forward in my chest. We shook hands. 

His hands were warm like sandy beaches, and his grip was strong. A few seconds later, our men had looked away, our abilities to fade into the background protecting us from further notice.

"Always pleased to make my acquaintances with a Kirkland." He said with a smile once it was clear we were in no danger of being eavesdropped on.

I chuckled. "Consider yourself lucky that you got away with Jones as a last name after such an extensive history with him."

There's a faint laugh hidden on that face at that comment. "Yet somehow, Matthew also managed to escape such a fate."

"Yeah, he sure did, mate. But I expect that's more thanks to traits he has from a certain stubborn Frenchman."

Alfred chuckled. "I heard you got your stubbornness from a certain Scotsman."

"And Avery from a Welshman. You must have drained every ounce of stubbornness from the pommy bastard while he was still young."

Alfred's laughs at that had me grinning like a loon, and as we walked to where the formal dinner was to take place to greet our American visitors, I knew that this moment had been far too long in the making.

 He spent eight days in Sydney, and we ran around like young children. I told him the stories I had, and he shared his. We babbled like toddlers who had just gotten enough of a grasp on English to construct understandable sentences.

There were silent moments, when recalling our histories caused us too much pain. Even now, in the 21st century, we still feel those pains.

Nowadays, they are forgotten with a kiss.

Back then, it was a hand on the shoulder and a concerned voice.

"Kyle?"

"Sorry. My memories get a little hazy after that."

"I understand."

Year later, we would share our stories with each other, or as much as we could recall from before Arthur had arrived. Our tales and myths, our joys and sorrows, our fears of losing who we once had been, and acknowledging that, to a certain extent, we already had.

But being young, we tried to spend more time as children than adults. Trading stories of England and our quiet siblings, laughing at old antics we used to annoy them. I told him how England was doing personally, something he was not apparently told, even by Canada.

"I worry about him, but he shut me out long ago. I have no idea how to let him understand that I still care."

"One day you'll get it through his thick head. I know you will." I said, and my words apparently offered some comfort if the smile he gave me was anything to go by.

We laughed and smiled, hearts young as we continued to speak of happier times.

 I requested that my government let me go with him until his final stop in Albany, but my Prime Minister's response was scathing.

I won't transcribe the exact words he used, but I believe "childish" "irresponsible" and "Arthur would throw an absolute fit if he found out I'd even let you meet him once, let alone run around with him for eight days in Sydney. I don't dare imagine his response to allowing you to travel with Alfred until he leaves our homeland" all made their way into the message.

But as Alfred prepared to leave, he took my hands in his and grinned.

"Until we meet again, Kyle Kirkland."

"Until then, Alfred F. Jones."

And then he left.

We wrote letters, always friendly, although they were few and far between.

The next time we met face to face was in 1917, on a dock in France. I was no longer a boy. Gallipoli had made me a man.

He knew the moment he saw me that something had changed, but the wounds were too fresh, the pain too new. And besides, he was unsure how to approach me. Too much had changed in a mere nine years.

But then he saved Avery’s life in those hellish trenches. And in doing so, he saved a part of me I had feared was lost forever.

A kiss in the middle of the war should not have left such an impression as it did. But there was something there, something that had been lingering in our minds since 1908. A small spark was fanned into a small flame by that kiss, big enough to light a candle, although we spent more time lighting cigarettes in those days of war.

However, with the letters we shared and the agreement that perhaps this was something more than either of us could name, and that we wanted to make it more...

We spent the rest of the war fanning those flames into a full-blown fire.

A fire that still consumes us today.

When eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.

And even now, a hundred years later, I know those blue eyes as my place of rest.

As he knows my green ones as his.

[savemefromordinary-blog1]

