#everyone nearby is very uncomfortable and actively pretends they don’t know them

[saturnyukaa]

giggling very hard thinking about tristeva at yumalia’s wedding because while i KNOW tot heavily rushed the wedding so we barely saw any reactions (or much of. yknow, ANYTHING.), they were most definitely sobbing uncontrollably and clutching onto eachother for dear life the entire time

[ddarker-dreams]

Christmas Together / Scarlet Ribbons.

kicking off the christmas season with some highly indulgent hcs ! i’m also planning to write mini scenarios of getting caught under the mistletoe with each bucci gang member ehehe 

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Bruno Bucciarati;

It’s likely that Bruno will be the one you spend your first Christmas in Italy with. He’ll do everything that he can to make it a memorable experience for you, from taking you sightseeing to offering to spend the day together. His emphasis is always on the togetherness the season is meant to bring, so he’ll do what he so you never feel lonely or homesick. 

When you’re dating, he’ll ask to take you to his hometown on the sea during the holiday season. Bruno wants to show you, the most important person in his life, where he had made beloved childhood memories. Of course, this includes treating you to meals and a stay in a luxury hotel. Bruno’s overjoyed to share this aspect of himself with you, an innocence that he long thought departed from him. You get to create new memories and reminiscence on old ones together.

The most likely from everyone here to propose during the holiday season. It feels fitting somehow, after sharing this much about himself and his ideals, that you two could eternally be tied together. Should you say yes, Bruno would obviously be elated, holding you so tight without intending to let go for as long as you should indulge him. Afterward, he’d bring you to the area his father is buried, saying that he’s now in good hands with you.

What Bruno would get you: A ring, whether it be an engagement ring or just a token of his love until you’ll have him as your husband. It’d likely cost a small fortune, a gold twist ring with a diamond in the center. 

What Bruno would like from you: Honestly, this man needs a week or so away. Of course with you to sweeten to deal. Promise him a cruise and he’ll be putty in your hands. 

Giorno Giovanna;

Growing up, Giorno never got to truly celebrate Christmas, only learning about it in school. Due to that, he’s knowledgeable about the holiday but doesn’t feel a real connection to it. His newfound enthusiasm would come from getting to watch you enjoy the various activities. He does his best to create more time in his busy schedule as not to miss out on this time meant to be spent with those dearest to him. 

He would honestly melt if you brought him hot chocolate while he’s working in his office. It’s a small but touching gesture that warms his heart, it feels so surreal to him to have someone who loves him as much as you do. Giorno will invite you to stay with him so that the two of you can sit on the couch together, setting his work aside as he by far favors your company. Might get a bit mischievous and dab away the whipped cream you get on your face, leaning in closer than necessary with a sly smile. 

Gold Experience Requiem is something of a sentient Stand, but still closely reflects Giorno’s wishes that he keeps locked away. While the two of you are walking somewhere, his Stand will imbue life into a nearby object, creating mistletoe that hangs above your heads. Giorno would bashfully apologize for his Stand’s behavior, only to be pleasantly surprised when you go on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He will be thinking about this moment for the rest of the week, god, your lips are so soft and feel so nice.

What Giorno would get you: Everything . No, but really, Giorno is going to want to spoil you even more than usual. You look at something in a window for .00001 seconds and it’s going to be wrapped up and given to you. Somebody stop this man .

What Giorno would like from you: Poor boy probably hasn’t ever gotten a Christmas present before, so anything would touch his heart. Giorno would love anything handmade or with sentimental value. A scrapbook or photos would be treasured. 

Guido Mista;

Mista has honestly never really thought this time of year is anything special, not that he doesn’t enjoy it. He’s just never been big into holidays and stuff. Experiencing all these things with you changes his tune towards it though, it makes it all the more special. Every cheesy couple activity under the sun is going to be done with him, a goofy grin on his face. He’s so in love and can’t wait to make dumb memories together. 

For some reason, he’s oddly determined to make a gingerbread man house with you. The gingerbread man cookies he decorates look a little off, their proportions funny and icing smeared everywhere. If you can’t hold back your laughter at the nightmarish looking creatures, he’s going to smear icing on your face, so beware. Mista will lick it off before running away from your wrath. 

Sex Pistols get included in the celebration too of course. They’d be over the moon should you make cookies that look like them, though if you look away for a second too long, they’re still going to eat them. Most of your cooking consists of Mista trying to shoo away Pistols while you’re doing a majority of the work lmao. Number Five does his best to help! He’ll turn the recipe book’s pages for you and offer to help decorate. It’s super precious. 

What Mista would get you: Ugly sweaters that he thinks are cool looking and literally everything on your wishlist. He spends all day wrapping your dozens of presents with Pistols pitching in.

What Mista would like from you: Mista is an easygoing guy, so he’d love basically anything. Put a bow on your head and say you’re his gift and it’ll really get him going. ; ) 

Pannacotta Fugo;

Fugo doesn’t associate Christmas with warm and fuzzy memories. He remembers all the dreadful socialite parties his parents would drag him to, how he was forced into uncomfortable tuxedos for hours, pretending like they were a happy family. With you in life his now, he’s willing to give it another go, but would need some encouragement. Fugo would only be doing it for your sake since he’s so whipped for seeing you happy. <3

Would love walking hand in hand with you through Via San Gregorio Armeno, taking in the remarkable craftsmanship of the nativity scenes. Fugo will visibly light up at the chance to impress you with his knowledge. He excitedly goes into rambles about the history of various things, from saints to traditions that were born in Naples. He’ll have a cute flush on his cheeks when he finishes speaking, realizing how you’re able to get him to talk so much. It’s precious. 

Fugo is very insistent that you bundle up during this wintery season. Before you leave to go anywhere, he’s mumbling that you’re going to catch a cold, throwing scarves over you. He would never admit it, but the sight of you all bundled up with cheeks flushed from the cold is literally the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life. Don’t point out his staring, or he’ll get sulky. 

What Fugo would get you: Fugo would fret over getting a gift you’d like. He’d go somewhat old fashioned, getting you a beautiful necklace that has your birthstone in the middle. 

What Fugo would like from you: Attention. No, but really, he loves learning, get him some books on a topic he recently got interested in and he’ll be over the moon. Especially if you write a little note for him, he’d ascend.  

Narancia Ghirgha;

Narancia is practically vibrating in excitement over getting to spend this time with you. He’ll tell you all the stuff he wants to do, enthusiastically waving his arms around, though it’s unlikely you’ll be able to do everything he wants. Narancia is going to be glued to your hip, ready to experience all the mushy couple stuff he can. He’s a bit clingy during this time, but indulge him, he hasn’t had good Christmas memories since his mom was alive and healthy. 

God bless your soul if it snows . You probably already expect as much from him at this point, but he’s going to be throwing snowballs at you, laughing and running around when you pout at him. Narancia has a competitive streak, so throwing them back will incite a wild snowball fight. It’s all fun and games until he breaks out Aerosmith to attack your snow fort, then you’re having to reprimand him for using his Stand. >:((

He’ll tell you what it was like being in a detention center during Christmas, opening up more about his past. While he doesn’t seem to recount the time with obvious pain, you know him well and can tell when he’s hurting. Narancia would honestly consider proposing to you on the spot when you comfort him, saying that he’ll never have to spend this time of year alone now that he has you. It’s a sweet moment that he’ll literally never forget. 

What Narancia would get you: Narancia would spend days making a custom mixtape, full of songs that you both love!!! He’d accompany the CD with bags of candy, bashfully offering to feed it to you. 

What Narancia would like from you: If you wrote a song for him, he would probably cry from happiness. Narancia would be clapping like a madman when you finished singing it, saying it’s the best thing he’s ever heard in his life, and fully meaning it too.

Leone Abbacchio;

From an outsider’s perspective, one might expect Abbacchio to take a Grinch-like approach towards Christmas, but he’s surprisingly fine with it. Aside from loud caroling. He’ll make his displeasure for that known. It’s kind of always been just another month for him, but for your sake, he’ll make an effort to do whatever you please. Abbacchio grumbles as you drag him from place to place, but he’s literally melting on the inside at your cute enthusiasm. :’)

Abbacchio would forever imprint the sight of you in the snow into his memory. He watches the snowflakes dance around you, falling into your hair and glistening beautifully. While you’re going around trying to catch the snow, he allows himself this single happiness, silently wondering if he deserves it after everything he’s done. Before the negative thoughts can fester, you call him over, asking to make snow angels together. He doesn’t do it, he’ll just watch you having fun lmao.

You actually managed to convince him to wear matching sweaters, but not without a fair share of puppy eyes. Abbacchio is inclined to give in to most of your whims and this time is no different. Of course, he’ll only do it if no one is around, to save his honor. He’d enjoy having an arm wrapped around you by the fireplace, closing his eyes in contemplation. He feels immense gratitude to your presence in his life. 

What Abbacchio would get you: Similar to Fugo, Abbacchio would feel worried about getting a good gift. He knows he can be prickly at times and feels this would be an opportunity to showcase his love for you. Eventually settles on a night out at your favorite restaurant and gifts you a bracelet at the end. 

What Abbacchio would like from you: Your hand in marriage, he’d appreciate simple little things with lots of thought put into them. Making him breakfast, getting him a pair of shoes that goes with one of his outfits, stuff like that. 

Trish Una;

Trish lives for all the cute couple-y stuff that you two can do during this season. Even if she won’t admit it outright, you can sense her excitement, but she’ll pout if you point it out. She’s not much for baking usually but will want to make cookies with you on the weekends as a date. Trish especially likes decorating them and gets super focused on getting the details perfect. 

You two go on so many shopping trips. Trish will be holding your hand, taking you from store to store, trying on clothes together. She loves giving you recommendations based on what would complement your body type, you’ll be dressed to perfection at the end of the day. Trish doesn’t even bother looking at the price tags, she just picks what looks good and keeps going lmao. 

In your downtime together, she’s going to be singing softly to you, running her hands through your hair as you lay down on her lap. Trish lives for intimate moments like this. She remembers how she loved spending Christmas with her mother, and while it hurts she can no longer do that, she’s immensely grateful to be with you. It makes the loneliness she would’ve felt more bearable. If you fall asleep while she sings to you, Trish will place a kiss to your forehead, whispering how she loves you in a way she’d normally be too embarrassed to. 

What Trish would get you: Fashion and makeup baby !! It wouldn’t be exclusive to one day either. Lip gloss, eyeshadow palettes, new shoes, jewelry, bath bombs, the whole works. She gets a bit too into it. 

What Trish would like from you: Matching accessories would make her heart practically beat out of her chest. That, or a charm bracelet, with charms linked to specific memories of your time together. <33

[suite43]

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Starscream muttered, glaring from where he was laying in bed, wings tucked to one side.

"Where else am I supposed to go?" Bumblebee asked. He wasn't looking at Starscream, just standing on the other side of the room, staring out one of the absurdly massive windows at the city below.

Bumblebee sighed. It was late. Really late. Slug was probably getting dragged out of Maccadam's right about now, probably by a cranky Ironhide and the other dinobots. Wheeljack would still be up, somewhere, if not at the bar then tucked away in a workshop or other. Blurr was probably still working. Bee absently wondered what time it was on Earth, and if Optimus was okay, and tried to guess where the Lost Light might be right now.

He missed them.

Recently he'd taken to spending his nights wandering around the massive Iacon tower where Starscream lived. It was always mostly empty in the late hours. He'd mentally mapped almost all of it. Down to the basement to watch whatever the hell Starscream had his mnemosurgeon up to, thinking up ways to chastise him for it in the morning. Around the public spaces, tracing the patterns of the incredible stained glass windows and the tiling of the floors. Up and down dozens of flights of winding stairs that probably would've killed him had he still had a physical body. He still felt an ache in his bad knee, some nights. Through the offices of the delegates, often catching miss Windblade working late, muttering to herself, or occasionally talking to Chromia.

But he knew the tower too well. It was beginning to just remind him of how fucking alone he was. He'd long since overcome any nerves or feelings of impoliteness about eavesdropping, but it was still painful to walk in and out of rooms without so much of an acknowledgement that he'd been there at all. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes in the late late nights in big empty towers where he could scream and yell and stomp as much as he wanted and nobody would so much as blink, a part of Bumblebee began to think that maybe Starscream is right.

Does it even matter? The more sleepless nights spent wandering empty buildings as a pathetic excuse for a poltergeist made Bee start to think that if everyone else was convinced he was a hallucination, maybe he was.

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Starscream didn't respond at first, leaving Bee to his thoughts. Or maybe he was having thoughts of his own. Equally broody ones, probably. Bumblebee wanted to not care what Starscream was thinking. But he cared.

"You could at least sit down."

///

Days bled into weeks into months, and their interactions became more comfortable, despite everything. There was less denial on Starscream's part, that certainly helped. Being told you're not real twenty-seven times a day by the only person who can see you isn't exactly good for ones mental state, and Bee was greatful for the change.

The nights were still hard.

As far as Bee could tell, he didn't need to sleep. But, even when the stubborn bastard said otherwise, Starscream did. Which meant there were usually at least a few hours Bee had to pass alone.

Most nights does not mean every night, though. Starscream was still an insomniac.

And at some point, Bee had moved from sitting by the window and brooding to dragging the chair closer to Star's bed, encouraged by one too many passionate late-night conversations about some plan or other that they'd gotten way too into.

Being closer to Starscream meant more noticing the tossing and turning, the restless flicker of optics and quiet uncomfortable muttering that filled his nights before Starscream would eventually give up on the whole "sleep" thing, shoving his face into a pillow and letting out a string of swears.

"Are you okay?" Bee asked, one such night.

"What do you care?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Tch. Hardly."

"If you're worried about keeping a secret, remember I physically can't talk to anyone else. If you're worried about embarrasing yourself, remember I'm literally dead. No matter what you are actively doing better than I am in terms of survival."

"And yet, that doesn't stop you from being one judgy son of a bitch."

"Eh, it's an autobot thing. Judgy is what we do, isn't it?"

"Agreed," Starscream smirked, despite how exhausted he seemed, and something in Bee's chest gave a slight lurch at the sight.

"Seriously, whats bothering you?"

///

There came a point where "comfortable" became "casual", which became borderline intimate at times, which was astounding. Despite being stubborn and cagey and completely avoidant about 90% of his real issues, Starscream had managed to be genuine for long enough to manage good conversations.

Bee felt much more certain with that. Starscream was connecting with him, in his way. Which meant that Bee couldn't be that fake, or that annoying. He was probably real. Which was confidence-boosting. He didn't dread alone time nearly as much, knowing that he was making an impact on at least one person during the day made the nights a bit easier. Still, Starscream didn't sleep much.

"I don't get it..." He was drunk, and muttering, more talking at Bumblebee than to him, tired and barely coherent and definetly obsessing. Starscream could barely keep his eyes open. He was laying in his bed, which was pressed into a corner of the room, facing the nearby wall.

The nearby wall, which happened to have a Bee blocking the view. He had sat himself in Starscream's bed, in one corner, leaning up against the walls, cane laying next to him, repeating bits of information back to Star and correcting him on this or that detail, rebuttling his more outrageous claims with bored No, you won't's and Really, Starscream?'s.

"You're driving headfirst into a cliffside and then wondering why you aren't getting anywhere," Bee said, interrupting Starscream's latest rambling.

"Well, if you're so smart, what would you suggest I do?"

"Go to bed, tackle it again in the morning when you have the common sense to climb." Bee smiled a little. He sounded almost like Prime. Or maybe more like Wheeljack? Didn't matter. It was solid advice.

"Or fly. I'm a jet."

"Sure, or fly, whatever. Go the fuck to sleep. You need it."

"I don't need you."

"Didn't say you did." Bee rolled his eyes.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do."

"Somebody has to at least try to make sure Cybertron's great and powerful leader isn't falling asleep at his desk tommorow."

"I've earned the right to nap wherever I damn well please."

"Not during a trial. Or a council meeting. Or-"

"We have a council meeting tommorow?"

"Yeah, you do, it's in your schedule. It's early."

"Fuck," he rubbed at his eyes. "I should've thought about that before I went and drank half a bottle of high-grade."

"I tried to warn you." Bee didn't see the point in mentioning that it was considerably more than half a bottle. He'd figure it out in the morning.

"...Thanks." It was quiet, and a little ashamed, and shockingly sincire.

"Um. You're welcome? I do my best."

Starscream stared at him for a moment, expression focused but unreadable. Then he rolled over, shifting his wings, snuggling in to make himself more comfortable, still muttering to himself even as he drifted off.

Bee sighed, letting himself slide down until he was laying on the bed. He could feel it under him, sort of. It was firm, but not much else. He didn't feel the smoothness of the silky fabric he knew Starscream spent way too much money on, nor the warmth that should be eminating from the sleeping seekers frame. He did, however, feel the steady thrum of Starscream's spark. It reverberated in the hollow of Bee's own chest, where his own sparkbeat was barely a faint flicker.

He wondered if Starscream felt that in the same way. A small, persistent tug at the edge of his spark, even when they weren't near each other. If he did, he'd probably call it guilt.

Bee sighed and closed his eyes, just focusing on the spark's pulse, the soft push and pull. He might not be able to actually sleep, but he could at least pretend for a bit.

///

Bee groaned and pulled himself out of bed, finally giving up as he left his apartment and marched down the night streets, following the tugging weight at the edge of his spark until he was face to face with a door into a familiar apartment in a familiar building and he was suddenly hit with a wave of what the fuck am I doing?

He spent a minute arguing with himself over whether or not he ought to actually knock on the door, but it turned out to be useless, because it slid open without him doing much of anything at all. In the doorway stood a weary Starscream looking surprised, but also not, to see the yellow minibot in front of him.

"Bee?"

"Uh, hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well," Bee suddenly felt very foolish. "I, uh, can't sleep."

"And... you came here?"

"Yeah. I guess."

Starscream just stared at him for a minute before turning away with a huff, retreating into the apartment, the door left open behind him. It seemed as good an invitation as he was going to get, so Bee followed him in.

He wandered through the apartment, following Starscream back to the bedroom, already feeling some of his nerves beginning to settle just by being here. It wasn't the same apartment Starscream had had when he was ruling the planet, but it was similar enough. Same decor, same layout. A bit smaller, but still, the whole place was overwhelmingly Starscream. He spilled out of the furniture, painted the walls and filled every nook and cranny with himself. His presence was, as always, undeniable and overwhelming. To Bumblebee, it just felt safe.

Neither of them really talked, and in fact barely even spared a glance towards the other as they climbed into bed, both for embarrasment's sake and a lingering fear that adressing what was happening would break it.

They continued not acknowledging it until Starscream, muttering something about his wings, rolled over to face Bee's back. Bee could feel Starscream's sparkbeat flittering anxiously, and was having to make a concious effort to keep his own close to steady as he moved backwards to press right against Starscream's chest.

There was a moment where Starscream froze, unsure of exactly what to do, but eventually he decided on tenatively wrapping an arm around Bumblebee's waist, growing more confident when Bee melted into it, relishing the simple touch.

Bumblebee slept better that night, pulled against Starscream's chest, knowing he was held and safe and real, then he had in weeks.

///

Bumblebee woke up first the next morning, Starscream's face nuzzled into the space between his shoulders, the jets breathing even and warm against Bee's plating.

He didn't make any move to get up, or even so much as twitch. He wanted to squeeze every second he could out of it, before Starscream woke up and shoved him away again and whatever this was inevitably ended.

But that didn't happen. Eventually, Starscream stirred, coming online with a jolt, like the act of waking had snuck up and startled him. He pulled away from Bee, looking around the room, letting his processor catch up with who and where he was. After a moment he soothed, letting out a shaky breath and pressing his face against Bee's cheek, wrapping his arms back around the minibot's waist.

"You're still here?" Star muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

"Where else would I go?" Bumblebee said. He didn't say it outright, but he used every fiber of his being to push I just want to be wherever you are out at Starscream and hope he got the message, because Bee didn't think he could say it out loud.

Apparently it was good enough, because Starscream's arms around him squeezed him tighter and he gently, so softly that it nearly seemed as if he was scared, pressed a kiss to Bee's neck.

"Thanks," he said. A part of Bee wanted to say for what? and another wanted to say you don't have to thank me and another wanted to say i love you, but he didn't say any of those things. Instead, he turned himself over, trying not to pull away from Starscream any more than he absolutely had to, and he kissed him properly. It was soft, and inexperienced, and lazy, and it was so good that Bee felt like sobbing.

He blinked away tears and let his head fall to lean against Starscream's chest, hands tracing their way up and down the plating of Starscream's arms softly. He kissed the golden glass of Star's chest, listening to the thrum of the spark behind it, the way it pulsed in time with his own, the tugging feeling sated for now but the presence of Star's spark alongisde his own as strong as ever.

[fandomwriterstuff]

“Okay, crew,” Chief of Operations Annabeth Chase, a proud Minervan, held the attention of her group as she searched all of their eyes with her own piercing silver ones. “Our new First Officer, you’ve all met him. Peseus Jackson. I know at least two of you are friends with him, and Chief Science Officer DiAngelo is in an involved romantic relationship with him. I need the three of you to give us a run down on humanology so we can welcome our first and only human crew member appropriately and treat him well. My knowledge of humans is limited, but he’s not from the colonies in the Milky Way Galaxy, he’s from actual Terra,” she squeezed her face up in a common Minervan expression of distaste. “My knowledge of Terra is limited to this, which I will share with you now: Terra is a Class 2 Death Planet, humans are apex predators and the dominant species. They are reigned by the chemical imbalances in their brains and can be erratic in behavior because of it. However, despite these things, I have been advised to get a human on our team. So, Valdez, Underwood, DiAngelo: speak.” She leaned back, metallix skin glinting in the energy efficient lighting.

“First off, uh, humans are about a 2.2 on a food chain that goes to a level 5, so I wouldn’t call Percy an apex predator,” Grover Underwood, a satyr from outside the Milky Way Galaxy shuffled his hooved feet. “He’s actually a vegetarian-”

“What’s a vegetarian,” Annabeth cut in, narrowing her eyes.

“Um, well, most humans are omnivores and can eat both plant matter and animal flesh. But, because of personal choices, Percy only eats plant matter,” Grover explained.

“Humans can eat plant and animal matter?” Clarisse grunted.

“Their teeth and digestive systems have adapted to both, yes. But, again, Percy only eats plant matter, so not a scary apex predator. Plus, most humans don’t hunt anymore.”

“We’re getting off track,” Annabeth groaned. “But good to know about plant matter. Valdez, go.”

“Percy is awesome. We lived together in the academy. He is from New York City, where there are no true predators and also no real natural places, so he will adjust just fine to being on a ship for an extended period of time, but he does love his plants and having and caring for houseplants is statistically good for humans. Percy gives his names. So, we should make sure he has a leafy plant or a flower or something,” Leo added, and when DiAngelo nodded in agreement, Annabeth noted down to bring some Terran plants on board. “Also some humans have physical needs,” Leo tilted his head in confusion as he tried to explain it. “Percy uses exercise as a way to exorcise his mental demons, if you will.”

“Mental demons, is he ill? Possessed?” Annabeth cut in.

“No, but it’s how you said. They’re ruled by emotion. If we don’t have a therapist on board, he’ll need to exercise and train and use physical activity as an outlet. I suggest a training regimen with the tactical team,” Grover nodded to Clarisse, their Chief Tactical Officer.

“That can be arranged,” the Martian nodded in agreement.

“DiAngelo, anything to add?” Annabeth turned to their resident Plutonian, who shrugged his shoulders, his large black wings moving in sync with his gesture.

“If anything comes up, I’ll let you know. But if any of you make him feel uncomfortable I’ll make you regret it,” he raised a single eyebrow. His boyfriend was a big tough guy, but he was also a big softy who would pack-bond with a Roomba if he came across it.

“That’s not helpful. But thanks,” Annabeth clenched her hands.

“Oh, one thing,” Nico raised a finger. “Don’t mention that he’s from a Death Planet. Terrans don’t know they’re on a Death Planet. And it will freak him out. Don’t let him know.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Will Solace, their Chief Medical Officer squawked. “He doesn’t know he’s from a Class 2 Death Planet?”

“You don’t know you’re adaptable until you meet people who aren’t. And you don’t know you’re on a death planet until you leave it. He’ll figure it out, but don’t bring it up right away. Humans get flooded with negative hormones when their worldview is altered until they come to terms with it, and it would negatively affect his physiology and performance to be shocked like that,” Nico elaborated.

“Okay…” Annabeth sighed. “We’ll meet him tomorrow. I will see you all then and you better be on your most professional behavior.”

Nico smirked. It would surely be interesting. Everyone had preconceived notions and prejudices about humans and while Percy was a big and tough human who could kick your ass with one hand tied behind his back, he would also do anything for those he cared about and was a huge dork. And he definitely knew he was on a death planet.

So, when Percy arrived, and Nico had decorated his room with houseplants and blue blankets and decor, he was overjoyed. He would miss his Golden Pothos (lovingly named Billingsly), and his Snake Plant (William Snakespeare), and he was glad to still have plants in his life. Nico had even gotten him a plant light so they would stay alive!

He was glad to see Leo again, and Grover was his best bud so that was cool. He also got to meet Grover’s long time girlfriend Juniper, who was also a herbivore and lived solely on plant matter. The pilot, Jason Grace, was a Jovian who Percy had already formed a bro bond with, and he had taught Jason all about handshakes and high fives. He’d met Will Solace, the only person other than Nico who actually knew about human physiology. He did have to explain to Will that he had ADHD and dyslexia, so the CMO had decided to get some more Terran books on those to more adequately treat his patients. It was nice. Clarisse was a hard ass but Percy loved training with her. She taught him about more weapons than they even had at the Academy, and taught him hand to hand in various different styles.

Annabeth was confusing. Percy was convinced she didn’t like him, but he could also tell she was trying very hard not to offend him.

Probably because everyone was terrified of humans. Earth was the Australia of space after all. So, he knew that him smiling all the time was taken as a sign of aggression, like animals baring their teeth. He knew the laughter he so often emitted freaked others out because it was a non-translatable noise that nobody understood.

Percy knew they were trying, but they just didn’t know or care to know enough about Earth to understand him.

So, that’s how he ended up using plain water as a contact solution because he ran out of saline eight days ago. It’s not like he could ask Will if he could use medical grade saline for something so silly. So Percy sat in his commander chair and rubbed roughly at his eyes as they itched and fluttered.

“Commander Jackson, are you well?” Annabeth called from her position nearby, though it was loud enough for others to turn. He pulled his fists away from his reddened eyes and irritated skin.

“Oh, yeah. But my contacts have been bothering me. I ran out of solution and have been using plain old water to clean and store them in,” Percy sighed and rubbed his fingers under his eyes to readjust them.

“Contacts?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“Yeah, hold on,” Percy pulled his contacts case out of his satchel and, in an agonizingly amusing moment, he pulled his lower lid down and used his fingers to pull the contacts out and put them into the case. He heard the gasps around him and retching noises, but couldn’t see the horrified faces until he put his glasses on.

“Holy Father Pelor,” Nyssa, another Vulcan like Leo, gulped. “Did he just… remove a piece of his eyes?”

Percy pretended to be surprised, because this was just another thing to add to the “Death Planet” list: Humans can remove pieces of their visual organs when they become irritated. He loved messing with them.

“Percy, I thought I told you not to remove those in front of anyone,” Nico joined in, rolling his eyes in a very Terran gesture.

“They were bothering me, you know when they get itchy and dry it’s just easier to take them out.”

“So what are the glass and metal contraptions you wear now?” Nyssa asked against her better judgement.

“When I remove the contacts, I lose my ability to see clearly and I need glass lenses to alter my vision enough to function,” Percy explained.

“So, you removed an imperative part of your eye, and then you couldn’t see, so you made a prism that reflects light in such a way that it imitates the top layer of your eye?” Annabeth questioned.

“Essentially, yes.” He was hesitant to tell them that contacts were not a part of him, and were in fact, a foreign object. How would they react to the fact that he was actually terribly nearsighted and had to physically put pieces of flexible plastic in his eye orifices to see?

“Fascinating,” she nodded, as if agreeing with the new information. “Disgusting, but fascinating.”

[sanchosammy]

oh shoot! sorry i’m dumb HA! it was the general section but if it could be a lil more angsty thatd be amazing! sorry again!

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! You were my first request so I’m very excited for this. I hope you don’t mind but all of my fanfics have a happy ending. I did make this angsty until the very end, I hope you like it!

Word Count: 1,988

Warnings: Angst, some lies? Nothing really here to worry about!

Prompt: “I won’t hurt you.” & “Are they really ‘just a friend’?”

Requested by: Anon

You followed close behind him as you strolled through the planet’s market. Throughout your partnership with the Mandalorian, you’ve become like his shadow. That’s how he liked it though, you’re always close by and safe under his watch. 

It wasn’t difficult to be a partner to the man you’ve come to know over several months, but it was a confusing relationship nonetheless. 

It’s hard not to fall for a man who has saved your life countless times before. It did feel a little foolish to love someone who you’ve never seen without a helmet. That didn’t stop you from becoming fond of him though, but the relationship had never been officially talked about.

Din had taught you so much over time. You hadn’t shot a blaster before until Din required you to learn in case something ever happened, that was a part of his agreement if you were to stay by his side to raise the child.

Some may not believe it because of his cold exterior, but he was a careful man. He never wanted to place you in a position where you’d find yourself uncomfortable by his actions, and so he treaded lightly in his ways with you.

He was not familiar with friendships that he had to maintain each day, which is the reason Din attempted to show his care for you in small subtle ways. Like the time he came home with a new pair of boots for you and left them on your cot without a word. No comment on why he did so, but he was satisfied with himself when he saw you wearing them everyday afterwards.

You stepped forward to his side instead of following behind him, looking over at him as you asked.“Do you think we could stop somewhere to eat this time?”

His helmet turned towards you in acknowledgment of the conversation, a pause of silence before he responded. He hated to stop anywhere and always had. He couldn’t enjoy a meal publicly, so there was never a reason for him to stay in a place longer than necessary. However, he had to make compromises when it came to you and the child.

“Yeah, I know a place here.” He finally agreed.

You found yourself in a little spot no less than ten minutes later. Normally, Din would handle business nearby if you were enjoying a meal safely tucked away in a corner somewhere, but he had no bounty to hunt today.

The bone broth was hot and fresh when it was served. The smell filling your nose, a reminder of how far you’ve walked throughout the day to create such an appetite. You didn’t mind the silence from Din as he waited beside you while you enjoyed your meal. It was normal in your routine together to be in a comfortable silence.

“Excuse me… Din?” A woman caught the attention of both you and him.  You awkwardly looked at her mid-slirp of the dish.

Your mind finally processed what she said.  It wouldn’t have been weird that she knew Mando, but no, she said Din. A name that felt almost too intimate to say outside of the Razor Crest. You learned of his birth name one quiet night under the stars.

He looked at her at the same time as you. No emotion was shown through the visor of his helmet, but you watched the way his body stiffened at the sight of the beautiful woman in front of you. And that was confirmation enough that he must know her after all.

“Rann?” He responded, seeming as shocked as her by the encounter. 

“I can’t believe you’re here…” Hurt flashed across her face momentarily before she brushed it off and continued. “What are you doing back?”

“I needed supplies.” His comment is simple and short. Much like Mando with everyone.

It appeared the both of them forgot you were sitting at the table before her eyes trailed towards you. She cleared her throat awkwardly with her hand out to shake yours. “I’m Rann… And you are?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but the way she said it rubbed you the wrong way instantly. You put on a smile and shook her hand, “(Y/N), Din’s partner.”

She looked between you and Mando, an uncomfortable energy surrounded all three of you as no one knew where to go next. Her shoulders straightened and she stepped back, her eyes solely on the man in armor. 

“Well, consider coming to see me sometime, alright?” She left him with a soft smile on her face, and then she was out the door.

You found yourself watching Din. His silence that was once comforting now brought in some uneasiness for you. That was weird, right? And since when did Din start telling others of his name? You thought to yourself. They seemed to know each other a little too well. 

“How do you know her?” You couldn’t catch yourself from asking, the words falling past your lips as the worry increased in your face.

This time his helmet didn’t turn. His view remained locked in the direction of where she once was. His hand stiff on the table and he was uncomfortably sat in the chair. No longer attempting to relax in his spot like he usually would with you.

“An old friend.” He comments. His voice that once made you melt now seemed to bring a feeling of queasiness instead. You knew something wasn’t right here, and it was only a matter of time that you found out.

+

You stirred awake without a reason. The Razor Crest wasn’t moving, which meant you never left the planet like planned before. Your heart screamed at you that this wasn’t right and there was something to be concerned about. You could feel a form of adrenaline shooting through you and you had no reason to be this anxious.

Your feet touched the cold metal of the ship. Now out of your cot, you noticed Din nowhere to be found. It’s a ship, there aren't many places to disappear to after all. The door sealed shut with the lock activated and nobody but you and the child left inside. 

That was a relief, at least you knew he was where he was supposed to be. Safe and sound asleep in his little closed off spot. Tucked away from the dangers in the world, how it should be for a child.

Though the nervousness didn’t fade in the slightest. Din was nowhere to be seen, and he had never left without telling you before. This isn’t who he is and that wasn’t how your relationship worked. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the door opening now. He seemed just as surprised to see you awake as he entered from the outside.

“You’re awake.” He comments, his voice quiet and reserved. As if he wasn’t a personal friend of yours. You nearly shivered at the coldness of his tone.

“Yeah… You left?” You asked cautiously. Why did you feel the need to walk on eggshells suddenly?

“Yes,” He said as if that was the end of his answer. No hint of him willing to provide any other information. Din has always been a man who kept to himself but this was ridiculous and out of left field.

He walked past you and attempted to ignore your heavy watch on him. Heavy guilt weighed on his shoulder and started to eat away at him slowly.

It’s hard to listen to your gut feeling when it is telling you everything you don’t want to hear. It’s much easier to pretend you didn’t notice that small voice telling you the unmistakable truth. However, you weren’t one to choose easy paths anyway.

You found the confidence to ask the question even if you dreaded it. “Where were you tonight?”

He paused at the ladder in front of him. Din could’ve ignored the question and climbed into the cockpit without a word, but he couldn’t be that cruel to you. However, he still couldn’t find it within himself to answer the question. He knew he could’ve easily lied of his whereabouts, what proof would you have against him in doing so? Even then he couldn’t bring himself to do it though so he remained silent instead.

You looked across the room now. Your stare remained firm from afar even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the visor. The both of you held eye contact for a moment.

Much like earlier in the day, a familiar sickened feeling washed over you again. This time with a more certainty behind it. A small saddened laugh left your lips, a sound brought out as your body attempted to not break down in stress. You knew where he was deep down and every part of you screamed her name as the answer. Her face flashed through your mind and her voice repeating the name she introduced herself as earlier. Runn.

“With her?” You smiled, a soft smile at him. A smile forced on your face, though not by choice, but by survival.

His silence shouldn’t have been an answer and somehow it was. When he looked away from you, it was an answer enough. Jealousy was a stupid emotion to cry over but jealousy brought something much worse with it, and that would be the devastating feeling of heartbreak.

“Are they really ‘just a friend’?” You chewed on your lip for a second to gather up the courage to continue. Your voice quivered as you did so “She was something more, wasn’t she?”

You didn’t want to continue this conversation that was clearly one-sided. You shook your head as you turned around back to the cot. His quiet ways were speaking for him and it wasn’t doing him any justice in the matter. 

Footsteps followed behind as his softened tone called out your name once.

“No!” You nearly screamed, your emotions getting the better of you. “No, I’m not doing this. You see who you want and do what you want because I’m done.” 

He watched carefully at your outburst. What could he say to make this better?

“I take care of you, I spend all my time with you and the child, and I’m not the one you choose? Maybe I shouldn’t be here because all you bring is pain, Din.” You speak full of bitterness towards him.

“I thought I wanted her,” His voice finally caught up with his thoughts. He had blurted out the words, but they remained sure. He continued now that you watched him with an unsure and hurt expression. “I thought I wanted her. That’s why I went to see her, but I was wrong.”

You looked away from him, “What do you want, Din?”

“You.” 

He walked the few steps to stand in front of you. Emotions weren’t his strong strong-suit. It was probably the only thing he found himself struggling in, but he continued in an attempt to save the only thing he needed in life. 

“I’ve messed up, but I know now that I need you. This won’t happen again, I won’t hurt you again.”

You looked at him. For once you wished you could see behind the helmet. To know what he looked like in his confession. To know if he was speaking the truth, and that he wanted you over everyone he could choose from in the galaxy. Instead you leaned into his arms to feel them wrap around you without hesitation, a small squeeze that provided a comfort you didn’t know you could feel from such a simple action.

In the sudden high of your embrace, the words that he only meant to think to himself had slipped out instead. In a quiet voice that caught you off guard, you heard the words “I’m sorry it has taken me this long to realize I love you.”

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Five: The Something In His Eyes

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,963

MASTERLIST

~

Over the next few days, you fell into a rhythm. You’d work on schoolwork remotely from your room. It was pretty easy to keep up with all the free time you had. 

So, obviously, the remaining time off was spent getting to know the enigma of a man 

that was Spencer Reid. You formed a rather strange acquaintanceship with him, not quite friends but more than a protector and protectee. The real question was who was protecting who?

You discovered many things about him, some quite apparent, others not. For example, you assumed he was very into technology as most nerdy types were. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He despised all things electronic, from e-books to computers themselves.

“Do you even own a cell phone?”

“Yes!” he insisted, driving you to work for the third day in a row. “Sure, it’s not a fancy smartphone, but I can dial numbers so much easier, anyway.” He handed you his old-school flip-phone.

“How do you text people on this thing?”

He laughed politely.

“I don’t.”

You took the time to interrogate him on the nuances of text language, something he lovingly referred to as ‘dreadfully impractical’.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

Being constantly watched wasn’t as disconcerting as you’d expected. Well, being watched by Spencer wasn’t. You pretended you didn’t notice the dark blue honda with the tinted windows following you all the way to work and parking nearby. Strange that the FBI seems to need lessons in being covert.

Fortunately, rude customers and the smell of books managed to take your mind off your current situation.

What didn’t help was having to constantly stop Spencer from rearranging all the books in the shop.

“They’re categorized by the Dewey Decimal System,” he said, disgust in his tone making you stifle a giggle. “What? Everyone knows that the Library of Congress Classification System is far superior.”

“Maybe, but my workers have memorized the Dewey Decimal System. It’s easier.”

“But it’s too vague! When you’re categorizing books you need to work from all sorts of classifications. For example . . .”

It was amazing to see how passionate he was about sorting books. You’d never met a man that didn’t just throw a novel (or, more realistically, a comic book) back anywhere on the shelf when he’d finished it. Spencer treated each book like a separate piece of artwork, carefully placing them back in the correct spot without fail. He’d run his hands over the leather bound covers, caressing them as delicately as possible. You couldn’t help but notice the swiftness and gracefulness at which his hands moved.

“You okay?” you snapped out of your stupor and found him standing much closer, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Yes, ahem, sorry. I need to get back to work.”

Quickly, you walked back over to the front desk, starting to update the book index.

Maybe I should have requested Emily as my protector, you thought to yourself, dusting off a returned copy of Fahrenheit 451. Spencer was super nice and a huge dork. Maybe that was the problem. It was easy to start to think of him as a friend rather than someone just doing his job. Maybe if you’d met under different circumstances you might have been . . . friends. 

But that wasn’t the case. Spencer was there to protect you. Any teasing or joking around was just a formality. But why did he have to be so damn enticing?

Around nine o’clock, customers started to peter out. Soon, the only people left in the shop were you, Caleb, your co-worker, and Spencer, who’d been sitting on the window sill reading book after book.

“Hey, I’m gonna clock out,” Caleb said, stripping out of his work shirt. God, that man took any excuse to take his shirt off. You didn’t blame him all that much. D.C, even in the dead of winter, was hot as hell. And when you had a chest like that, one couldn’t be blamed for showing it off.

“Okay, be in tomorrow at ten. I don’t trust Claire to come in on time.”

“No prob,” he waltzed out the front door into the illuminated street, the bell tinkling lightly.

You stood and stretched, glancing over to the windowsill Spencer had been sitting in.

Shocked, you saw Spencer exactly where he’d been about an hour ago, slumped up on the windowsill, fast asleep, using a book as a pillow.

Strange, though it was, that this man was an FBI agent, you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of him sacked out like a toddler.

“Spencer?” you hated to disturb him but you knew that he’d want you to wake him up. “Spencer, wake up.”

He moaned uncomfortably and stretched, jumper lifting up slightly to expose his lean stomach. It took all the self control you had not to stare.

“Whasitgonon?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“You fell asleep,” you walked over to the loveseat in the center of the store and plopped down, sighing.

“Oh god. Sorry,” he stood, shaking himself awake and walking over to you, staring at the pile of books he’d devoured. “I guess I over-exerted myself.”