My grandmother

I've met a lot of people in my life but there is one specific that is forever engraved in my mind. But the difference is that I did not just meet that person, I was lucky enough to have them in a period of my life and to create memories with them. That person was my grandmother. And I know that this particular "role" may not mean a lot to others but to me, it means the world. My grandma was my world. However, I didn't see her that often, not often at all actually. I got to visit her once a month. She lived with my grandpa in a place called "Peraxwra" which basically means "Far-away-country". Personally, I have two ways to interpret this name; it either means that this place was too far for us to visit often so that's why I didn't get to see her but it also means that I envied to go there so much because of all the fun I had that it seemed like it was an escape from all the other places in my life, maybe it had such an importance to me that it seemed like a whole country in my eyes. As for my grandma, she was always a quite person that was always willing to risk it all and fight for me. I knew she loved me. She was the only person I could find peace in. The only person that knew exactly the right way to make me feel good about myself. I loved her for that. I honestly can't remember once when we got in a serious fight. Not once. And even if we argued sometimes, I knew that she wanted the best for me. I guess you could say our characters were compatible but I would say she simply cared about me that much. As I previously mentioned, we didn't get to see each other that often but that doesn't mean that we hadn't built a strong connection. It wasn't just a connection at this point, it was a natural bond. You see, my grandma took care of me a lot when I was still a toddler. I may not remember much, but I sure do remember all the time she spent trying to help my mother take care of me. She lived in a different area at that time so it was possible for her to pick me up after pre-school and then take me to her house to make sure I had a place to stay since my mother worked during the day. I truly cannot forget all the time we spent watching disney movies and playing together. I couldn't get enough of her. As I grew over the years, the times had changed and sadly, nothing was the same anymore. My grandma faced some serious health problems. I remember going to a festival presenting traditional dances with her and my grandpa at Peraxwra on a summer night and while we were enjoying the show, my grandpa turns to her and starts yelling out of nowhere. He supposedly wanted her to drink her soda and eat the chips we had bought. I was so confused, I couldn't understand what was happening. Eventually, I asked him why he was pushing her so much to eat and drink but the next thing I know, she slowly closed her eyes and collapsed onto the ground. My grandpa picked her up, we rushed into the car and we took her to the nearest hospital. I was devastated. You see, I forgot to mention I was around 11 years old. I didn't even know how to react properly. It was the first time I saw my grandpa shed a tear. Fortunately, the doctor called us in his office after a while and the moment I entered the room where my grandma was, she slowly opened her eyes and winked at me. It was one of the happiest moments in my life. On the way home, we even stopped to get some of our favourite cheese pies to celebrate. It was our lucky treat. After that, I knew I had to enjoy every single moment with her because I could not let that happen again. After a while, everything was perfect, my grandparents even got a dog which I love very much to this day. I felt true happiness. Unfortunately the holidays were almost over so that meant I had to get back to school. However, both my grandma and my grandpa loved to travel and so they decided to take a little trip to the Czech Republic. I was really happy for them. So, to say goodbye, they stopped by our house and my grandma kissed me on the forehead, gave me a big hug and told me that she loved me. "I love you too." I replied.

In that particular trip though, she had an accident. A serious one. My grandpa found her laying on the pavement of the hotel they were staying at with blood all over her. She had gone outside to take some air. We didn't know how she fell whatsoever. Long story short, I was once again devastated. My grandpa took her to the hospital and he called out for help to my mother and to my aunt. At that time, I had to stay with my father and his complicated family while my mum was gone. A month had passed, all my savings were gone. But at least my grandma could be transported to our local hospital. That meant my mum could come back home too. I felt kind of relieved. After that, we went almost every single day to the hospital to visit her after school. My mum was trying to protect me from seeing my grandma in the bad condition she was in but to be honest, just the thought that she was still in the hospital and that I had to hope with all my heart every night that she would still be alive the next day, was way worse than seeing a couple of stitches. Some days, the doctor gave us some kind of hope like, for example, that she would be able to hear. However, that didn't really matter because even if she recovered, she would be stuck in a bed, paralyzed from the neck and down, only being able to hear us and see us. Not even talk. My mum and I both knew that wasn't fair for her. She didn't deserve to live that kind of life. So, on our last visit to the hospital, my mum went in the room to talk to her. She said "For once in your life, do what you want. Don't think about the others." And the next morning they called us to say that she had officially passed away. So yeah, she got to take two trips that autumn. I didn't go to school the next day. I missed a couple of days actually. I also went to her funeral. The first funeral I went to. I can even say the whole process of the funeral was way more painful than the hospital days. But at least I was there for her one last time. I owed that to her. But it wasn't a give-take situation, I genuinely wanted to see her one last time. Even if it was in that condition. Her body was cold. It was almost as if I could feel my tears freeze as they touched her face. That didn't match her character at all, to say the least. After her death, nothing really was the same. My grandpa's character had completely transformed, we didn't visit Peraxwra anymore except for the summer time and even the dog was sad for a long period of time, he wouldn't even eat. To this day, I don't think I ever stopped thinking about her. It would be a lie, though, to say that I haven't gone through a day without thinking of her. The truth is I had been trying to distract myself from my pain. Some days it worked, some it didn't. Either way, she's always in my heart, she's a permanent resident there. What surprises me the most about her though, was that right after her death, she gave both my mother and my aunt a beautiful gift; two babies, one sister and one cousin for me. I like to believe her spirit contributed in this, you can even say it's a miracle because the chances of my mum having a baby were very low. My grandma knew I always wanted a sister. She knew my aunt always wanted kids. You can't convince me that she didn't have to do anything with it. I don't know how, but as I said before, my grandma always had her special ways. I'm also really glad that I got to adopt some of her unique characteristics, even some of her face expressions. There are even times my mum will look at my and say "that grin on your face is just like your grandma's". Apart from her character, my lovely sister that is now 4 years old and my cousin, my grandma occasionally visits me in my sleep and makes me reminisce about those days and remind me how much I still love her. That is truly one of the best gifts I can ever get.