You scoffed. 

“Oh, come on. I thought you were a genius,” you teased, tossing a pillow at him.

With a little fumble, he caught it and sat down next to you, smiling.

“Yeah, but after a night of restlessness, anyone’s an idiot.” 

He said it with a sad smile, looking straight ahead. You decided not to ask about the restlessness.

“‘Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, and where care lodges—“

“—sleep will never lie,’” Spencer finished the quote for you. “Shakespeare.”

Without thinking, you looked at him, shocked to find he was already looking at you. There was something behind his eyes that made you freeze. Something curious. 

And suddenly, in that moment, that split second, something shifted. You knew it and Spencer did too. You could tell by the sudden dilation of his eyes and the sharp intake of breath he let slip.

He recognized his mistake and broke eye contact, glancing away and clearing his throat.

“What, uh, what time is it?” he said, looking for a clock while nonchalantly moving farther away on the loveseat.

“Nearly eleven,” you said, glancing at the grandfather clock, smiling at the fact he didn’t wear a watch. Why is that so endearing? “We can leave now if you like?” You grabbed your purse and started locking up.

“Isn’t it closing time?” 

“Well, usually customers stop coming in at around ten, but we close officially at eleven.”

“Then why stay? Why not just leave at ten?”

“I guess I like to think that if someone has a book emergency, it’s comforting to know that I’m here.”

You blushed. You’d never really told anyone that. Claire and Caleb probably had no idea that you stayed as late as you did. What was it that made you tell Spencer?

He hadn’t said anything so you looked at him.

The darkness of the shop made it so you could only see his silhouette. A tall figure against the light of the street lamps, he was poised and solid, staring out into the empty street. 

“Spencer?”

“Get behind me,” his tone scared you. He spoke with urgency and you could see his hand on his hip where he’d concealed his gun.

Without hesitation, you stepped behind a bookshelf, slightly peeking around it so you could see what he was doing.

He moved like a shadow, slipping out of the shop and moving onto the street, towards the dark blue honda down the road.

Why is he sneaking up on the undercover car?

There was a screech and the car zoomed off and Spencer leaped into a sprint, running after it.

It finally clicked in your brain and you scolded yourself for not realizing it earlier.

That wasn’t an FBI car.

Becoming quickly aware of the danger you were in, you moved from behind the bookshelf to behind the loveseat, crouching as low as you could and trying to slow your breathing.

Your breath froze in your lungs as the soft sound of the bell by the door tinkled, alerting you that someone had entered the store. You snapped your hand over your mouth.

Praying it was Spencer but not actively believing it was, you stayed silent, waiting for the person to make themselves known.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you here?”

It was Spencer.

You stood up from behind the sofa and ran to him, throwing your arms around him, hugging him tight and finally letting the tears fall from your eyes.

Feeling Spencer tense against you wasn’t the best feeling, but it was worth it for the way he melted into you after a moment, sliding his hands around your waist.

Breathing in deeply against his chest, you started to relax. His chest was harder than you’d thought. There were definitely some muscles he was keeping hidden.

Before you could enjoy the embrace too much, Spencer pulled back and looked at you.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes when you separated, but it was gone before you could analyze it, turning back to his professional demeanor.

“M-nine-L-D-G-seven,” he said robotically.

“What?” you said, removing your arms from around his neck and wiped the tears from your eyes, worrying that your brain had just short circuited.

“I got the plate but i’m sure he’ll replace it. It’s unlikely he’ll use that car again but I still need to report it.”

“I should have said something,” you murmured to yourself.

“What do you mean?” he said, whipping out his phone and typing rapidly.

“I saw the car following us earlier today. I assumed it was the protective detail.” Then, upon seeing the shocked look on his face: “I’m sorry, Spencer, I should have—“

His phone started to buzz and he answered it.

“Hotch? . . . Yeah just now. . . . Okay, I'll bring her in. . . . Yep, see you soon.”

He hung up and looked at you, a guilty expression on his face.

“I have to take you back to Quantico — uh — headquarters.”

“Okay.”

You stayed quiet the whole car ride. Spencer kept looking over at you, trying to be casual. Nothing felt casual. The way he held you in the bookstore wasn’t casual. The way he ran after a speeding car to protect you wasn’t casual. The way he’d stared into your eyes not long ago was . . . well, something, but not casual. You weren’t quite ready to explore that something yet. 

The ride up in the elevator to the BAU was dead silent. Another instance where elevator music would come in handy. 

Your reflection in the elevator doors was strange. Alien. It wasn’t you. It was as though a ghost was in your body, keeping you upright as you watched from behind your eyes, unable to do anything. It was terrifying.

Then, warmth flooded your hand, Spencer’s fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing gently.

Without turning your head, you glanced at his reflection. He was staring straight ahead, no expression, but his thumb was drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Before the doors opened and Spencer’s hand slipped out of yours, you caught a glimpse of yourself again in the reflection, only for a split second. It was still not a you that you’d ever seen before, but for an entirely different reason. There wasn’t fear or worry in your eyes, but something more. The same something you’d seen earlier in the bookstore in Spencer’s. 

Stepping out of the elevator and into the bullpen, you found yourself wondering when this would all be over with.

And definitely, totally, not wishing it might never end.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup

[merakiui]

Hi sorry if I’m bothering but I was just wondering if you had any general headcannons for Nine or the rest of Noctu? Love your writing by the way❤️❤️.

Noctu General HCs (Aitachi, Kirr, Nine, and Day)

🎯 Aitachi 🎯

He’s always training because he wants to become a stronger Soul Reaper. His main motivation for that is you, his encouraging Manager.

Aitachi likes to train alongside you and Kirr. The three of you make a great team and whenever you seem to grow tired he’ll be there with a cold bottle of water and some healthy snacks to revive your energy.

He won’t admit it, but he tends to get embarrassed when he struggles to interact with modern technology properly. He usually learns from the others how to operate his SNS, but he seems to actually listen when he’s getting pointers from you.

He’s Kirr’s hunting buddy. The two of them probably fish together and they’d be happy to go camping with everyone if it’s brought up.

Introduce him to modern television and he’ll fall in love with all of those survival shows. The more outdoorsy, the better!

Aitachi likes to tell you stories of his tribe. If you ask, he’ll be so happy, proudly explaining more about his coming-of-age ceremony and what it’s like to experience life in his tribe.

He’s very awkward with modern language and will often talk in a stiff manner, sometimes using phrases that are commonly spoken within his tribe.

Despite his age and height, he is quite knowledgeable when it comes to survival and the outside world. Although there are many changes he is unfamiliar with, which is usually the always-updating types of technology.

Aitachi struggles to navigate the Internet and sometimes he ends up on the strangest sites with no qualms as to how he got there in the first place. One minute he’s trying to search up images of the land where his tribe lived and now he’s on a website that’s listing nearby properties for sale.

Autocorrect is his enemy and he can never fully wrap his head around those virtual helpers (Alexa, Siri, Cortana, etc.).

🏹 Kirr 🏹

Aitachi is his best friend and closest ally when it comes to anything and everything. He’s eternally grateful to have someone who understands as much about hunting and survival as he does, especially when he feels so lost in the modern world.

Kirr is probably more accustomed to the modern world than Aitachi is, but there are still moments where he struggles to keep up.

He loves to go on nature walks with the manager, but his favorite outing would have to be hunting with them. If they’re not a fan of that, he doesn’t mind a simple stroll through the woods.

He does not understand many jokes, especially those that use Internet slang or texting lingo. He’s especially confused about words like ‘simp’ and ‘pog.’

Kirr definitely enjoys wildlife shows just like Aitachi, but his favorites are usually about how animals hunt. There’s always a glimmer of intrigue in those quiet eyes when he watches a lion stalking its prey.

He’s not the best at communication and will sometimes say something that may give off the wrong impression or cause a misunderstanding. But for the sake of the manager, he wants to always try his best to improve these aspects of himself.

He does not understand flirting at all. Like jokes and the modern world, Kirr has trouble adjusting to these lighthearted tones. If the manager ever flirts with him, it’s usually one-sided and he always appears confused.

Most of the time he’ll accept whatever it is you’re telling him, especially if it’s meant to be nice. But he won’t flirt back or say anything that’s supposed to be funny because he just doesn’t understand it.

If you’re someone who likes puns and jokes, he’ll probably want to learn a little more, if only to understand you whenever you start to joke with him.

He may be serious and not at all as talkative as the other Reapers, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy. He’s just confused, but he’s got the spirit!

🎼 Nine 🎼

Nine is always so graceful and polite, which makes him quite the persuasive Reaper. He often finds ways to get Day to do things for him and most of it is under an innocent pretense.

Despite what some may think, he does genuinely care for those he manages to get close to. He trusts the manager and Day the most, but there are still things he won’t tell them.

He’s very good at avoiding conversations that make him uncomfortable and he won’t usually tell someone if they’re crossing a line of discomfort. He’ll just calmly redirect the conversation.

Nine probably enjoys classic literature and poetry from older time periods. He likes to compare it to today’s writing to see what has changed.

He also enjoys classical music of all sorts and will try to replicate his own versions in unique compositions. Music theory and the history of music are topics that also intrigue him, and he likes to pore over information related to that in hopes of learning more to improve his own skills.

Nine’s the type of Reaper you can rant to if you’re ever feeling down, but don’t expect him to vent about own troubles in return. He’ll comfort you to an extent, but it still seems like he’s reserved.

He likes all things peaceful: melodic piano music, zen gardens, calligraphy, and even simple poetry. He would definitely enjoy stargazing because it’s such a calming activity.

There are days when Nine’s lazy side shows and as a result of this he’ll get Day to do his tasks for him. He’s very clever when it comes to slipping away from patrols and Day’s often left with two times the amount of work.

Nine hides most of his true feelings behind a passive smile and only ever vents through his compositions, which he only shows to those he truly values.

He is surprisingly good at reading the atmosphere in a room and knows how to quell an uncomfortable mood.

🍦 Day 🍦

You’ll never see him sad unless it’s something truly serious and dire. Day is always a constant ray of sunshine like Ell.

He’s very carefree and casual, wanting to be friends with everyone in the 14th Department. Once he believes he’s made friends with someone, he’ll be willing to do anything for that person.

Day is like a huge puppy. He gets excited easily and loves being around people. There’s never a dull moment with him.

He loves to bake with Nine and the manager, as they are his two favorite people in the whole world. Day often feels incomplete without them by his side and he loves to help them whenever he gets the chance.

Day doesn’t like to see the bad sides in people and will focus on their positive qualities instead. He believes that everyone can get along if there’s a happy environment and good food!

He’ll get upset if he finds that his Soul Reapers aren’t getting along and will even cry if anyone acts particularly mean towards him or his friends.

Day loves emoticons, especially the cute and happy ones. He feels like he can fully express himself with a few emojis and he’s probably the type to spam text messages, most of which aren’t actually coherent sentences but just strings of emojis.

Another thing he loves about the manager is when they help him when he’s in distress! Sometimes he’ll trip if he’s running too fast and as much as the injury may hurt everything feels better the minute his manager bandages it. He’ll be even happier if they pretend to kiss it, promising that it’s a charm for faster healing.

When he’s with Kati, chaos and trouble ensues, as the both of them are far too energetic to contain.

He wants to try making his own ice cream with Nine and the manager, but he can never wrap his head around the process.

[havenoffandoms]

Sweeter Than You (Eskel/Lambert, Modern AU)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses prompt list.

Prompt: "A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating."

Pairing: Eskel/Lambert

Content Warning: Modern AU (lawyer Lambert, baker Eskel), implied sexual content at the end of the chapter (nothing graphic)

Read on AO3.

Lambert has had the shittiest day at work. 

First, he got stuck in downtown Novigrad traffic even though his traffic app told him that the roads were all clear, which in turn made him late for his 9am meeting. Real professional, great first impression. His client was understanding about the situation, but Lambert hates being late, especially when he’s trying to score new clients for his firm. The meeting went well despite his tardiness, and Lambert is convinced he’ll get the case settled in no time, but his day just kept getting shittier and shittier. He ended up spilling hot coffee on his brand new suit and the only spare he kept at the office was slightly too snug when he put it on. Great, he apparently put on weight, too. That has to be Eskel’s fault, what with all the treats he bakes for Lambert at the weekend. 

If the day wasn’t bad enough, Lambert’s car broke down on his way to lunch with an important client. It took the tow-truck a whole hour to get to him, which meant that Lambert had to cancel on his client and lose out on a potential settlement agreement. To add insult to injury, the sandwich Lambert ended up buying from a nearby bakery tasted of ass. Though admittedly Lambert’s taste buds have considerably developed since he started dating Eskel, because the man is a literal genius in the kitchen. Lambert can’t eat generic sandwiches anymore without comparing them to Eskel’s creations. 

When the tow-truck finally showed up, Lambert decided to call time of death on this generally miserable day. He called his secretary and told her to clear his diary for the day, which he knew that Essi would pull off. She’s hands down the best secretary in the whole of Novigrad, in Lambert’s eyes anyway, and well worth the considerable salary he pays her each month. After calling Essi, Lambert hailed down a taxi only to find that he left his wallet in his car, which was now being towed away to the nearest garage. Great. Just fantastic. 

Fuck this shit, fuck his car, fuck his job, and fuck the entire universe. 

Lambert just starts walking without a clear destination in mind. His suit is too tight and uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to care as he tries to work off the anxious energy bubbling in his chest. He wants to scream, or punch something, whatever yields the most satisfaction. Why is the world against him today? What did he do to deserve this? Lambert considers dialling Eskel, but he knows that his boyfriend won’t be able to hear the phone if he’s at work.

Oh, wait a second. 

Lambert looks around for the first time since storming off and he quickly realises that he’s not actually too far away from Eskel’s shop. The thought brightens his mood a little - if Lambert’s not able to go home and hide away from the world, at least he can spend the afternoon helping his boyfriend out in the bakery. Or just wait until Eskel has a minute to spare so Lambert can hug out all his frustrations in the backroom… or do other things in Eskel’s office. With a renewed spring in his step, Lambert makes haste towards Eskel’s shop. 

It doesn't take long for him to reach Lil Titbits, a quaint-looking shop just off the main street of Novigrad's business centre. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but Lambert knows just how hard Eskel worked to make the inside of his shop as inviting and cosy as humanly possible. As soon as Lambert steps inside the bakery, the heavenly smell of warm baked bread and freshly made coffee invades his nostrils. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend like he’s stepping inside his and Eskel’s home rather than his boyfriend’s shop. 

The little bell above the door chimes loudly, announcing his presence. Lambert instantly notices that the place is quiet - which is not unusual for a Wednesday afternoon, when most of Eskel’s customers are still either at work or at school. Lambert notices an elderly couple sitting in the booth by the window, enjoying a generous slice of lemon-meringue pie - oh fuck, Lambert loves Eskel’s lemon-meringue pies - between themselves. Lambert can’t fathom why anyone would share a slice of pie that good, especially since Eskel’s creations are by far the best fucking thing Lambert’s ever tasted. People are weird. 

Apart from those two customers, the place is empty. It doesn’t take long for Eskel to appear behind the counter, wearing his favourite apron, the one that reads “They Call Me Darth Baker” written in a white font on the black fabric. Geralt, Eskel’s brother, bought him that apron for Christmas, but Lambert never thought Eskel would actually wear it at work, for every customer to see, but that’s Eskel for you. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about what people think of him. Lambert has always admired that about him. 

“Hey babe,” Eskel greets him, his smile bright enough to rival the moon, stars, and the fucking sun.  The deep baritone of his boyfriend’s voice washes over Lambert in calming waves. “Bit early for you to be here. Everything alright?” 

Lambert’s legs move of their own volition, and before he knows it, he’s behind the counter burying himself in the warmth and safety of Eskel’s arms. “I am now,” he breathes, his tone just on that side of pouty, before rubbing his cheek against Eskel’s nerdy apron. He doesn’t give a shit if the customers at the back of the shop see them, nor does he care if he ends up with flour in his beard. He needs this, needs to feel Eskel close, because today’s been a shitty day and the only person who can make it better is his boyfriend. 

“Oh sweetheart, what’s up?” Eskel asks, his voice soft and reassuring like he’s talking to a spooked animal. Lambert only tightens his hold around Eskel, not ready to break the sweetness of the moment by reminiscing about his not-so-good-very-bad day. “Wanna move through to the kitchen?” 

That, in fact, sounds like a great fucking idea. Lambert almost whines when Eskel pulls away from him, but the urge quickly fades when Eskel laces their fingers together and drags Lambert through the back by the hand. Once they have regained a semblance of privacy, Lambert lets Eskel pull him into another soul-crushing hug. 

“I hate everything. And everyone. Well no, not everyone. I don’t hate you.”

“Mmh, good to know,” Eskel rumbles, sounding amused, “what happened, puppy?”

Lambert buries deeper in Eskel’s embrace as he replies, his words slightly muffled by the fabric of Eskel’s apron. 

“Got stuck in traffic this morning, then was late for my meeting, spilt coffee on my suit, my car broke down, I missed lunch with a potential client who’s worth a buttload of money, and I’m getting fat,” Lambert ends, his tone decidedly whiny when he’s reminded of just how snug his emergency suit feels. Damn Eskel and his ridiculously good treats. 

“Naw, hell Lamb,” Eskel shifts and grabs something resting on the working surface behind him. When Lambert looks up, he sees Eskel holding what looks to be a lemon and white chocolate muffin inches away from Lambert’s face. “Open up! My baking always cheers you up.” 

“Your baking is the reason why I’m getting fat!” Lambert grouses half-heartedly, his tongue poking out from between his lips to lick at the buttercream frosting covering the top of the muffin. “Mmmh, white chocolate! I knew it.” 

“Was gonna save it for you to celebrate your new client. Guess it can also be used as a consolatory muffin,” Eskel brings the treat closer to Lambert’s lips and offers a small, encouraging smile, “c’mon, take a bite. I promise you’ll feel better.” 

Lambert can’t resist Eskel’s pretty eyes anyway, so he happily lets his boyfriend feed him the muffin. Lambert takes a huge chunk out, the white chocolate and lemon flavours exploding on his tongue pulling an appreciative moan. Lambert’s eyes flutter shut as he savours his morsel, and when he opens them again, he sees Eskel’s smile has widened into a pleased grin. 

“Good?” he asks, like there’s any fucking doubt about how good his muffin tastes. 

“As always,” Lambert whispers in response, snatching the muffin out of Eskel’s hand and stuffing what’s left of it in his mouth. Eskel levels him with an unimpressed look, clicking his tongue in disapproval at his boyfriend’s actions. 

“You’re gonna choke one of these days,” Eskel tells him, trying not to laugh as Lambert tries to chew around the massive bite in his mouth, “look at your lil hamster cheeks. Adorable.” 

Lambert glares - the full effect of his scowl is probably lost on Eskel, though, with how Lambert is still struggling to swallow his treat - but the intention is there. Eskel shakes his head fondly before leaning in and catching Lambert’s lips in a chaste kiss which probably tastes sweet and lemony, but Eskel doesn’t seem to mind the taste of his dessert on Lambert’s lips. It takes Lambert a little while to swallow the food in his mouth, but when he does, he puckers his lips in a silent request for more of Eskel’s sweet kisses. 

“Yes?” Eskel teases, raising one eyebrow, “can I help you?” 

Lambert’s lower lip juts out into a sad pout at those words, an action that pulls a warm chuckle from deep within Eskel’s chest. He takes pity on Lambert and pulls him impossibly closer to his firm body, rubbing his nose against Lambert’s in a tender gesture. Lambert’s hands come to rest on Eskel’s hips, where he squeezes the soft flesh of his boyfriend’s puppy fat. Gods, but he loves absolutely everything about Eskel. 

“Can you close the shop early today and take me home?” Lambert asks, voice barely above a whisper, as he stretches up to capture Eskel’s mouth in a demanding kiss that leaves very little as to which kind of activity Lambert has in mind for their evening together. His hand squeezes Eskel’s hip more firmly, pulling a needy whine from his boyfriend in response.

“Minx,” Eskel growls under his breath, punctuating his statement with a final kiss, “I’ll see what I can do.”

As Eskel walks away, Lambert doesn’t miss the way his boyfriend has to readjust his pants which are now tenting at the front. Lambert leans back against the worktop of Eskel’s baking table, and first undoes the buttons of his suit jacket, then the top three buttons of his shirt. He, unlike Eskel, isn’t trying to hide the visible bulge forming in his far too tight pants, dammit. 

“You do what you have to do, sweetheart,” Lambert speaks in a sultry tone, the irritation brought on by a rather shitty start to the day long forgotten when he meets Eskel’s lust-blown eyes, “I’ll be right here, looking like a goddamn snack for you the whole time.” 

Eskel curses under his breath, pointedly looking away from Lambert. 

“Bastard. You just wait until we get home,” Eskel threatens half-heartedly before leaving the kitchen to empty the showcases and store the pastries in the refrigerators on the main shop floor. Lambert feels positively giddy with anticipation at the thought of how him and Eskel will spend the rest of the evening. 

Lambert’s day, in spite of everything, doesn’t seem so shitty in the end, not when he’s got Eskel to come home to. 

[delicrieux]

queens, half past ten | p.p.

pairing: peter parker (as spiderman) x reader

summary: walking home alone at night is terrifying with your phone being dead, but, heh, spiderman is on patrol and you’re really craving starbucks.

warnings: nothing! fluff and pinning only xx

words: 2.2k

author’s note: this is part of my social media au BE MY VALENTINE! but it can also be read as a standalone fic!!

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕. previous. next.

heading home from a concert under normal circumstances would be an adventure-esque movie/music clip where you’d listen to music and stare longingly out the window and into the shadow shrouded streets, faraway blinking lights from either cars or buildings. you’d imagine what it would be like to be a lead singer, or a drummer, or better yet the guitarist, and what all of that would entail. how you’d perform and smile and scream the lyrics along with adoring fans, how you’d get free drinks (when you’re legal), and how you’d have many bowie-esque backstage shenanigans.

alas, your phone is dead and you are stuck in confining silence, with nothing but the occasional whine of a passing car making you jump. the night is cold; smoke leaves your lips with each breath and you are eerily aware how loud your breathing is. the streets are bare —work night, no one really hangs around this late — and you feel like the only person in the world, but in a bad way. normally you’d call mj or jess and chat away about your experience at the concert, smile so hard your cheeks would hurt. now you hurry down the streets, itching to get home as soon as possible. not safe. pepper spray is grasped inside your pocket, but knowing you, if an attack (god forbid!) would happen, you’d probably spray yourself in the face and be doomed for. how did you forget to charge your phone? your friends must be worried sick. your mom would probably be too, if it wasn’t for the fact that you told her your at mj’s and she thinks you’re eating snacks and gossiping at the moment. instead you’re walking home alone with no means of communication. oh my god, no one would even be able to find you if you disappeared.

scaring yourself to death won’t help, nor make the walk shorter, or so you concluded. alas, you can’t help being on edge. if you saw a person now you’d probably burst into tears.

worst fears come true. the night had been amazing but it seems that everything is going downhill when you pass a pub. some loiter next to the door and smoke, their eyes trailing you as you walk past. bad bad bad. not everyone is evil, but you never know! being a girl is hard enough without the crushing fear of going home alone. you quickly disappear around a corner, sharp turn, you’re really working up a sweat by walking so quickly. the worst has passed, you think, sighing.

then someone has the fucking nerve to whistle at you. you thought this only happens in movies, but no, reality is just as cruel. you keep your head down and pick up the pace, but before much else—

“hey!” you jump and snap your head to a nearby lamppost, eyes wide in horror, heart hammering in your chest, but relax once you see it’s just spiderman. he gives an awkward wave, sitting quite comfortably on the lamp, legs swinging, as if he’s bored. staring as him, you uncertainly wave back, “sorry, i didn't mean to scare you.” he says, his voice deep and strange and somehow familiar. “i just uhh— heard those guys whistle at you and figured you’d appreciate the company. not safe in this part of town.”

you really don’t know what to say as he makes his way down to stand beside you. you hadn’t prepared to meet a superhero tonight, and certainly not one you had been actively stalking on social media for a better part of the year. oh my god. he’s really next to you, isn’t he? had he noticed you liking all of his posts? dear god, you hope not. suddenly rooted in spot, breath spent, cheeks aflame, you are thankful it’s so dark outside.

“i’m uhhh spiderman.” he introduces.

you manage to give him a shy smile, “...hi.”

mj will freak when she hears this. you will too once you process what’s happening. worlds are colliding in your very eyes. you have a hopeless crush on him, though now... is it really that hopeless? it’s fate. you don’t believe in fate, but any other explanation escapes you. he awkwardly mutters for you to lead the way and you two fall into pace. yet you don’t feel much calmer, rather now you’re nervous, but in a good way. you trust him. instantly. there is something familiar about his stance, his demeanor, yet you can’t quite place it. you wonder what he looks like behind his mask and sneak a glance at him. there is no way to tell. but your guess? hm... couldn’t be anyone like timothee chalamet, spiderman has some bulk on him. evan peters? maybe, but the aura doesn't quite fit. ross lynch?

you glance at him again, smiling to yourself a little. could be like ross lynch — brown hair, kind eyes —...what if it is ross lynch? can’t be that far of a stretch, most superheroes are hot (you’ve seen captain marvel, or just, as most dub her, god). but if it really is, you’ll faint.

you quickly fix your hair, somewhat self-conscious. you must look a mess right now. how will he fall in love with you when you’re all red and sweaty?

“so... what have you been up to?” he asks. he’s interested. good start. you have to swallow down a manic giggle.

“i went to this concert with my friend.” you say, a bit breathless, “it was so, so much fun, i just forgot to charge my phone so...” you tilt your head to him, flash him your most lovely smile, “i’m glad you showed up.”

“just uhhh—“ he fumbles, “doing my job! yes.”

“i know you’re like super busy—“ you continue shyly, hooking a strand of hair behind your ear (you are too good at this. if it wasn’t love at first sight, it sure as hell going to be at second), “—fighting crime, saving people... so it means a lot that you... you know... are not doing that right now to make sure i make it home safely.”

most don’t know this (with the exception of mj, that is) but you are very sly and calculating when you need to be. so you, gracefully and absolutely ‘unintentionally’, step closer to him, walking side by side, shoulders brushing. he fidgets, anxious, and you can only assume he is a bit flustered under that mask of his. your heart skips happy beats. you wonder if you whined enough would he web-sling you back to your apartment. you’ve never flown before. it must be exhilarating.

“your safety is just as important, (n—“ he promptly shuts up, swallows, then clears his throat, “uh... what’s your name, again?” you introduce yourself with another love-struck smile, “haha, i’m spiderman...” he chuckles nervously.

you lean in. he freezes. “i know.”

“so, uh, anyway, anything else i can do for you?” he wonders aloud, his voice unnaturally deep. you wonder if his throat hurts from putting all that stress on his vocal cords. alas, his identity must be kept top secret -- if it really is ross lynch, you understand that his career as a heartthrob is more important -- and so you refrain from questioning him. though, now that you think about it, you are a bit parched. power walking home really takes a lot out of the body, and you could definitely use a sugary drink. probably not the best idea, but you still have a mountain of homework, so it’s not like you’ll go to sleep once you’re actually home. 

besides, the more time you spend with this, presumably, insanely handsome superhero - the better. 

“actually...” you say with a dreamy smile, “i’d go for a drink right now. like starbucks. oh yea, definitely starbucks.” as overpriced as their coffee is, the flavor is impeccable.

spiderman is quiet for a moment, possibly considering whether to dismiss you or not, or trying to locate the nearest starbucks in the map of his mind.

lastly, “sure.” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice, “there’s one a few blocks down...i think.”

“ahh...” you nod, looking down at your shoes wistfully. no, they are not uncomfortable, actually the opposite of that. but he doesn’t know that. this is your one and only chance to see the city from a birds eye view, and there is no chance in hell you’re missing out on it. you’ll scam your way into anything. 

“are you scared of heights?” he suddenly asks.

you jerk, startled, wide-eyed, in absolute disbelieve that your cheap tricks are actually working, “...no. why?” you narrow your eyes, all suspicious and pretend like. 

he opens his arms, “well...come here.”

“what?”

“we’re taking a shortcut. will be fun, promise.” he insists. you heart roars in joy. he is so in love with you. fighting a grin, you sling your arms over his neck, and his arm snakes it’s way around your waist, pressing you close.

“just...hold on tightly.” you can barely hear him over the drum of your heartbeat. and before you can prepare - physically and mentally - you’re shot into the air, wind in your ears, adrenaline in your veins.

the city goes in vertigo and you laugh, wondrous and scared out of your wits, but excited all the same. the glimmering lights, car beeps and snippets of conversation fade into an incoherent whistle. your eyes start to water and so you shut them for a moment, before opening them again and seeing queens from so far up before your vision blurs as you race forward.

when he sets you down, you’re on shaky legs, hair a mess, smile so wide it hurts your cheeks but you can’t help it.

“that was...” you start, breathless, “so...so awesome. best uber i’ve ever had.”

“five stars?”

“i’d give you ten if it was possible.”

starbucks is up and running and unsurprisingly empty of patrons and the two of you slowly walk over, mindful of your wobbly stance. he grasps your shoulder, steadying you, and you nod at him gratefully. being the true gentleman he is, he opens the door for you with a dramatic bow, and you giggle a you enter.

“yo!” the barista, a young college student, calls, “sup, spiderman?”

“hey, george.” 

“friend of yours?” you whisper to him.

“yep. two free coffees, coming right up.” he mutters back, stalking to the counter before you can stop him. your orders are usually complicated and absolutely bizarre, but you suppose something simple for this hectic night wouldn't be that bad--

your mouth falls open when he says the exact order of your favorite drink. word for word. even the pronunciation is similar. and for himself he picks peter’s go-to. the barista, you suppose calling him george would be appropriate, nods and goes to fix your drinks. you wander to spiderman, blushing.

“how...did you know my favorite order?” you pipe up.

“oh-uh... i’m good at reading people.” he explains quickly, “it’s uhh--...part of my superpower.”

“wow, that’s awesome, wish i had powers.” you say, “actually, you ordered peter’s fav.” you admit, “oh! uh, peter’s my friend.”

“he sounds like a really cool dude.”

“you...don’t know anything about him?”

“uh...it’s the name. peter’s a strong name. for a...strong cool guy.”

“he’s kind of a dork, to be honest.” you mutter with a soft smile, “but he’s really sweet.”

“so...you like him?”

“‘course i like him!” you say, just as george announces your drinks are ready, “he’s my friend.” you finish, quickly maneuvering past him to get your coffee.

“right...friend...”

there was a mutual agreement to walk back, since neither of you wanted to risk spilling your drinks on unknowing townies or yourselves. to your surprise, he had lifted his mask up, just a bit, to expose his jaw and lips and to sip his delicious drink. and yes, you might have stared excessively and shamelessly, and yes, you were almost convinced it was ross lynch himself walking you home, and yes, the urge to kiss him for this fantastic date came in waves. one moment you wanted to throw your arms around him and taste the coffee drops on his lips, but the next you recoiled and re-thought your approach. alas, your street came into view all too quick.

you stop, and so does he, and with a somewhat sad smile, you say, “well, i won’t keep you any longer. there’s probably a robbery happening or something, and i’m...” you turn away, see your apartment complex looming, “home.”

“uh—yea, totally.” he nods, “uhm...it was a pleasure to meet you, (name). i had fun.”

now or never.

instead of giving him some lame, forgettable goodbye, you throw your arms around him and squeeze tightly, smiling into his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you loosely, stiffly, as if uncertain whether it’s the right thing to do or not.  blushed like a rose, you tilt your head and land a soft kiss on the side of his lips, “that’s for good luck.” you murmur, smiling deliriously, lastly pulling a way and waving, “and for the record, i had fun too.”

he says nothing, too stunned to move.

you, in the elevator, your dead phone grasped in your hand, feeling like your heart might bust out of your chest, and he, sitting on a roof of a nearby building, watching, waiting for the light in your room to turn on as an indication that you’re finally safe, mutter: “holy shit.”

tags(i wasn’t able to tag the italicized!): @toospicy-peppermint​ - @badbitsh13​ - @hotshot-deserves-more-love​ - @bitcheekun​ - @songofcosplay​ - @magical-spit​ - @stxrtreatment​ - @kxssiewrites​ - @captain-lovemeplease - @myangelarcade​ - @goldenrunaway​

[symphonicspecter]

Subcon Family Headcanons

Have I mentioned that I LOVE the idea of Snatcher basically just adopting a hundred child spirits and all these kids hanging out in the forest and caring for each other as siblings? @birdsareblooming‘‘s post inspired me to get my butt in gear and finally write all the thoughts I have

These are going under a read more because there’s a lot

(Any time I say spirits, I mean both Dwellers and Subconites)

All those little dolls the Subconites possess? Snatcher made those. He’ll drop everything to repair them if they get damaged. He spent days making all of them early on. Some of the Dwellers just didn’t want bodies, and he respected that and let them be. He’s taught some of the Subconites how to sew, so that they can repair themselves or if they want to make modifications or clothes for themselves.

Everybody knows everybody’s names. Some of the spirits use the same names they did in life, others made up new ones. They think it’s very important to always spell and pronounce names correctly.

If an outsider makes anybody uncomfortable everyone else goes into Get His Ass Mode

The Minion/Boss relationship is mostly just for intimidation. Regularly, the spirits refer to Snatcher as “Snatcher” “Dad” , or a nickname they made up, some like how “Boss” sounds too, But when outsiders are around, he becomes ““The Boss” exclusively, and they pretend like he’s intimidating. They like taunting about eternal servitude and permanent soul removal in their idle chat. And Snatcher acts a little bossier with them. It’s all to scare whoever is currently contracted.

Snatcher is very adaptable for the spirits. Some of them are easily discouraged or self-conscious, so he speaks more softly to them and never has them talk to him in work mode. Others love to do tasks, so he gives them chores, even when nothing needs done. He knows which ones are mute, have trouble talking, are sensitive to certain words, like to rant about their interests...

Everybody is valid! When Subcon froze over and everyone became ghosts (some with memories, others without), it essentially became an opportunity to start an entirely new society. They all foster a ““you can do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt anybody”attitude. Along with choosing new names, some of the spirits wanted new pronouns. Queer? Neurodivergent? It’s all cool with the Subcon gang they will accept and validate you

Subcon Village is where the most houses are. The spirits take up residence in old houses, trees, anything that can be a cozy shelter. They mostly live close to each other, and several live together. 

Snatcher has a check-in rule...if somebody has gone unseen for several hours, it’s time to look for them. Even with everyone already dead, there are a lot of dangers in the forest. So anytime somebody plans on hiding away for a while or wandering off by themselves, they tell somebody else. They all keep tabs on each other to stay safe

One of the Subconites made Snatcher a #1 Boss mug

The Subconites get excited to show Snatcher things they’ve made/done and he always turns into Proud Boasting Dad for them

Like a Subconite could show him their drawing of a tree and he’d be like Wow That’s So Good You’re So Talented!!!!!

Some of them want to give him the things they make. He has a special little place higher up in his tree where he keeps all of it. Sometimes he just goes up there and looks through stuff

Some of the more musically inclined spirits get together to practice and play. And they’ll invite Snatcher too

Games! Whether it’s Tag or Uno or Monopoly. The kids are always playing something. Sometimes it’s a big group of dozens, other times it’s a little group of four or five. And of course, they invite Snatcher to play with them too. 

They all talk to each other so much, any news, gossips, jokes, what have you gets spread to everybody in a few hours 

Movie nights...They get a big cloth and hang it between trees for a screen, and hook up an old projector and some type of player. It could be a movie left laying around from old Subcon,or something Snatcher stole from outside. A big crowd will settle on the ground and in trees and they’ll watch one or two or five movies

Campfires! They make a fire and gather around it and tell stories. Maybe they’re scary, maybe they’re not. It could be a story made up on the spot, something from a book, something they wrote themselves..they pass stories around for hours. None of them eat but they’ll put various things on sticks just for the thrill of catching it on fire

The spirits know not to bring up Vanessa 

Most everybody knows how to deal with Snatcher in a bad mood. Whether he’s depressed or angry..after enough time they’ve learned what sets him off, when to give him space, when to give him hugs and kind words 

Hugs and cuddles galore oh my god

All the Dwellers and Subconites are like siblings and say ““I love you” all the time

Snatcher has a hard time saying or accepting the L word but that’s okay, there’s a hundred ways to show it

Snatcher will take recommendations on what tasks to put on contracts

Snatcher has a hard time saying no to any of the kids, unless he’s in a bad mood. If he says no or seems annoyed, it’s a clear sign that something is bothering him

Cuddle piles...this mostly happens amongst the Subconites but sometimes a Dweller or two joins in or some of them want to cuddle on Snatcher

Snatcher steals from people in nearby towns...In game he says he steals mail. That’s his main method of theft as it’s the easiest. He redistributes to the Subconites. They love reading gossip in mail. Even a bill can be used for an art project. The best is when he snatches packages...who knows what fun things are inside! That’s how some of them ended up with smartphones 

If Snatcher finds out that any of them want something specific, he’ll look for that when he’s out, That’s when he breaks the mail theft routine and might steal from elsewhere or con somebody into giving him whatever the item is

Besides just getting mail that Snatcher stole, the Subconites like to send each other mail. Yeah they can easily go talk to each other, but writing letters and sending packages is fun. They take their mail to Snatcher and he distributes it once a week

Snatcher absolutely will tease the kids...pretending to not understand something they’re telling him, mispronouncing the name of whatever they’re talking about, terrible puns, holding something out of reach, silly voice imitations, standard horrible dad humor

If anybody so much as looks at one of the kids wrong, Snatcher will end them

How the Subconites respond to a contractor heavily influences how Snatcher treats them...if you make friends with them, he’ll consider letting you go, but if they don’t like you...

The spirits are just as protective of Snatcher. If a contractor talks bad about Snatcher or tries to hurt him, they go into defensive mode. They’re ready to make a little plush shield around him, to kick some ass, or to check on him and tell him nice things afterwards. Or, like in game, to be his cheer squad while he does the ass kicking himself

If anybody is having a hard time you can bet the rest of the forest is saying/sending nice things to them instantly

Subcon has its own inside jokes/memes..

Several of them pitch in to decorate or host activities for holidays. Around a holiday, Subcon Village is covered in decorations. They have their own traditions, taking from what they remember from being alive, what outside towns do, and anything they think would be fun to add

They all teach each other..Snatcher taught some of them to sew, he teaches some of them about law, he’s shown a few how to play violin and cello...they teach each other about space, biology, painting, historical figures...it’s very common for them to talk about their interests and to want to learn about someone else’s

Sometimes Snatcher reads out loud for a group of spirits. He picks out books specifically for it, and then lets them pick from the collection

Every so often they plan events..maybe a bunch of them get together to write/make/perform a play, or the musicians hold a concert, or there’s open mic/creative writing readings, or dances! They always run it by Snatcher to get the okay and to get help planning/scheduling/reaching out/spreading word. There’s always a great turnout at these, with most or maybe even all of the spirits attending!

Sometimes Snatcher practices his Intro with a Subconite or two, and they give him some tips on how to be scarier

Yeah, arguments and misunderstandings happen occasionally, but they get resolved quickly

The kids tend to go to Snatcher for advice and with questions. He doesn’t like to bring up his own problems with them as he doesn’t want to bother them.

Snatcher, the Dwellers, the Subconites..they tend to just get a little burst of happiness seeing each other/saying hello

Snatcher just genuinely enjoys the company of the kids, and playing with them, and when they get so excited to talk to him it just makes him so happy, and he’s so protective of them...And just the same they respect him so much, and look up to him, and feel safe with him, and try to look out for him

They’re all there for each other and have a secure relationship 🖤

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e3a: tokyo grows

episode summary: inexplicably existing in post-war japan, brain hijacks a shrink ray he just found laying around in order to make it a growth ray. he intends to dress pinky up as terrifying local monster gollyzilla, and pretend to defeat him, so the japanese people... elect him... president. of. japan.

all i’m gonna say is shinzo abe’s replacement has a hell of a lot coming to him if that’s a job requirement.

the rundown:

IT IS TOKYO IN 1956.

you can tell because it says “tokyo 1956″ in big letters at the bottom of the screen.

as we take a detour into acmeshito labs, senior-ly produced by tom ruegger,

we see a fellow sacrificing his shoes to the shoe gods. (sorry about that weird line at the bottom. vlc player has just decided it’s doing that now, i guess. nothing i can do about it.)

inside, some other lads, who have all been produced by peter hastings (my, the man gets around) are shrinking tvs for fun and giggles.

“at last! professor mifune! you have perfected the process of shrinking electronic devices, so we can sell them to americans for a lot of money!”

hm.

“yes, shimura, and now i say to you! miniturisation will be very,

BIG.”

and then they both shuffle over to stand in front of each other and laugh in a weird stilted way.