[awfully-sadistic]

Hospital

“You may want to try avoiding the use of the ‘H’ word right now, Grandfather.”

       Angelino looked up from bouncing Lala on his knee. A look of mild surprise had crossed those old, gray features before it was replaced by his typical expression of amusement; twinkling gold eyes and an ever-present grin spread widely across a hardened jaw. The silver fox had taken the statement in stride, just like any other aspect thrown at him. Except he very clearly had no idea what his grandson had been speaking of.

       “Che cos'è...?” he asked before shifting his attention to Lala once again. It wasn’t that hard to do because her giggles filled the room and their ears in the most pleasant of sounds. It had been a very long time since Angelino had the chance to play with a small child. Never mind the strange circumstances surrounding the small toddler body now wiggling and babbling in baby speak for Angelino’s attention.

       “I meant…” Angelo looked a little hesitant before it hit him that he could just speak in Italian without tipping Lala off to the word. “…Ospedale.”

       Angelino’s dark brow just rose at the word, confused as to why it would have been scary for Lala to hear that word. It seemed like he didn’t need to wait for an explanation before Angelo started again.

       “It’s Alessio’s doing,” he simply put and perhaps first because he didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings that this was any of his doing. Of course, this wasn’t sufficient enough of an explanation for Angelino and to be honest, it really did not make any sense. “Alessio has been having a tough time trying to have Lala warm up to him. It is not that she refuses to, but it is that Alessio is …scary.”

       Angelino burst out into laughter that startled the three toddlers. Lala was in his lap, having stilled in her babbling to stare wide-eyed at the laughing giant while Felina and Renee were seated at those big dress shoes, playing with blocks. The giant man himself hadn’t even noticed he had disturbed the children as he continued on his conversation with his eldest grandson.

       “I can see why she would be scary. Alessio has his mother’s face.”

       Angelo paled before looking around as if something would have stormed into the room at the mention of that slight; but Angelino wasn’t wrong. The Frenzy Matriarch had such strong features that could have only accentuated that diamond shaped face she had. Angelo resisted the temptation to cross himself before glancing back over to his grandfather, looking weary.

       “Mother is going to be paying you a visit in your dreams tonight, Grandfather…”

       And apparently, Angelino had forgotten about this until Angelo had brought it up. The color immediately drained from his face and his entire body tensed, ducking down low enough so he could hide behind Lala’s toddler body—which was entirely ridiculous looking. It was like an elephant hiding behind a small mouse.

       “Are you trying to curse me?!”

       “I think you did that to yourself when you kept bringing Mother into this.”

       “Quella donna è così spaventosa…” he muttered before straightening his spine. It wasn’t like anything was happening right now. That brief exchange was allowed to be pushed into the furthest part of Angelino’s mind (like most supernatural aspects he’d sooner like to forget) before the topic switched back to Angelo’s predicament.

       “As I was saying… Alessio was trying to condition Lala to fear me but instead, it backfired and now he cannot even be in the same room as her without Lala crying her eyes out.”

       “Then he deserves it, no?”

       Angelo would have agreed if Alessio wasn’t taking his aggression out about it with everyone else in the Family. “That much is true but…” and he explained the many instances around the Haus where not only the Frenzy’s but the Dreadful’s are getting mingled into Alessio’s bad mood.

       “I don’t think the one named Jax has even woken up yet. Ripley was the first one taken out and I think she is still buried in the backyard up to her neck.” Angelo muttered, hand to his chin as he looked thoughtful reciting the last bit of information to the Frenzy Patriarch. “So far, I’ve just put word out to stay out of his way.”

       Angelino was nodding though he was making silly faces at Lala. “That would be for the best, yes.”