HA. HAHAHA. HAHAHA. i’m not sure if this is making fun of japanese people, or a common trend in japanese media (or voice acting?) at the time, but, um, i’m uncomfortable.

thankfully, the newly miniturised radio advertises that Legendary Prehistoric Monster Gollyzilla has been spotted, and apparently

the emperor wants mifune’s scientific opinion on gollyzilla

GOLLYZILLA

so maybe it’s best for mifune and shimura to get the fuck out of dodge.

so the two of them make a hasty retreat - after toeing their shoes back on, of course.

but who are these two!

brain looks pensive. i don’t know what’s in that waterbottle, but he’s having a tiny mousie crisis. pinky is narfing at him with little to no concern for his mental state.

still, crisis or not, brain has a world to take over. he mentions to pinky that the scentific equipment before them will be “invaluable for his plan to”

“TAKE OVER THE WORLD.” we really do get one per episode, huh.

“you mean you’re going to shrink down all the electronic so only mice can operate them?”

which is a reasonable idea, i think. brain counters it with “don’t be absurd, pinky, there’s no future in minaturisation,” and clarifies that is is big things that strike fear into the hearts of humans.

like that ridiculous legend of gollyzilla. <gay little hands on hip pose>

as pinky ponders whether Kay Ballard is In The Union (sorry, pinky, she’s dead) brain explains that his intent is to alter the shrink ray into a growth ray, to “become a four hundred foot tall mouse and save the world from gollyzilla.”

“but you just. said there was no such thing as gollyzilla, brain.”

“there is now, pinky.”

did we really need another closeup for that line, guys? really? is it not enough to have the mouse say his lines without shoving the camera into his face? must the man deepthroat the camera every time he has things to say?

anyway brain’s plan is to dress pinky up as gollyzilla and “save tokyo” from him. you can tell because the camera angle makes it look like his head is on gollyzilla’s body.

this random man takes a toke from his old timey pipe. “yes, i see.” he says. this is not explained.

as brain reverses the shrink ray into a growth ray, pinky makes his debut.

TADAAAAAAA POIT.

“what do you think, brain? pretty scaaaaaaary, eh?”

“yes, pinky. terrifying. stand by.”

boop.

there probably won’t be a lot left of the lab when brain is done, unfortunately.

but hey! check this out!

“narf.”

“where are you, brain? i can’t see you.”

“i’m down--”

bonk.

well, he’s clearly dead, so i guess that’s this review over.

jokes, of course. lucky for us, brain is still alive, and he has brought a little megaphone with him! awwww.

“now, go on your rampage, gollyzilla!” he’s very hype for that, it appears. pinky tries his best not to disappoint.

NARF POIT I AM PINKZILLA KING OF THE MONSTERS

AARGHGGHGHH RAAARGHGHG ARGH.

it’s this random man again. “yesss, i see.” i don’t know who he is, or why he’s here, and i am scared.

but never mind him. we cut to this adorable straight couple chilling on this bridge.

“i love you, fumiko.”

“and i love you, hershel.”

awwww.

unfortunately, famously heterophobic legendary monster gollyzilla is here. “hello!” he says, cheerily. “i’m on a rampage. narf.”

fumiko and hershel get the fuck out of dodge.

still, pinky’s having fun, and that’s what matters.

though bits of his costume are coming off.

“oooh, i can’t see through this thing!”

“oh.”

“oh no! the giant monster is moulting!”

rip that guy, i guess. upon attempting to recover his lost glove, pinky accidentally spikes his tail on a nearby building in the process.

“egad. i’m all a tangle!”

he gives it a yank, for good measure,

and ends up catapulting himself into the abyss.

the random man is back. “yesss, i see,” he says. what does he want? what is he doing here? please don’t smoke in front of me, sir. i have real bad asthma.

meanwhile, brain is making himself “the largest mouse on earth, and hero of the planet.”

donk.

this frame is terrifying so obviously i’m making everyone look at it.

“people of tokyo! do not fear! i, brainodo, have come to save you!”

i’m not sure they’re convinced. the army have shown up, by this point.

“it’s another giant monster! even more ugly than gollyzilla!”

rude.

brain suggests that, perhaps, he is actually an artificially enlarged labmouse here to save them from gollyzilla, and maybe they could thank him by making them emperor.

the military do not agree.

so, yknow, maybe it’s best that he goes to look for pinky.

“how can i save the city from gollyzilla with no gollyzilla!” yells brain, as he steps on a school bus and either, 1, kills like 40 children, or 2, ruins the setpiece for melanie martinez’s 2019 music video “wheels on the bus.”

(no one’s watching us don’t give a fuck wheels on the bus ou ou)

anyway it’s a good thing that pinky has decided to spontaniously burst out of this lake. man’s really commiting to the role, huh.

again, he’s having fun.

brain is less impressed.

after admonishing pinky for running off,

brain reminds him to “make the battle look realistic”. their plan, of course, depends on it.

TAKE THAT, YOU HORRIBLE BEAST

ouch.

pinky sure is putting a weird amount of effort into this battle. and pyrotechnics??? yeah.

bonk.

bonk.

yeet.

as brain unflomphs himself, and prepares to strike back, pinky comes over to see what’s going on.

“scuse me, brain.”

“go away, pinky. can’t you see i’m fighting with pinky?”

“oh, but. wait.”

“how can you be fighting with me over there, if i’m over here?”

“it’s a very simple principle, pinky! it’s because!”

“that’s the real gollyzilla.”

and by the looks of things, he’s not very happy.

conclusion:

pinky’s first instinct, upon seeing The Real Gollyzilla (please stand up, please stand up) brandishing a building at them, is to pick brain up and flee in terror.

it’s very cute. he just scoops him up and nopes him away. not today, gollyzilla. not today.

gollyzilla, unfortunately, seems pretty bloody determined to make it today.

unfortunately, in his quest to deliver brain to safety, pinky walks right into a pylon.

bonk. they fall over. ):

and unfortunately, they fell directly onto what was once acmeshito labs, which activates the growth ray in the process.

it’s this guy again.

who are you??? what the fuck do you want?? why are you just smoking your pipe and looking at me like that and saying yesss, i seeeee. what do you see??? did the newslady send you??? what do you want from me??????

he gets shot by the growth ray. good. die.

the mice, as you can imagine, are not having a great time of things right now.

gollyzilla is fully prepared to bonk them on the head.

but oh! what is this?

random man? is that you? are you our hero, random man? is this your redemption arc?

do you see now, random man? what do you see?

well, he just yeeted a building, so jot that down.

he seems to be preparing himself to yeet gollyzilla, too.

same.

the mice duck out of the way as the fearsome creature is launched like an olympic sport. good thing tokyo 2020 got cancelled, i guess.

air lizard. nyoom. unfortunately they land on the remains of acmeshitu labs,

and nudges the growth ray in the process.

it goes a bit haywire.

the mice look on, perturbed, as it starts firing at random objects.

like this building.

and that fire hydrant.

and that building.

and this, uh.

city?

um????

oh dear.

at least acmeshito labs is going back in for repairs.

“it’s a shame we’re not giant any more, brain.”

“we are, pinky. unfortunately, so is everything else. our relative smallness remains.”

alright. that’s the end of that one, i guess. that’s going down as a solid outside influence.

brain: 5 ½ pinky: 6 ½ outside influence: 11

brilliant, brain!

but oh, wait, no. is earth like, 400 times its’ previous size, now? surely that can’t be good for the universe????

what are your thoughts, bbc science focus?

well. that’s not good.

[miamirelationship989]

Dating For Widows Over 50

Dating For Widows Over 50 For Men

Widows And Widowers Dating Site

Dating For Widows Over 50 Women

Widows and Widowers over Age 50chevron-down-small. Widows and Widowers over Age 50. Find out what's happening in Widows and Widowers over Age 50 Meetup groups around the world and start meeting up with the ones near you. Join Widows and Widowers over Age 50. Related Widows: Dating Sites Money. Email email this! Brittney Mayer Updated: Relationship's Deal. Browse Profiles Free. Sign up for FREE.After having been married, possibly for many years, and going through the trauma and grief that comes with the death of a spouse, widows and widowers may find dating daunting.

Some of the links below are affiliate links, so we may receive a commission, at no cost to you, if you make a purchase through a link. Check our disclaimer for more info. (* = affiliate link)

Losing a spouse is one of the hardest things to go through. You essentially lose your best friend and the person you did everything with. But, once you’ve come to terms with the loss, you may find yourself longing for another partner to spend the rest of your life with, and wonder if there’s someone out there willing to give you a chance.

Some dating tips for widows over 50 include dating another widower, don’t start dating until you feel ready, and don’t talk about your late spouse on the first date unless you’re asked, among other things.

It can be scary to go into the dating world when you’re a widow over 50, though. However, you’re human and all humans want to have deep, social connections. Read on for more great tips to get the next phase of your life started.

Be Honest About Your Age

It might be tempting to lie about your age, especially if you look younger than you really are. But while it can make you feel more youthful and perhaps even get you more dates, it’s best not to lie.

If you end up in a long-term relationship with the person you’re dating, they’ll appreciate your honesty. Lying about something like your age can break the relationship apart or cause your date to think you lie about everything.

Don’t be ashamed of your age; it’s just a number! It’s the way you act and your attitude that determines how attractive you are.

Date Another Widower

Another widower will understand the journey you’ve been through. This may make it easier to have conversations about how you’re feeling, which always makes a relationship stronger. It may also make certain things you do seem less awkward to the one you’re dating.

For example, if you keep photos of your late partner around, a fellow widower would understand without needing an explanation. Or, if you randomly cry because a place reminds you of your spouse, they won’t ask a bunch of questions or judge you.

You’ll both be on the same wavelength and understand the ups and downs of life after a significant loss.

Don’t Talk About Your Late Spouse on the First Date Unless They Ask

It might seem natural to talk about your late spouse, but consider not doing so on the first date. It might make things awkward, especially if you become emotional.

Your date might not know what to say to you, and this might make them uncomfortable or scare them away. If they ask, you can try to keep it brief, so you don’t go into an emotional spiral. Once things get a bit more serious, then you can talk about it in more detail.

That being said, it’s also very important to stay natural and genuine on a first date. So don’t pretend you’re a different person just for the sake of not talking about your late spouse.

Don’t Date Until You Feel Ready

Your family or friends might be pressuring you into dating again. But, things won’t work out if you’re not ready.

Whatever you do, don’t force yourself to get out there. Your heart and mind won’t be focused on finding someone to connect with. Take time to grieve—everyone does so at their own pace. Once you’ve grieved, you’ll feel a lot lighter, and dating will come more naturally. You’ll be happier and able to communicate about your late spouse in a more positive and constructive way.

Don’t Try to Replace Your Late Spouse

Of course, you’ll miss your late spouse, and you’ll probably want to find someone similar to them.

But there’s no one out there who can replace your previous spouse. And if you go searching for someone to do so, you’ll only end up disappointed and trying to change someone. You could also end up hurting the other person because they may feel they may never live up to your expectations.

Remember, each person has their own special qualities and are lovable in their own way. It’s okay to miss and appreciate your late spouse, but don’t ignore a great person if they’re in front of you now.

Be Yourself

As always, it’s important to be yourself when beginning to date again.

You may feel different because an important part of your life is gone, or you may want to change other aspects of yourself because you want to reinvent yourself, but don’t! Otherwise, you’ll come across as inauthentic and insecure.

Just be yourself, flaws and all. Your journey has made you a stronger person with a story to tell. You’ll find someone who connects with you and loves you for you.

Don’t Be Afraid to Date Someone Younger

Don’t feel restricted to your age group when dating after the loss of a spouse. You can date younger if you’d like to or if a younger guy or girl flirts with you.

As we stated previously, age is just a number. It may be refreshing to get some new perspectives and be introduced to cool technology or whatever else the younger generation is into these days. It can make you feel excited about life again.

Define Your Desires

Take some time to reflect on what it is you’re looking for when dating. You’re a different person than you were the last time you dated, so your desires will be different.

Dating For Widows Over 50 For Men

For example, when you were younger, you were likely looking for someone to build a family with. Now, you may have older kids or be established in your career, so your focus has shifted. Perhaps you’re looking for someone to travel or someone who simply makes you laugh, regardless of their financial status.

Widows And Widowers Dating Site

Get Busy With Activities

It’s important to stay busy by participating in some hobbies or going out with your friends. When dating, your partner wants to know that you’re not just sitting around waiting for them to call. Otherwise, they may really believe they’re just dating an old man or woman who needs someone to take care of them.

So, join a class, visit your local community center or partake in some kind of creative activity at home. It spices things up when you’re well rounded and have interests of your own. It’ll give you something to talk about when you go on dates, or you can even go on a date to do the activity together.

Dating For Widows Over 50 Women

Join a Support Group

These days, there are support groups for just about everything. You can probably find a support group for widows in your city or a nearby city if you look hard enough.

When you’re there, you’ll likely meet other widows or find someone through a member of the support group. Besides meeting a potential dating partner, joining a support group can help you through the grieving process so that you feel ready to date again.

Join a Dating Site for Widows

Just as there are dating sites for Christians, farmers, college students, and other groups of people, there are dating sites for widows.

Some of these sites include Elite Singles and Silver Singles. It may be nice to narrow down the dating pool to fellow widowers, and these sites make it simple. Online dating is also great because you can build your confidence through messaging before meeting potential partners face to face.

Conclusion

It could be hard to date when you’re a widow over 50, but it doesn’t have to be.

This article outlined some expert tips to help you get back into that phase of your life where you’re out meeting new people. Some notable tips include going to support groups to meet other widows, not dating until you feel ready, and not talking about your late spouse on the first date.

Hopefully, you can make use of them and enjoy some romance in your life.

Sources

Telegraph: 10 Dating Tips for Widows and Widowers

[rwbyremnants]

Warning: tiny gore, mostly implied

=Chapter 29

Weiss's stay in the hospital felt like it took an eternity. Nearly two weeks had passed since the incident before they were confident enough to release her into her mother’s care - and even then, she was to return for regular check-ups and would not be allowed to participate in any vigorous physical activity for another two. That was fine, except for…

“UGH!” Yang burst out as they rode home in the back of Kali’s car. Her mother was in the front, alongside her new best friend. “You know what that means, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Weiss sighed, rubbing over her stomach through her blouse. She had been doing that on a regular basis ever since they took the bandages off; she was so used to having something blocking her there that now it was fascinating to feel her tummy directly again.

“How are we gonna…” Glancing at the front seat, she then cleared her throat and attempted, “How will we play tennis anymore?”

Trying not to laugh, she answered, “Oh, you’re right. Between your shoulder and this wound, playing tennis would be a little unwise. Maybe we shouldn’t play tennis for a while until we’re all healed up.”

Kali called behind her without even turning around, “You two aren’t fooling anyone in this car.”

“About what?” Mrs. Schnee asked. “Tennis? I didn’t even know Miss Yang played.”

“I stand corrected,” she laughed, and Yang and Weiss laughed along with her. Though she felt a little guilty that her mother was left out of the conversation, perhaps it was best that way.

Still, after a minute or two, Yang seemed to feel differently. She scratched the back of her head before commenting, “Hey… Mrs. Schnee, um… I gotta say, it's been really great that you've been so… accepting.”

“What do you mean, dear?”

“Well, with me and Weiss. Kind of expected you to flip your lid.”

The woman fell silent for a moment as she thought about that. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “I can't pretend to understand what my daughter is going through, what she feels. We've both understood all our lives that people like you are sinners. And yet… it's my own husband who's done the most harm to my daughter. You make her happy while the man I used to trust more than anyone else hurts her. Seems to me like… all the rules have changed, I suppose. Something like that.”

Though Yang had no response for those words, apparently Kali did. “I won't try to pretend I've ever been religious. But isn't your god supposed to be one of love and acceptance? If he can't accept the love in this backseat, then he isn't much of a god to me.”

“That's…” It almost sounded like Willow was about to argue. Then she simply sighed and slumped down in her seat. “Maybe so. I don't know.”

The rest of the ride home was a little bit uncomfortable, but Weiss felt some satisfaction that at least her mother seemed to be doing some deep thinking on the subject. Everything would be fine in due time.

Once Willow was safe and sound in Atlas Heights, the other three returned to the Belladonna home. Without having selected another fallback location, that was still to serve as their headquarters for the immediate future, and they had much to discuss.

“I'm trying not to lose my cool,” Yang confessed as she rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. “What if she wants to kick you out because your dad's been making threats and stuff? I'm going to have to argue with her, and I'd rather not do that if I don't have to…”

“Then don't,” Weiss told her simply, as if that settled the matter.

“But I'll have to. I mean, you're my girl, right? I'd throw myself from a train for you. If I can't even stand up to Salem, then I don't deserve the title of ‘Weiss's girlfriend’ at all.”

The paper-shaker reached over to squeeze her hand as they pulled onto Blake and Kali's street. “You deserve it if I say you do. And that's that.”

“Oh boy,” Kali sighed onto the steering wheel. “Look at all this…”

She was referring to the dozen motorcycles parked in her driveway, partly spilling into the backyard. It was bad enough that she had no room for her own vehicle and had to park on the street, which probably rankled. Of course, the Duchess took it all in stride.

“Chins up,” she whispered as they walked up toward the front door. “This is our first big meeting since the fire, but it's not our first meeting ever. We'll be fine.”

“It's my first big meeting!” Weiss insisted. “I'm a baby Dragon, remember?”

Yang slid her arm around Weiss's back, squeezing probably a little bit harder than was strictly necessary. “Don't sweat it. I'm going to be right there the whole time, okay? Just… stick to the truth. That your dad has lost his marbles and you have nothing to do with it. Easy peasy.”

“I hope you're right…”

They had never seen the Belladonna living room quite so full. In fact, several Dragons had to sit in the dining room, craning their necks to see everyone else. Salem laid claim to what had probably been Mr. Belladonna's easy chair as if it were a throne; Weiss expected nothing less. Sienna was nearby, ready and willing to assist in any way needed. Blake seemed to be flitting around and helping Vernal freshen drinks - something not quite in character, but probably expected of her as interim host until her mother returned.

“About time,” Salem grunted from under the hem of her hood. “Thought they might have changed their minds about discharging the girl.”

Weiss swallowed, eyes sweeping the room to look at all the faces gazing back at her. Vernal, Blake, and Coco were there, and Velvet was perched at Coco's side. She was the only one who smiled and waved at Weiss, which she appreciated more than she could say in that moment - both because she was nervous, and because she knew pleasantries would have to wait until after business had been taken care of.

“She's going to be fine,” Kali told her, hand still lingering on Weiss's shoulder. “And now that your Warlord and Duchess are here, shall we get started?”

Salem gestured with one pale hand to the rickety looking folding chairs off to one side. Where they had come up with so many folding chairs, Weiss couldn't say, but it looked like someone had raided a church basement. Kali took the one closest to the High Dragon, and Weiss and Yang took the other two.

“This meeting of the Vale Dragons has come to order,” Sienna announced with a few claps of her hands. “Please join us in the credo!”

Weiss felt the tingling a fear in her stomach - what credo?! Before she had a chance to ask any questions, everyone else in the room was saying in one strong voice, “Strength! Loyalty! Unity! Sorority!” Even Velvet. It felt awful to be the least informed member of their ragtag family, but she knew it was going to take time for her to get caught up.

Then it was Salem's turn to talk. She didn't stand or otherwise call attention to herself; she didn't need to.

“Sisters, we have a problem.” A few of them nodded, and there was a sharp bark of laughter from somewhere that Weiss couldn't quite pinpoint. “One of our own has betrayed us.”

“Oh no,” Weiss couldn't help breathing. The whisper didn't go unnoticed.

“It isn't little Princess Schnee. No… another is our turncoat. Selling inside information to the highest bidder. Someone none of us would have expected in the slightest.” Her inflection scarcely changed as she called out, “Neo, come forward.”

It took a great effort of will for Weiss to suppress the urge to ask who in the Sam Hill she meant. Not that it was necessary; the instant Salem finished speaking, a few of the Dragons stepped aside to reveal a smallish girl with two-tone hair that matched her eyes - one brown, one pink. She had never seen anyone with eyes like those before. The girl's eyebrows hiked up at being addressed, but an instant later, she stepped forward as she had been commanded.

“You cannot answer for your crimes directly; I understand this. Most of the questions will be simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.” The girl nodded. “Did you set the fire?” She shook her head vigorously, leaning forward very slightly as she did so. “Did you drug Sustrai?” Another shake. “Did you help someone else do either of those things?”

This time, the girl didn't look quite so confident. Such a long hesitation set off a ripple of gasps around the room. Weiss found herself completely shocked; how did Salem know all this? How could anyone have figured out the culprit was this tiny slip of a girl that she had failed to notice at all?

“I'll need a name,” the High Dragon pressed, ignoring the way the target of her interrogation began to tremble. “You may write it down and we'll take it from there. If you do, the consequences for you will be far less dire than if you withhold that information.”

Only a few seconds ticked by as the girl considered her situation, looking around the room at all of the outraged faces. Weiss's was not the only one a mask of complete shock, but several others, including Yang and Blake, were full of pure fury. Then she reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and produced a tiny notebook and a stub of a pencil. The scratching of it upon a scrap of paper barely lasted a second or two before she tore it out and passed it over to her leader.

Salem's eyes were shadowed by her hood, and therefore it was impossible to know her true reaction to reading the name. Her fist curled around the scrap and she straightened to look at the accused.

“I would ask why you have betrayed us, but given your condition, it would require quite a long amount of writing. You may present that to me when next we meet. For the time being, you must choose your punishment. Lashes… the mark of betrayal… or banishment.”

Even though the traitor had looked anxious and frightened up until that point, this was the first time true fear set in. She glanced around as if hoping for help from another Dragon, but found none. She fell to her knees in front of Salem and pressed her forehead to her knee, but one of Sienna's boots raised to shove her away an instant later.

“You are not worthy to touch our leader!” she hissed at her through clenched teeth. But Salem raised a hand to forestall her from further reprimanding the accused.

“That will be all. What is your choice?”

Instead of answering directly, Neo shivered with the force of her silent sobs for a few more seconds. Weiss had been expecting her to write down her decision, or finally speak up, but instead, she merely began to remove her jacket.

“In the backyard,” Salem ordered. “No reason to get blood on Kali's pristine carpet. Who will witness?”

“I will,” Yang volunteered, raising a hand.

“And I,” said another woman Weiss didn't know. She felt like a stranger at an ice cream social with all of the unfamiliar Dragons crammed in there. That would have to change if she were truly going to be part of the organization.

“Very well. See that it is done.”

To her surprise, it was Sienna who got up to escort the girl out. Weiss had been expecting the girl to say something, and she did - but it wasn’t quite what she expected.

“Hnanhu.”

Her brow furrowed at the sound. What was she hearing? Did this girl speak some other language - was that why she had been so quiet? Had she taken a vow of silence as part of her Dragons initiation?

“You’re welcome. Do well to remember this kindness.” Only now, she noticed that Salem was taking great care to look directly at Neo whenever she spoke. “Take her.”

As the four of them left, she looked toward Kali as the wheels continued to turn. “Is she… a deaf-mute?”

“She's hard of hearing, yes.”

“Oh.” Her eyes turned toward the door through which they had disappeared. “Do you think… I mean, shouldn't we have-”

“Whether or not Neo is capable of hearing or speech has nothing to do with the grief she has caused the Dragons,” Salem said in an even tone of voice. “I do not believe it was done with any malicious intent toward us, but rather was motivated by selfishness - or misplaced loyalty to someone else. Either way, she will receive the punishment she deserves, and hopefully that will be the end of that.”

The others nodded their agreement… but Weiss couldn't help feeling sympathy for her. Salem made it sound like she got paid to somehow arrange for Emerald's drugging, which did anger her on a personal level, but she had no idea what her life would be like if she was hard of hearing, unable to interact with the larger portion of the world the same way. Being able to hear was such an integral part of her life! Maybe in exchange for her betrayal, Neo had been paid money that would have helped her cope somehow - not that she knew how. Deafness was an issue she never had to seriously consider before.

Salem clapping her hands brought her attention back around. “To business. There may be Huntsmen ties to the arson, and the stabbing.” A ripple of gasps went through the room, but she pressed on, “Not corroborated. A suspicion and no more. This name is from someone among their number, but as much as I detest Watts… I can't readily believe they're behind this. Neo’s accomplice may have gone rogue.”

“I agree,” Kali put in, inclining her head slightly. “Our current ‘cease fire’ is beneficial to everyone. Why would they risk that in this way - what's the draw?”

“Salem?” Weiss attempted. The woman didn't speak, but did turn to look at her, waiting patiently. “I m-mean, High Dragon. Do you think… my father could be behind it? He pretty much admitted he was behind the fire already. What if he did this, too?”

To her surprise, Salem favored her with a cold little smile. “I'm sure of it. We just need to follow the money.”

“Oh.”

“We already knew Neo’s been seen on Huntsmen turf,” Blake said, arms and legs crossed as she glared into the corner. “But that's not a crime. Well… not really. I've listened to records with Sun and Neptune while checking in on him after… the bike race.”

“But it is suspicious,” her mother added, and Blake nodded her agreement. “We'll have to implement a strategy for monitoring…”

As Weiss tried not to fall into a pit of despair, the others continued to discuss the situation and where they should go from there. She was having trouble focusing. How could her father, her own flesh and blood, sink this low? It was as if instead of a great man with a few flaws, he had always been a terrible man underneath a paper-thin veneer of respectability and moral high ground. All it took was deciding his daughter needed “correction” for that facade to fall away, revealing a true monster.

Beyond that, she also couldn't help worrying that her new life in the Dragons was going to get her killed - or get someone else killed, like Yang. But she mostly agreed with her mother's sentiments. For all the ways that her life had become more frightening, it had also changed for the better. She didn't want to give it all up now - especially not Yang. Not without a fight. She simply hoped that fight wasn't one she would lose.

She didn't snap back to reality until the three returned, the shivering and shaking Neo suspended between Yang and Sienna. Her shirt was in place, but red was seeping through the light pink fabric where it stretched over her back. Weiss wanted to cry. But Neo’s eyes were curiously dry; she looked as if she were crying during the lashing but had stopped before being brought inside.

“Neo Politan, you are hereby pardoned of your sins,” Salem declared without preamble. This time, Weiss could definitely tell she was taking extra care to form each word with her lips, and that Neo was watching them move. “Forgiven, but not forgotten; the High Dragon never forgets when her girls are wronged. Do your best to prove yourself worthy of trust again.”

The girl nodded, shaking so much that it almost looked like a spasm. Sienna glanced at Kali. “Your restroom?”

“Upstairs on the left,” she told her, and she pulled Neo along. To her credit, she didn't put up any fight; she was simply numb from the cruelty of the punishment. Her legs dragged occasionally but she was picking them up most of the time.

The room was only quiet for a moment before Salem asked, “You don't approve of my methods?” Weiss was horrified to realize she was staring at her.

“I… yes, High Dragon. Wh-what I mean is, I do approve! But I'm… she's so small…”

“Not much shorter than you,” Yang pointed out. “And you took the branding like a champ.”

“Cinder always said she could count on Neo to watch her back in a fight,” Coco said in a quiet voice. “I mean… maybe not after this, but yeah, she's a scrappy little thing.”

Salem cleared her throat and folded her hands neatly in her lap, waiting for the understandable rise of chatter to settle again before she spoke. “That takes care of our primary business. What of our hunt for a new sanctuary?”

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

From there, Weiss lost track of the conversation somewhat. Many potential sites to rebuild Shopkeeper's were proposed, and the pros and cons of each debated. Yang even suggested the abandoned train depot, leaving out that she used it as a hidden make-out spot; it was dismissed as too old and decrepit to renovate. Weiss pretended not to notice how relieved her girlfriend looked.

In the end, it was decided their temporary plan would be to clear the debris from their haunt and see if it was worth restoring to its former glory. The meeting was adjourned with Kali expressing distress at the mess her house was left in, but also obviously resigned to her fate of clearing it away.

“Don't worry, we'll help,” Weiss promised her with a small smile as the dozens of bodies filed out of the tiny home. “Won't we, Yang?”

The blonde looked more resigned than enthusiastic about pitching in, but she still nodded. Velvet was able to pester Coco into staying, as well, and the four girls helped Blake put the living room and dining room right while Kali focused on the kitchen. Most of the efforts needed there were on rinsing out drinking glasses, of course.

“That could have gone worse,” Velvet piped up.

“Really?” Yang snapped at her as she finished wrapping the power cord around the vacuum cleaner. “Like how?”

As Velvet recoiled, she went on, “W-well, I… turned out not so awful in the end, right? We have someone to blame, and… and Neo says she won't do it again…”

“I still had to watch her get lashes. With a whip. Don't like watching friends get hurt like that, no matter what by. Even if they brought it on themselves.”

The poor, mousy girl went back to cleaning. After a second or two, Weiss followed Yang as she stowed the vacuum in the hall closet.

“Did you have to come down on her like that? She's just trying to be positive.”

Shaking her head, she leaned against the closet door and stared off toward the living room. “Yeah. Nothing to be positive about as far as I am concerned.” Weiss only stared evenly at her, so she eventually threw up both hands and hissed, “What do you want me to say? That I'm glad I had to watch a girl get her back ripped up all over? I'm not. Makes me sick to my stomach. But I get that there's a reason we had to do it.”

“None of that is Velvet's fault. You know that. She was just trying to look on the bright side of things, and… sure, I guess it's a little naive, but doesn't she have enough stress in her life right now? She might have to leave the country, leave us! And Coco!”

“Well…” Yang squirmed uncomfortably for a second before sighing, her shoulders slumping downward. “I know. Probably wants all her last memories of America to be good ones. But I can't act like a Dragon getting whipped is good, no matter why it happened.”

Weiss wrapped her arms gently around Yang's middle, laying her head on her shoulder. Hands found the center of her own back to return the gesture, and she allowed her eyes to close for a moment, simply drinking in the nearness.

“I understand. But Velvet needs friends right now. Just tell her… tell her you're sorry you were so short with her, because you're upset about having to watch the whipping.”

Squirming a little, Yang said, “I'm, uh, not so good at feelings. You know that. But I'll try.”

“Thank you.”

“What do I get as a reward?” A slight gleam crept into her violet eyes.

“The satisfaction of knowing you did the right thing, you big ape,” she snapped at her, and Yang chuckled aloud. “Come on.”

The apology was met with flustered assurances that it wasn't necessary, which of course made Yang insist, and eventually Velvet thanked her and bowed her head in mild shame. Weiss and Coco shared bemused smiles as the audience of this exchange, both thinking their girlfriends were awkward squares and all the more adorable for it.

“So about you and Velvet,” she asked her as they hauled sacks out to the trash cans on the curb.

“You want another lesson?” When Weiss's face paled by several shades, Coco laughed and slapped her on the shoulder with her free hand. “Okay, okay. What do you want if it's not that?”

Shaking her head out to rid it of strong mental images, she went on, “Someone mentioned that you also have a fella you're going steady with. Does he know…?”

“About Velvet? Of course.”

“And he doesn't mind? No jealousy, nothing like that?”

Shrugging, she took out a cigarette and lit it as they gazed back at the Belladonna home. Weiss tried her best not to be offended by the acrid scent of smoke. “Nope. We have an understanding. Besides, he's… Fox is… we are definitely not like most couples. We’re more like friends who occasionally go to bed together. I’d marry him for the social arrangement, and because we’re comfortable with each other.”

Almost dreading the answer, Weiss asked, “And Velvet?”

“It's different,” she said with an uncharacteristic tenderness in her voice before taking another drag. She didn’t need to hear any more to know exactly how she meant that; the way Weiss felt about Yang.

“Y-yeah. Well, I mean, I guessed that; you two seem really close.” Coco nodded. “Would you… I mean, what if you moved down to Australia with her?”

“Where would I go down there? What would I do? Even though I- a part of me wants to, wants to follow her to the ends of the Earth, the rest of my whole life is here. She would have to take care of me, and that’s not how Coco wants her life to go.”

Hunching her shoulders against the light chill on the breeze, weirded out by how she referred to herself in the third person, she asked, “Then why not just break up with her now? Don't make her wait for it to happen.”

“Because now is all we have, Schnee.”

Something about the pure bitterness in that statement made Weiss think better of continuing the conversation. Coco's eyes were hidden behind her aviators, as usual, but she had to wonder how haunted they would look if she could see them. In absence of knowing what else to say and feeling helpless, she rested a hand on her shoulder to offer her a moment of meager comfort before returning to the house.

Everything taken care of, Kali was already whipping up something tasty in the kitchen, Blake at her side. Coco and Velvet took their leave, which meant Yang had to set the table all by herself - once Weiss left to help with dinner, feeling it was more pressing.

“There's really not much left to do,” the elder woman assured her with a gentle smile. “It's just a simple stew. Matter of fact, I was thinking about leaving to pick up Willow to join us once it's on to simmer.”

“Oh,” Weiss said with a small, pleased smile. “Okay. I could help stir it until you get back.”

Blake narrowed her eyes at her. “Why do you look so thrilled right now? Like Christmas came early.”

“No reason.”

“She's just happy that her mother isn't languishing in regrets and Merlot,” Kali told her daughter while patting her on the shoulder and leaning over to kiss the side of her head. Blake pushed her away, but there was no real force to the push. “Mind the store for me?”

“Sure, Mom.” The woman took her leave. As Blake turned back to the stove and took up the wooden spoon, she said, “Could you cut that out?”

“What? Cut what out?”

“Trying to set our moms up with each other.”

Weiss blinked in surprise, hand falling away from the silverware drawer. She had been about to get a spoon to test the flavour of the stew before she was extremely distracted.

“Admit it,” Blake went on as she stirred, barely glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. “I definitely haven't been the one pushing them together. And you’re always into everyone’s business, you busybody.”

“Busybody?!” she burst out, fists on her hips. “How can you say that? Sure, I like to know what’s going on with the Dragons and with Pyrrha, and Ruby, but I’m only concerned about my friends; I don’t stick my nose in otherwise!”

Tossing her hair slightly, the cook’s daughter stirred a little more vigorously than was strictly necessary as she snapped, “Yeah, the one who keeps demanding to know what’s wrong between me and Yang, and grilling Coco and Velvet about their relationship - I overheard you,” she offered before Weiss could ask.

“Better a busybody than some, some… eavesdropper!”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I have excellent hearing!”

“Girls, will you keep it down to a dull roar?” Yang said from the doorway, the elbow of her good arm leaning against the frame. Not that her other arm was “bad”, but she tended to favour it slightly while it was still healing. “Seriously, what’s the crisis?”

Fists vibrating at her sides, she told her girlfriend, “This germ is insinuating things, Yang!”

“Things that are true!” Blake protested, having abandoned the stew for the moment.

“Yeah, yeah, I overheard. There’s something I don’t get, though.” When neither of them responded, Yang shrugged and added, “What’s so bad about them spending more time with each other? Maybe they’ll move in together. Then you’d both have a sister. Why’s that such a horrible thing?”

Blake didn’t respond at all, simply breathing hard and staring down at the linoleum. But Weiss thought she knew why. This may have still been related to her issues of jealousy over Yang. Not that she expected her to admit as much, even if confronted. It also probably had a lot to do with Kali focusing more of her attention on the Schnee family lately; she would probably feel the same way if her relationship with her own mother were closer than it had been for the past several years.

“Blake, I'm sorry,” Weiss attempted in a more even tone. “I can honestly tell you that I haven't been encouraging them in any way. But I also haven't been discouraging them; I think it's healthy that they each have a friend now. Don't you? I mean, my mother has been trapped in the house for years, only really leaving to go to church and the Country Club. And my father kept her on such a tight leash that she barely even got to do that!”

“What about my mother, huh? She has the Dragons, and her job - and she has me. So what does she need with a… a replacement family?” The instant Weiss raised a hand as if she were going to pet her consolingly, Blake bristled and turned away. “Save it. I need some air. You can handle stirring the stew, right? Can't you, Weiss Belladonna?”

Before either Yang or Weiss could say a word, Blake fled the room and headed for the driveway. They still hadn't spoken to each other when they heard her motorcycle roar to life and fade into the distance.

[lynneshobbydomain]

Vengeance Chapter 10

((Thank you so much @sinfulwonders for betaing this chapter for me. You’re always so kind. Also thank you all for the reblogs and for the likes. Just a heads up, not only is this chapter long, but it does contain two deaths that may be disturbing to you. Please be advised.))

Rating: M (Violence)

Summary: Amateur Detective Shuichi Saihara knew that searching for the "Usual 16" wasn't going to get him anywhere. The disappearances weren't being tracked in any news outlet, and very few families even tried to come forward to ask for help, let alone to report them missing. Yet, Shuichi can't shake off the feeling that there's a reason behind the disappearances, and he's close to the answer. He just didn't realize that the answer was going to hit close to home, in more ways than one.

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You can read this underneath the cut or at my A03

Shuichi knew that the tranquility wasn’t going to last, but he did his best to milk it anyway. He let Kokichi drag him out of the house, in clothes that would make anyone do a double-take. They hung at the ice cream parlor for a little bit, Kokichi smearing a bit of his ice cream on Shuichi's cheek when Shuichi sniped at him too much and didn’t let him get away with any of his lies. He let Kokichi sneak him into a movie theatre without paying, trying to ignore how his hands sweat with nerves and how his heart continued to pound and race even though he knew that there was little to no chance that they were going to be caught when the movie started. He let Kokichi drag him all over the city, trying to find an arcade that Trick wasn’t at so that they could have some fun.

Shuichi played Yu-Gi-Oh at home, and bartered with Kokichi to go up against him with Smash. Kokichi bantered with Koji, with Keiko, and tried to fill as much light and laughter in the living room as he possibly could. For the first time in a long time, Shuichi had forgotten about the case that he was working on.

It really didn’t surprise him when they were in his room, sitting on the floor, playing slap jack when his phone went off. It wasn’t just his phone either, Kokichi’s phone also went off at the same time. Both of them looked at each other and they both dived for their respective cellular devices. Shuichi half-expected it to be D.I.C.E. He thought that Shuffle might’ve already found a building to hop into, and was going to send the GPS coordinates with a “don’t be late”. He would’ve preferred it honestly to the Danganronpa email that was staring at his face. It’s Voting Time!!!!

Shuichi felt his stomach twist and the room spin uncomfortably. His throat squeezed tightly as he opened the email.

Pick a Death!

Falling?

Drowning?

It was...vague. Shuichi pursed his lips together as he read the question again. Both of them sounded painful, and neither of them sounded quick. Shuichi could imagine the fear and panic from both of the deaths. He knew from his time at the agency that both of those were common suicides. Most of the time those who decided to jump usually picked to jump into rivers, or off of buildings so that there was little to no chance of second-guesses or take backs. The worst suicides were those who decided that it was best to jump in front of a train. Plenty of people went into Aokiagahara Forest because it was quieter, secluded, and less people around to try to talk them out of it. Of course Shuichi knew there were people who constantly wandered the forest to see if they could offer their assistance, their shoulders and ears.

This didn’t sound like a suicide however. Shuichi was certain that the death was going to have to do with a murder of some sort. Falling would be the quickest, but the luring would be hard to do. That person would have to trust the other a lot, especially if they were being coaxed to the edge. Shuichi doubted anyone in that group could call themselves that close. Yuya might fall for it, because she was hyperactive and friendly. Shirogane might, just because she would want to fit in. If Aki wanted to exploit her friendship or if Kokai thought that he could kill Aki or Rantaro, he might be able to convince them to get close and personal with the edge of a building.

He was very certain that Oda would laugh in someone’s face if they tried. Everyone else was too paranoid and not willing to trust anyone with a ten foot pool.

That meant that the most likely way to die was to drown. Shuichi didn’t recall anyone mentioning a pool or a body of water that was nearby the school. The courtyard had a fountain, but...the water would be too shallow for a proper drowning. Shuichi pursed his lips together. It meant a stronger chance of survival. At the same time, Shuichi could easily be misjudging how deep the fountain was.

He didn’t want anyone to die. He didn’t want anyone to suffer. He looked over at Kokichi who was staring at his phone, his thumbnail being bitten between his teeth. His eyes were focused on the small screen, and his brows were furrowed. He was distressed and Shuichi worried for a moment that something happened at home. Kokichi’s parents rarely ever reached out to him in worry or in care. They pretended that he didn’t exist, and Kokichi...well...he tended to like the idea that he didn’t exist. It meant less problems for the three of them, even if Shuichi wished otherwise.

It didn’t mean that his parents didn’t surprise him. Sometimes, Shuichi knew that they’d reach out, only if they thought they could manipulate him to go back home for whatever reason. He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. He looked back at the email, and his heart stuttered. How was he going to watch this when Kokcihi was with him? He couldn’t. He couldn’t risk Kokichi looking at it either. No it was best to vote and it was best to delete the email. It was best to pretend that the episode wasn’t happening…

He wasn’t sure he could watch it, knowing that it could be Aki’s murder that he was actively voting for. He wasn’t sure he could watch it thinking that Aki actively murdered someone. He doubted both of those routes, but they were in a killing game. The two day deadline was up.