       Angelo’s shoulders slumped when it seemed like he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of Angelino at this point and it wasn’t because he was distracted with Lala. Angelo’s guess was that the situation wasn’t an emergency despite his heir, one of his grandsons, and …well, Lala was a special case in relation to him… fact of the matter was that they were still toddlers and not getting any closer to a solution to revert them back to their original states. However, looking at Angelino, it really didn’t seem like he was in any hurry.

       “I still don’t understand how Alessio managed to ruin the word hos—“

       “A-Ah, not aloud, Grandfather!” Angelo cut in as soon as his ears picked up on the word, placing a hand on his Grandfather’s shoulder and squeezing in gently reminder.

       “Sì, sì…” he waved a hand to dismiss that reminder and Angelo lifted his grip, still looking weary about the direction of this conversation. Angelino seemed so light-hearted about the matter! But the elderly man continued. “That forbidden word. I don’t understand how it came to that point. Explain.”

       Angelo’s mouth pursed to the side as he tried to think of the easiest way he could explain. “Mmm, Alessio took my profession into consideration. He would use anything associated with eh… l'ospedale like my lab coat and stethoscope, trying to make them sinister so he could associate my profession into something she would find terrifying—like a horrible twist of this word association against me.”

       Angelino let out another laugh, “And how well did that work for him?”

       “Well enough for it to backfire on him; she now associates those “scary” things with him. My guess was that it was because of the intense look on his face; he really does put 100% of himself into the things he does… and without realizing the harm he was doing.” Angelo finished while using a hand to rub the back of his neck. He looked tired just reciting this info.

       “Where is he now?”

       “My guess is…” Angelo paused, his gaze trailing over Angelino’s broad shoulder to the door behind him. A set of narrowed eyes were glowering at him. “…there.”

       Angelino turned his head, looking in the direction Angelo indicated and true enough, his grandson was peering around the corner and not being too sneaky about it either. He was blatantly staring at them and luckily, those broad shoulders of his enabled him to block the sight from Lala. At least, until he walked inside.

       “How long are you intending on standing there?” Angelo asked with a dry tone.

       “As long as it takes,” Alessio replied without missing a beat.

       Angelino just chuckled, turning in his seat now and bringing Lala with him. Once those little eyes settled on Alessio standing at the doorway, she began screaming her head off. Angelino looked mighty surprised and Alessio looked mighty annoyed. To calm her, Angelino had to turn back around, hiding her from his sight.

       “See, the bad man is gone!” he laughed, extending his hands out and wiggling his fingers. Lala was smiling and giggling again at Angelino’s silly antics, Alessio seemingly forgotten.

       “You brought this on yourself for what you tried to pull,” Angelo jabbed. Alessio just snorted.

       “I just need to stay around, exposure therapy.”

       “…Do not…”

       “Well, perhaps it would be best to expose Lala to Alessio in small doses and he can’t look scary.” Angelino stated, throwing a look over his shoulder to his disgruntled grandson.

       “I’m afraid we cannot do much about his face,” Angelo said. “We are twins but we are so different.” He gave a forlorn sigh.

       “I’m going to punch you.”

       “You’ll only further scare Lala.”

       Alessio answered in silence like with most things he does. Angelino suddenly snapped his fingers, looking very enlightened. “I’ve got it!”

       “What is it?” Alessio asked, partly tempted to try anything at this point. He hadn’t had the chance to really hold toddler!Lala whatsoever. It was more annoying than a pebble in one’s shoe or that annoying sound that comes out of Ripley’s mouth that she calls her voice.

       “A costume,” Angelino answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

       “No.”

       “What kind of costume?”

       The twins asked at the same time. Of course, Angelo was asking about the sort of costume Alessio would have to fit in because it would also have to cover his face and Alessio thought there could be a hundred different other plans that would have worked better than wearing a costume.

       “Hmm, I think we have an old mascot costume from the last Headquarters picnic.”

       “Oh, the purple dinosaur.” Angelo smiled though it wasn’t back on the fond memories of any of their company picnics. The thought of Alessio wearing the costume was giving him some sort of sadistic pleasure. “I think that’s a great idea, Grandfather.”

       I think I’m going to drown you in the lake with it, Alessio shot straight into Angelo’s mind with so much venom, Angelo was only blinking in surprise.

       “That is so violent, Alessio. Lala will never warm up to you that way.”

       An annoyed grunt was the only other thing thrown his way for the rest of the night.

 Translations:

1] What is it?

2] Hospital

3] That woman is so scary…