Someone was dead and he knew it.

Someone was going to pay for it, and he knew that too.

“Shuichi-chan?” Shuichi jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, trying to hide his phone away from Kokichi’s gaze. He knew that outed him as suspicious immediately. Kokcihi’s gaze flicked, Shuichi wondered what exactly crossed his mind, before a smile played at his lips. “You spaced out there for a minute, beloved~. Did something happen?”

Shuichi had his suspicions on Loki being Kokichi, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go down that rabbit hole yet. Especially since the voting was actively trying to goad people into picking someone’s demise. There was no right way to respond to the email. Someone was going to die in whatever the majority decided on, and as much as Shuichi loved and wanted to protect his cousin, he wasn’t sure he could vote for someone else’s death too.

Aki wouldn’t want him to. Shuichi knew that this could bite him in the ass later, but...Aki wouldn’t want him to vote. Not this. Motives? Probably a way to help. Murder? He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find a reason. Danganronpa wanted him to be an accomplice. He wasn’t going to push someone into hell. He wasn’t going to do that to the victims or their families. With that firm resolve in mind, he gave Kokichi a slight smile. “Danganronpa.” He admitted. “It uh...it was a weird email.”

“I bet...you okay?” Kokcihi pursed his lips tightly. “What did they want?”

“Something I couldn’t give.” Shuichi wished that he had more confidence in his words. He knew that sounded shaky and false, even to him. “It’s okay. I just...it was...a lot.”

“Okay.” Kokichi murmured quietly. “Let’s forget about it for now then. Come on beloved!” He suddenly grabbed Shuichi’s arm and started to pull on him. “Let’s go annoy Keiko-chan in the kitchen.”

“She’s going to hit you with a spoon if you annoy her while she’s cooking, Kokichi-kun.” Shuichi admonished as he let himself be tugged out of his room and out towards the kitchen.

“Then it’s all in good fun!”

                                                              X

Later that night, Shuichi woke up. Being a light sleeper that he was, he was used to being woken up at strange times in the middle of the night. Sometimes, Aki couldn’t sleep and suddenly would start playing music as softly as she could in her room. Sometimes, Kokichi would have nights where he tossed and turned and would accidentally kick him awake. Sometimes, Shuichi’s brain just decided to randomly go on high alert and remind him that he was alone in his room and that for whatever reason something was amiss. Shuichi glanced over to the side to see if it was the Kokichi situation when he registered that the boy wasn’t even in his bed.

He reached over to the side and felt the sheets. They were slightly warm, which meant that Kokichi had left and his side was starting to become cold. He must’ve been up for a while. Shuichi carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached over to his bedside table to turn the lap on. The room immediately flicked into soft yellows and irritated Shuichi’s eyes and head as he rubbed the sleep away from the corners of his eyes. Kokichi wasn’t anywhere in his room. Did he think he would be too much of a disturbance and decided to go out into the living room?

Shuichi looked over at his desk and noticed that his laptop was missing. Shuffle mentioned last night that Kokichi would take his laptop and would drag it down to the living room and watch it. Feeling as though he was about to step in on some private mystery, Shuichi walked out of his room with his heart pounding in his ears. This could be his chance to figure out once and for all if Kokichi actually watched the show. He had his suspicions, he had some of the evidence to back up his claims, but nothing would be as concrete as this. He kept his footsteps light and attentive, making sure to keep his back against the walls and keeping note where the shadows are. It was easy to slink into detective tracking mode, even in his own home.

He could strain to hear the little things that the house hid when no one was paying attention. Keiko was asleep down the hall. The small creaks and groans the house made as it settled down into the earth. The small noises that were made outside, the humming of faraway traffic. He noticed that the living room light was on. The table side of it anyway, since the glow didn’t reach too far towards the hallways or the kitchen. Shuichi peered over the corner, and saw Kokichi on the ground cross legged, his laptop up.

There was an investigation that was happening. Shuichi’s eyebrows furrowed as he decided to let his presence be known. “Danganronpa?”

Kokichi jumped six feet in the air and he scrambled to find some way to save his face, despite that there was no way he could recover from the jumpscare. “Shuichi-chan!” He hissed, pulling his headphones off. Shuichi hadn’t noticed that they were missing or that Kokichi was wearing them. He was still a little shell-shocked that Kokichi was watching the show. “What are you doing?” He whispered. “Go back to sleep, beloved. I’ll-”

“You watch Danganronpa.” It wasn’t meant to sound like an accusation. He didn’t want Kokichi to look at him like that. His neutral expression was just breaking enough that there was a hint of fear that was in his eyes. He was thinking that this was going to be a showdown of some sort. Shuichi didn’t want a fight. He didn’t want a confrontation that didn’t mean anything. “I do too.”

“I know you do, beloved.” Kokichi sighed, his shoulders relaxing only a fraction. “I see you in the chat logs.” He looked at Shuichi and Shuichi could see the anxiousness. The fear. He was just as afraid of this game as Shuichi was. Yet he was watching it by his lonesome. Shuichi wondered if it was because Kokichi thought he needed the sleep, or if he was worried about the same thing he had been worried about previously. About whether or not Aki was the murderer or the victim. “Aki-chan’s still alive.” He paused the recording and stood up, taking the laptop with him. “We should move this into your room. We can talk there.”

Shuichi nodded and they headed back into his room. They got comfortable on his bed, Kokichi placing the laptop between them and tossing the headphones to the side. Shuichi gave him a small glare for it, those were his good noise-cancelling headphones but Kokichi wasn’t paying attention or caring. He quickly adjusted the volume so that it was comfortable before hitting play. “Should I go back to the beginning?” He asked, hovering his mouse over to the replay button.

Shuichi shook his head and Kokichi took his hands off of the computer, and instead found Shuichi’s under the covers. Rantaro was looking around the crime scene and Shuichi’s throat bobbed when he saw the body of the mangaka on the floor. A scalpel lodged deep into her throat. It looked like someone had tried to slit her throat, but either changed their mind last second, or didn’t realize there was a proper way to do it without getting the weapon caught.

“So Shinigami-san was wrong in thinking the chemist was the murderer.” Kokichi mused softly. “I don’t think this would be her thing.”

“Could be the doctor since I’m sure that’s one of his supplies.” Shuichi mused thoughtfully. “Oh they found the bottle of the chemicals used to knock someone out...or kill them.”

“I think it was a knockout. If it was a killing proportion, then why get stabbed in the neck?” Kokichi theorized as Rantaro started to badger his classmates about alibis and where they were. Shuichi noticed that Aki was looking around the room too, casually going over to Rantaro when she found something to help move the case along.

The scene of the crime was interesting too. It was in an abandoned classroom. If the mangaka was going to die somewhere, Shuichi would’ve thought that her lab would’ve been the prime spot. Someone wanted to have a chat. “Did they figure out the time of death or anything?”

“So far, we don’t know much.” Kokichi murmured. “Apparently this is something new they're trying out.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to some of the backlogs that I was reading before the recording showed up,” Kokichi gestured vaguely to the screen. “Monokuma used to tell the students the time of death, type of death, and little other factoids. This time, Monokuma is giving students free reign. I suppose it’s because they have a doctor on their talent team.”

“How do you feel about the talents?” Shuichi asked softly.

“Hmm...nothing really. It’s just a gimmick isn’t it? I bet that’s why Monokuma isn’t exactly being helpful. If the doctor does a botched up job, well...that means that everyone gets killed besides the blackened riiight?” Kokichi drawled softly. The violinist, Akamatsu if Shuichi remembered her name right, came back with Yadori and gave Rantaro a slip of paper that merely said the words midnight on it.

“So they were meeting up in the classroom.” Shuichi concluded. “To talk probably.”

“About what? Did someone know something? Kind of pointless to start having secret meetings now.” Kokichi scoffed a little. “Honestly some of these kids have no clue what they’re doing.”

“You don’t either, Kokichi-kun.” Shuichi winced a little as Kokichi gave him a mock offended look.

Bing. Bong. Bong. Bing sounded through the computer’s speakers and both of the boys’ shut their mouths as Monokuma appeared in the monitor, looking pleased as the cat that got the cream. “It’s now time for the class trial!” He sounded overly gleeful, like this was the best part of the game. The murder was just the cherry on top of it all. He directed the students towards the elevator, and Shuichi watched as fifteen students climbed into the cage like device and go down deep into the underground.

The trial room wasn’t like anything Shuichi had seen before, and he and Kokichi both had been in court rooms. The podiums were like witness stands, all in a circle facing each other so that there was no way to try to hide anyone’s expression or their actions. Everything was for everyone to see. There was one podium in particular that had Chatani’s death portrait, a large X painted in a bright red substance that looked suspiciously like blood.

The room itself was a little insane looking too. Black and white tile reflected a blue light that came from the ceiling, bouncing off of stained glass windows and mosaiced down to the ground. On a red and gold chair sat Monokuma and down in front of him like jury members waiting to hear the deceivsiness of the trial were the loudmouth Monokubs that Shuichi rarely paid attention to.

The rules were simple. Discuss until there was nothing left to discuss. Vote and pray that it was the right answer. If it was wrong, everyone but the blackened would die. Vote correctly and the blackened would die and everyone else would live.

“Usually in trials everyone’s on the witness stand has to say their name and their ultimate.” Aki suddenly spoke up. “And since we know that this is being recorded, we may want to do that just for it to be on the record.”

“Didn’t realize you were the Ultimate Lawyer, Mayumi-chan.” Oda teased.

Aki paused. “My name is Mayumi. I don’t have a last name. I’m the Ultimate Guitarist. I’ll also be bold enough to say that I’m pleading innocent too.”

Everyone in the trial froze. Kokichi let out a high pitched noise that sounded like he was trying to hold back a snicker or a laugh. Shuichi watched as everyone looked at each other, a little nervous. A little less thrilled with the idea that they might be recorded, that someone could actually use this in an actual trial.

“My name is Maeji Sena. I’m the Ultimate Cheerleader.” Shuichi remembered her credits being fun. Her background was usually a gym of some sort with a bunch of people in the stands. He knew about the cheerleader part though mostly because her yellow and blue pom poms that she carried with her gave her away. She was a nice looking girl too. With a side ponytail and a couple of the same colored ribbons. Her uniform supported the color theme. “I’ll also be bold and say that I’m pleading not guilty.”

“Wow. This trial is going to go by so fast.” Shimahara stated, looking completely bored out of his mind. The sparkles of his shirt caught the light of the stained glass, making it shimmer brilliantly. The looks that his classmates were giving him however, were enough to make him shrink. “Fine, fine. My name is Shimahara Yuji. Ultimate Dancer. Ultimate bored out of my fucking mind. I’m not a part of this. Can we move on?”

“Dick.” Yuya grumbled, flapping her sweater sleeves nervously around her body. “Heyo. I’m Yuya Chika and I burn things for fun!”

“Innocent.” Everyone said together at the same time.

“Yuya-chan can’t be a murderer because we’d have a burnt body instead.” Yadori giggled, though there was something off in her posture. Shuichi noticed that she was too tense for that to be genuine. The laugh also sounded shrill, like a panic. “Okay, okay. I’m Yadori Miki. I’m the Ultimate Figure Skater. I’m pleading not guilty.”

“Yeah maybe we should all just agree that we’re all going to say not guilty and maybe not do that.” Oda sighed, taking out a monocoin and flipped it. He watched it fall down to the ground and bent to pick it up. “So you all know me-”

“Pretend we don’t.” Aki cut through quickly.

Oda gave her a small look. “Okay I’ll humor you. Oda Touru. Ultimate Thief. I’ll steal anything so long as it benefits me somehow.”

“Annnd there’s our jackass.” Yuya happily gestured.

“Maybe not everyone’s not guilty after all.” Ajishi gritted her teeth. “Ah, right. Forgive me.” She cleared her throat and adjusted herself and her posture. Shuichi had to admire how quickly she threw on her persona. “My name is Ajishi Misa and I’m a chemist.”

“Ougai Eiji.” The doctor quietly murmured next to her. “I’m a doctor. We should try to remain objective while we’re on trial.”

“We’re not...always going to go around the circle introducing ourselves right?” A boy asked. He wore the same sort of uniform the thief did, but his had a bit more of a flair to it. It was fitted loose on him and Shuichi felt like all he was missing was the cape. “I’m only stalling, I'm sorry. My name is Nakaji Katsuji. I’m the Ultimate Actor.”

“Ultimate could be murderer got it.” Shimahara deadpanned.

“Now, now.” Rantaro quickly held his hands up. “Let’s not get into a fight. We’re all in the same boat here. My name is Amami Rantaro. I’m the Ultimate Adventurer.” He looked over at Kokai. “Your turn.”

“I’m Kokai Seijo. I’m a falconer.” Kokai nervously adjusted his gloves. “I’m na a murderer eider.”

“So now it’s my turn right?!” Shirogane asked. “My name is Shirogane Tsumugi. My talent is being the Ultimate Cosplayer. I’m not surprised if no one remembers me.”

“You’re right. No idea who you are.” Shimahara deadpanned.

“Well you didn’t have to be so mean about it...but I get it.” Shirogane winced.

“Why didn’t anyone think to kill you off is a mystery.” A girl with blonde hair spoke up. Shuichi really did try to rack his brians, the familiarity of her just bothered him sometimes. “My name is Akamatsu Kazue. I’m the Ultimate Violinist. Let’s solve this mystery together.”

“Horrible catch phrase.” It was a teasing tone and a gentle smile that graced that sentence. The boy had on a heavy utility belt and it was full of different kinds of equipment. His hair was all over the place, and he looked to be in the same boat as Yuya when it came to burns. “So formally I’m Gonoji Yoshitaka, but you guys can call me Yoshi-kun. I don’t care.”

“That leaves me. I’m Kai Yako. I’m the Ultimate Singer.” Kai mused, shifting on his feet.

“Oh. Right I was supposed to say that I was the Ultimate Electrician. Sorry.” Yoshi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Now that we got that all squared away, and it’s on record.” Rantaro spoke up, “We should start by talking about the obvious.”

Ougai straightened his tie. “To slit someone’s throat effectively, you would go from ear to ear with the head tilted downwards to expose more veins. Tilting it up, you expose the knife to different obsticals and instead of making a fast clean death, you made the victim suffer and you fuck up the kill. You don’t look dramatic. You look like an amateur. We can rule out myself and Ajishi automatically for it if that’s the case.” Ougai paused. “Also there were some defensive wounds that were on Chatani-san’s body. Indicating that there was a struggle.”

“Okay so we’re dissing the culprit before we even start, cool.” Oda drawled. “But sorry doctor and chemistry teacher, but I think you two shouldn’t count yourselves out just yet. We know the murder weapon was a scapal. Therefore it was one of yours. I’m thinking the doctor did it. Anyone else?”

“What would the motive be? The flashback light?”  Yuya tugged on her sleeves nervously, winging and flapping them around, nearly hitting her peers that were next to her. “I mean, we don’t even know if it’s real or not. Monokuma could’ve just said to throw all of us off.”

“Yes, but that does not mean that someone else would believe the lie.” Ajishi adjusted her goggles over her eyes. “Let’s hypothesize that someone’s motive is the flashback light. Let’s hypothesize that they believed that there was a memory in there that they wanted back.”

“If we’re accusing me first, I can easily say three things. One, I have an alibi. Two, if I’m going to murder someone why would I pick the most obvious weapon that can be pointed out to me? I know more ways to murder someone and get away with it than to do a botched job and leave my own work too behind. Three, I don’t care about the flashback light. I don’t care about my lost memory. If anyone should be worried about their memories, it’s Mayumi-san who doesn’t have a single thing to her name.” Ougai gestured over towards Aki, who was mindless chewing on her finger.

She froze like a deer in headlights, and bit at her nail a little harder, but otherwise stayed silent.

“Why woul’ she go af’er Chadani dough?” Kokai frowned, tugging on his gloves and keeping his gaze down. “We dun dalk da her much.”

“If she was going to go after anyone, it’d be Oda-kun you’re right.” Akamatsu said, as she held her pointer finger up in the air. She had another hand on her hip and she immediately turned the conversation. “So we need to start looking at people who are close to Chatani-chan and who would want to hurt her.”

“So basically all of us and none of all all at the same time.” Oda rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could. “Because none of us are really all that chummy with each other, violin.”

“She’s the weakest member here though, isn’t she?” Yadori asked as she was redoing her hair, trying to pull it back into a nicer looking bun. Her hands were trembling, Shuichi noticed. She wasn’t trying to meet anyone’s gaze. If anything, she was trying to distract, but why? Shuichi covered his mouth with his hand, gazing on Yadori as though she could hold all of the answers. Maybe he was wrong, but...she was acting not herself for certain.

“Where was she during the investigation?” Kokichi murmured and Shuichi felt his heart plummet down into his stomach, icing his veins in the cold realization that Yadori was a suspect. She had acted weird when Ajishi confronted her classmates about her missing things too. Too stiff. Too afraid. Oda was too calm, too certain. He didn’t care that he was an accomplice. Only the murderer was going to get punished. He could do whatever he wanted and help whoever he pleased.

It made Shuichi wonder if Oda had a bigger part to play than the “Ultimate Thief”.

“Wow.” Tsumugi drawled, looking insulted. “That’s just plain rude right there. Chatani-senpai’s a strong person. Both inside and out. You didn’t know this, but when Chatani-senpai writes any kind of manga, she does her research. From experimenting with eating disorders to actually going to the gym and working out to be as buff as she can as a female, and asking male bodybuilders to pose for her to practice the anatomy. She isn’t someone that’d just lay down and take a hit.”

“Eating disorders aren’t exactly what you’d consider strength here.” Shuichi muttered, mostly to himself. He heard Kokichi snort beside him and he felt his cheeks flush. He was used to being by himself while he watched the show. He forgot that sometimes he mumbled to himself to get the gears rolling in his mind. That being said though, Tsumugi had a bit of a point. Her determination and perseverance would be considered a strength. If she hadn’t died, she would’ve made it a lot longer than she had, that was for certain.

“Is anyone else disturbed that she actually goes that far for her writing or is that just me?” Oda asked, looking around at the trial circle.

“I mean, I’m a performer.” Nakajima said, picking against his tie as he undid it and was re-doing it. “I also have to determine what weight I have to be if I’m going to be an accurate representation of my character. I destroyed my body in many ways and I recovered it in many ways.”

“I’m not much but a singer, but even my appearance gets me a side-eye every now and then.” Kai rubbed his neck.

Maeji shifted in her stand, “I mean, I was once told to lose some weight if I wanted to be caught easier during the pyramids or any of the tosses, but I never took them into too much consideration. It was a...thought though I’ll...admit that.”

Shimahara just sighed, “Yeah. All of us have body issues. I did the same. It’s stupid. Can we press on now?”

“Dear god, please get therapy, all of you.” Oda’s complexation paled.

“One of us cannot, she’s dead.” Ajishi frowned at Oda. “And also please stop being so insensitive.”

“We’re getting off topic.” Rantaro quickly intervened. “We’re not getting anywhere if we get sidetracked. So we know that whoever killed Chatani-san didn’t know how to slit a throat. We know that they managed to get into Ougai-kun’s lab and get the weapon. We also found a bottle of the mixture Ajishi-san told us would make a knockout gas rather than a poisonous one.

“To be on the safe side,” Ougai commented, “My lab is never locked.”

Everyone stared at him. Rantaro folded his arms and gave him a small look. “You mean to tell me that anyone can go in and grab what they can from your lab?”

“My lab is a medical facility. For me to close it could be hazardous to anyone. I want there to be free reign in case someone gets hurt or needs something and I’m not awake to provide. That being said, I do normally keep my door unlocked too.” Ougai explained. “So that if someone does have a need for me, they can get me as fast as possible. I’m used to not sleeping a lot, so I’m easy to alert.”

“Do we know when Chatani-chan died?” Aki asked, her voice wavering as she tore another piece of skin from her nails. Shuichi watched in muted horror as blood dripped down between her fingertips.

Ougai also looked pained, “Please stop chewing your nails, Mayumi-san, you can’t play guitar like that. Also...I can only give an estimate. I’m no way a coroner. My theory is that Chatani-san met her demise around twelve ten or twelve thirty.”

“So a thirty minute chat.” Oda mused, “What would they be talking about that could take so long?”

“Girls are like gossips. They never shut up.” Shimahara shrugged.

“I knew Oda-kun was a dick, but you, sir, are an asshole.” Yuya frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “Maybe you two should go find a room after this is over and get some of that aggression out.”

“Fucking ex-”

“We’re getting sidetracked again!” Rantaro snapped. “Will you guys cut it out, this is serious. If we don’t figure it out, all of us are dead.”

“Is that really a bad thing though?” Yadori asked, looking apprehensive. “I mean…we’re forced to die anyway. Isn’t this...quicker?”

“Wow.” Yuya stared at Yadori. “You have no balls.”

Yadori spluttered.

“I’m kinda sad really. I thought we were friends.” Yuya pouted, kicking at the stand and placing her hands behind her back. Her eyes looking downcast and her expression clearly betrayed. “I thought that you liked hanging out with me.”

“O-of course I do! I just…”

“Would rather want us dead than alive is all.” Aki muttered. Her finger was bleeding profusely now and she was already going on to the next one.

Shuichi couldn’t remember a time where Aki actively bit her nails. She was always so careful to make sure that they were short, but...had that been to resist the temptation of biting them? He was going to have to figure out how to ask about that habit to his uncle and his aunt. He couldn’t imagine Danganronpa being able to implement new habits, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure what this game was capable of.

They stole everyone’s memory and forcibly removed Aki’s for everything including her name. He couldn’t imagine it just stopped there either.

“Da no’ said dat dey were gonna mee’ up a’ midnigh’.” Kokai broke the conversation, his voice a slow thoughtful drawl. “We know dat dey had da abli-lie da use da chemical da knock ou’ Chadani-san.” He pulled the gloves. “We know dat dey dun kno how da kill eider.”

“You know I don’t know if this would help but here’s my theory.” Ougai suddenly snapped his fingers. “The culprit and Chatani-san both agreed to meet up at the classroom at midnight. The culprit already knew that Chatani only had few friends and therefore wouldn’t be missed. They used the knockout chemical mixture to make the death painless as possible, only misjudged on how to properly slit a throat. The throat is slit and the dead is done.”

“So we’re thinking the chemical was used on Chatani-san. Okay so we’re thinking that this was a mercy killing.” Akamatsu mused, coming back some of her hair as she looked to the side. “God, my sister’s much better at figuring out mysteries like this. I just can’t come up with anyone that’d go out of their way to hurt her.”

“Alibis then.” Rantaro nodded, “We should get those cleared out so that we can figure out who we need to start looking at.”

“Hold on a second.” Oda broke the conversation, looking at Rantaro with a deep frown on his face. “Why aren’t we questioning Mayumi-chan?”

“What do you mean?” Rantaro deadpanned.

“She’s the one with the lost memory, right?” Oda gestured. “We know that the flashback light would be the motive. Why are we ruling her out?”

“I never said that she was ruled out.” Rantaro frowned at Oda, his arms tightly folded against his chest. “What I can determine though is that Mayumi-chan wouldn’t go after Chatani on the mere fact that neither of them are close.”

“We’re stuck in a killing game. Should closeness really be a reason here?” Yadori frowned.

“Then why hasn’t anyone gone after Kokai-kun? Shirogane-san? Mayumi-chan if she’s such an easy target.” Rantaro gestured. “It’s because they’re all connected to someone yeah? A little bit of a threat. Shirogane-san and Chatani-san were probably the only friends that actively hung out all the time.”

“I don’t recall anyone asking me to hang out as of late besides Amami-kun, Mayumi-chan, and Kokai-kun.” Shirogane nodded. “As plain as I am, I’m not surprised that I’d be ignored in the background, but it was nice to see that Chatani-senpai saw a fellow fan and was willing to let me pick her brain so to speak.”

Kokichi let out a suffering sigh, “They’re going around in circles.”

“Yadori-san isn't helping that fact and neither is Oda-kun.” Shuichi murmured, watching the trial dissolve back into disaster. “Amami-kun’s on the right track though. Killers aren’t likely to kill strangers. They’ll kill people they’re familiar with because it’s easier to figure out routine. Getting trust means it’s easy to get them to do what you want them to do.”

“What’s your big detective brain thinking then?” Kokichi asked and Shuichi could feel Kokichi’s gaze on him.

“I think that it’s weird that Oda-kun stole the chemicals. I think it’s weird that Yadori acted strangely in the breakfast hall.” Shuichi murmured. “I wonder...Chatani-san had the chemicals in her possession. She had it there that night when she met up with her killer. I bet it was a struggle and a fight to get both murder weapons away from each other. Chatani-san isn’t strong physically and was most likely overpowered. She was easy to knock out and kill after that.”

“Psychology says that memory and personality are one in the same. If the brain is tempered with in any direction, the personality can change with it.” Aki agreed, speaking around a bleeding middle finger. Shuichi and Kokichi both stared at the screen as everyone else looked over at her. She continued to chew as she spoke, her words muffled against skin and blood. “Closeness isn’t a factor, I agree with Yadori-chan. We can’t rule any one of us out. If we were out in the real world then yeah, it’d be weird for a stranger to go up and murder someone, but that’s not what’s happening here.” She took her finger out of her mouth, blood lingered on her lips as she looked at everyone. “So here’s my thought. I find it weird and strange that Chatani-chan’s body has defensive wounds. While I know some of us are performers and have skills in makeup, I think that we should all offer our own bodies to show whether or not we have the bruises or scratches. Of course, I can always out you now if you’d prefer.”

“What do you mean “out”?” Oda asked, folding his arms.

“We know that Chatani-chan wasn’t late for the meeting, she was right on time because the murder took place around twelve ten to twelve thirty. Without an actual coroner to say anything about it, we can only go by a guess or two. I’m sure Shirogane-san can confirm that Chatani-chan wouldn’t be late to any kind of meeting because mangaka’s are always under strict schedules. Right?”

“That is right!” Shirogane proclaimed, looking excited. “Mangaka authors are used to working towards extreme deadlines, very rarely do they miss. Therefore, the meeting went exactly as planned.”

“What does this have to do...with anything?” Kai asked, looking perplexed. He wasn’t the only one that was lost. Even Rantaro was giving her a mild look.

“Because if the murder was about the flashback light, we would’ve found it in either Chatani-chan’s lab or her room. Both were negative.” Aki explained, looking at Yako. “Which means that’s not the motive. But...if I recall from all the meetings we had. Chatani-chan would always mention that a murder could happen. In particular, the conversation about the chemicals.”

“Now that you mention it,” Rantaro placed his hands on his hips, looking peeved. “I do recall Oda-kun getting upset with you about calling him out for stealing it.”

“Now wait just a-”

Aki barreled on, ignoring Oda’s protests. “Who else acted weird during that conversation, Amami-kun?”

“Yadori-san.” Shuichi breathed just as Rantaro spoke the name. The figure skater was always antsy around the mangaka. Especially when Chatani would mention that there was a method of killing, or that the chemicals and the imbalance of them would be a waste to use. “That makes sense.”

“You and Aki-chan go like seven different hoops and I feel like I’m stuck on level one world one.” Kokichi pouted a little. “How did you get Yadori from all of that?! There’s literally no proof unless…”

“Kokai-kun probably has it. Either that or Aki-chan is hiding her own piece of evidence. This isn’t a real court. Not everyone is going to want to show things off. They’re going to want to put the killer to the back of the wall and force them to see the truth of their crimes.” Shuichi gripped Kokichi’s hand. “This isn’t a game of who's going to go to jail. This is whether or not they survive for the next several hours.”

“But I never really spoke to Chatani-chan so...why would it be me?” Yadori frowned. “How was I acting strange to get the suspicion?”

“Because every time Chatani-san mentioned the flashback light or the chemicals, you tensed up as though you were waiting for her to act on it.” Rantaro continued. “You also keep looking away from us. I mean all of  us aren’t exactly thrilled at looking at each other in the eye and accusing each other of killing one of our classmates, but you also said something that threw all of us for a loop. You thought it was a good idea for all of us to suffer and die.”

“I...I was only thinking-”

“That’s some balls right there. Really big cajones.” Shimahara narrowed his eyes at Yadori, and Shuichi watched her cower. “Because if it was the other way around and someone else had said that would you agree?”

“I just…”

“So we weren’t friends.” Yuya sounded tearful. “You wanted us dead so that you could go and get the flashback light, is that what you were after?”

“Chika-chan no, please.” Yadori begged, looking at her friend, tears springing to the corner of her eyes. “That’s not true. None of what they’re saying is true. I have an alibi. I was asleep like everyone else, I promise. I promise. I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I was just trying to protect you. I swear.”

“So you did hurt someone.” Rantaro watched Yadori freeze on the stand. Horror started to carve itself around her face as she realized that she dug her own hole trying to assure Yuya that she wouldn’t go out of her way to hurt someone.

“You don’t get it.” Yadori whispered. “You don’t understand. You guys don’t…” She took a deep breath. “If you think you’re so clever, then come out and accuse me. You don’t have any proof. Everything you're saying is speculation. THIS IS BULLSHIT!” She suddenly screamed, gripping onto the stand like a lifeline. Shuichi felt himself back up a little away from the laptop, staring at her in surprise. The composure that she was was breaking at the seams. “I’D NEVER HURT CHATANI-CHAN. NEVER EVER. Yes I was worried about her being a murderer. Yes I went to check on her to make sure that never happened. BUT DIDN’T DO A DAMN THING TO HER! IF ANYONE SHOULD BE WORRIED, IT WOULD BE WHOEVER CHATANI-CHAN WAS GOING TO GO AFTER! SHE HAD THE BOTTLE OF THE MIXTURE IN HER POSSESSION!”

“But how do you know that?” Rantaro demanded, not daring to let Yadori escape his gaze. “None of us knew who had the chemicals in whose possession. You were there that night.”

“IF I WAS THERE THAT NIGHT THEN WOULDN’T MY CLOTHES BE BLOODIED?” Yadori shrieked. “HOW ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY GIVE ME SOME PROOF BEFORE YOU START COMING AFTER ME?!”

“Oh is that it?” Oda asked casually as he decided to fling a piece of fabric into the middle of the circle. Said fabric, Shuichi noticed, was one of Yadori’s leotards. The bright blue soaked in red. “Oops. My bad. I guess I should’ve been a little nicer and handed it over to everyone before this whole trial.”

“Where did you get that?” Yadori hissed. “You’re trying to set me up you-”

“I don’t like it when people try to toss me under buses. I don’t particularly care that you went off and killed Chatani-chan, but I thought it was cute you decided to try to assure us that you wouldn’t “hurt” anyone at the time very clearly admitting that you did. Also, I thought it’d be fun to watch you sweat a little. You almost got away too. Shame.” Oda taunted, looking completely smug. “Maybe next time I’ll team up with the investigator squad. They make things so much more interesting than you trying to act innocent.”

Shuichi watched Yadori’s expression break, and he knew there was no way for her to recover from this. Rantaro took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, “Here’s how this all went down.” Rantaro mused. “Yadori-san got concernend after the fifth or so time Chatani-san mentioned a murder happening or taking place or even hinting that a murder could have occured. She decided to ask Chatani-san to come meet her in the classroom at midnight. Yadori-san knew she might be dealing with an unstable individual so she snuck into Ougai-kun’s infirmary lab and stole a scalpel from his place. Considering that Ougai-kun does plenty of patrols around the campus, it wasn’t hard. She waited until midnight and at first tried to resolve things peacefully.”

Rantaro looked each of his classmates in the eye as he tried to sum up the case. “But Chatani-san was prepared too. She was paranoid that she might be the next victim or that someone would find her as an easy target. Using the chemicals that she asked Oda-kun to steal, and listened to Ajishi-san’s advice, she was going to knock out her supposed culprit and get help. Somehow someway, it became a struggle. Whether Chatai-san saw the scalpel or had an idea that Yadori-san might be her culprit, or that Yadori-san assumed the bottle and the cloth held the lethal amount of chemicals inside, we don’t know for sure and maybe won’t ever know.”

He folded his arms tightly as he stared right at Yadori. “But it became a struggle, didn’t it? You guys fought and you managed to get the cloth first. You could have left her there, and continued on, but no. You used the scalpel, and tried to slit her throat. Either you were too overzealous, or you really had no idea what to do. You ran off after the deed was done. You weren’t at breakfast this morning because you were trying to find a way to discard the bloodied clothes. However, while everyone was trying to find Chatani-san, Oda-kun came across your dumping grounds and decided to hold onto it for whatever reason. You joined up later and helped us find Chatani-san. All in all, the clues point to you, Yadori Miki, the Ultimate Figure Skater.”

“Was that….accurate?” Kokichi whispered breathlessly.

“More accurate than I can say.” Shuichi agreed. “Yadori-san was the murderer.”

“Jesus.”

“You were the murderer of Chatani Shinko, the Ulitmate Mangaka.” Rantaro concluded. “It was...you this entire time.”

“.....I thought she was going to kill me.” Yadori sobbed quietly, falling apart in the witness stand. “I didn’t know what to do, I panicked. I thought about getting help, but I was afraid to turn my back. What if she was faking. What if, what if…” She trailed off. “You guys wouldn’t get it. I have so much waiting for me at home. I...I was going to be in the Olympics. I was….I was going to be someone. Someone famous. Someone that no one could look down upon ever again! I worked so hard...I worked so hard…”

“Yadori-san…” Yuya whispered.

“I killed her. I stabbed her in the throat and then realized I could have slit it and I was trying to fix that mistake only it was too late.” Yadori whimpered, covering her eyes in shame, still sobbing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Monokuma cackled from his stand. “Well now it’s voting time! Don’t go picking the wrong one now!”

Shuichi held his breath as he watched the votes get counted. He looked over at the chat log, seeing how many people were commenting about how they were kind of disappointed that Yadori didn’t make it through. Many of them were poking holes in the discussion that was happening, making fun of everyone for one mistake or another. Yet that wasn’t why most of the people in the chat were there. The trials were just like popcorn. A small snack to the bigger finale.

Monokuma hit a red button with a small hammer and everyone paused with a breath as an old fashioned 8-bit screen appeared. A small miniature Yadori standing in the middle of Monokuma’s path before being dragged off. The loading screen disappeared just as a metal grip attached itself to Yadori’s neck and physically hauled her onto a skating rink.

Everyone stared in shock as Yadori was in the middle of an ice rink. A spotlight flashed on top of her in a darkened room. At first it was peaceful. Yadori skated as fast as she could towards the exit door and yanked it open. At first she was greeted with a dark hallway that was still covered in ice. She was just about to move when she was suddenly shoved to the side and a bunch of monokuma bears appeared onto the rink, skating and recreating some of the twirls and catches.

She was about to try to skate through the herd of many Monokuma cubs, but she lost her footing and slipped onto the ice rink. Everyone watched in muted shock as she was being run over and sliced by ice skates. Her screams were muted, but if they were anything like the one she let out in the trial, Shuichi didn’t have to use his imagination. While the monokuma bears were busy tearing her body apart by thinking she was part of the ice rink, the camera momentarily disappeared and showed the real Monokuma at a thermostat, turning the heat up so that the ice rink would start to melt.

Soon enough the monokuma bears got bored and disappeared back into the hallway. She was left on the rink, bloodied and cut. She slowly got herself up on her knees, blood splattered onto the ice as she started to get up onto her feet. Her clothes were torn in a way that looked a bit fanservicey for Shucihi to be comfortable with. She was holding herself up as blood continued to spill down her body. She wobbled and tried to skate towards a different area, trying to keep towards the wall of the rink, a trail of blood following her wake. Whatever she was holding must have had an electrical current going through it, because she was zapped and was forced to let go.

Uncertain where to go, and thinking the other side might be safer, Yadori slowly started to skate her way painfully towards the otherside.

“Oh no.” Kokichi whispered.

She got to the middle of the rink. The ice was thin enough that it cracked ominously underneath her weight. She was in too much pain to try to skate faster and she fell into the water. Monokuma quickly turned the thermostat down…

All anyone could see was red blood going to the surface of the ice, and a small fist banging at the bottom of the ice for a while before sinking downwards.

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {22}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter:21. Nonchalant

A/N:

Direct continuation of the previous chapter. I'm really bad at updating I had this done since I posted the last chapter, but just kept pushing off the update. I have two other chapters. IDK how soon I should post them, cause I don't want to spam them.

22. Waltz of the Snowflakes

Elsa was appeased knowing that in the future, even if Hans didn't continue to stay in the castle, he would still want to put down roots somewhere nearby, remaining somewhere between the castle and the sea. Not straying far from her, staying at her beck and call. The idea eased more than her mind, it really seemed to warm her heart as well. 

 Her heart had been feeling a little lighter that night. It was a strange sensation to have it be constantly aflutter. She didn't quite fathom why the feeling seemed to be lingering longer than it usually did. Though she just thought it was more peculiar than particularly unpleasant. Her heart's flutter was not the most abnormal thing she was presently experiencing either. Stranger still was the sudden surge in her magic, that desperately wanted to break free. A tingling extruded from her extremities, yet the unexpected swirling of magic within her didn't feel like any of the normal outburst that often occurred when she got anxious. This burst of power was somewhat different, it seemed more euphoric, if she had to make a comparison she'd consider it to be closer to the feeling of when she let it go for the first time in forever, more than anything else. The abrupt sensation scouring through her body puzzled her a bit because she didn't understand why now? Most of the time her powers started acting up was when she felt more negative emotions, currently she was feeling quite the contrary, in fact she was rather content, but she didn't think that alone would warrant her powers to swell inside her.

 Elsa had a soft smile on her face. She had been curiously looking down at her hands. 

 "Yeah, I-Oh?" she began to respond, but she suddenly stopped when she spotted a snowflake slowly drift by her nose. Elsa looked up and saw that a small flurry had formed above her which was starting to softly drop snowflakes around her. This was new. "That's...strange. What is going on?'' She commented pointing up a bit stunned at what was occurring, being surprised by her own powers was something that didn't happen quite often. Her icy blues were opened wide, transfixed on the abnormal snowfall. "I have absolutely no idea why my powers decided to be unruly right now."

Hans grimaced a little at the thought. 

 "Should I be worried, your Majesty? I seem to recall the last time they got unruly was a rather painful experience for all of us." He laughed a little nervously and shifted somewhat uncomfortably to give her space. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he was reminded that she should be afraid of him.

"Hm? No, I don't think so, it's nothing that drastic," she assured, she flicked her wrist and the flurry vanished. "I think I have it under control." 

 Elsa turned facing towards the window and began to test her control over her powers. She quickly conjured a variety of forms which she quickly transfigured. She began the release of her pent-up magic with a snowman much like Olaf which collapsed and reconfigured to a horse, followed by a replica of her Ice Castle that then turned in on of the Arendelle Castle. After seeing enough of her perfect precision over her magic she let it dematerialized.

 She hummed in confusion. "That was rather odd, I know my powers sometimes seep out when I feel anxious, but the thing is I didn't think I was feeling that way at all, also it usually tends to be ice not snow." Elsa was perplexed, she pressed her lips. She might have thought it wasn't due fatigue but she didn't think that was the case either. She really was clueless.

"Hmm, ice for danger, snow for... something else? Something lighter?" Hans proposed, perplexed and intrigued as he leaned back to watch her work upside-down. He grunted a little and righted himself when she was done, finding he couldn't process anything upside-down, anyway. He seized upon a strange idea, and pushed himself to his feet. In spite of his drinking earlier, he seemed perfectly steady. He'd had some time to process the alcohol, after all. He offered her his hand. 

 "Perhaps it only makes sense to women who've known me in more pleasant circumstances, but I've just realized we've known each-other for a rather long time now, and I'm not certain I've ever asked you for a dance. That's not very like me." He mused. He wondered if that would change the ice as well. He wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, but somewhere deep down, it felt like that made sense. Dancing would illuminate things. He often liked to dance and think at the same time.

Elsa thought Hans' hypothesis about the snow seemed rather reasonable, but she wondered why something similar hasn't occurred sooner. Dance? The invitation caught her off guard, bringing out a blush on her cheeks yet again. She gawked at him, from his offered hand to his contemplative face. Elsa couldn't determine whether his proposition or the snow were the far stranger between the two. Though she decided she'd take his suggestion as part of the tipsy foolishness he'd warned her about earlier. 

 "Um, you have not," she responded. "Though I'm uncertain what that has to do with anything," she started in confusion, yet her own hand already seemed to be hesitantly dancing to determine whether or not she should take his hand. "Also I'm not much of a dancer, I'm certain I'm quite bungling at it."

"Not a thing." He assured sweetly. "Unless it does and I don't know. You don't have to be good, I like a simple box-step. Trust me to lead and you'll do fine." He assured, never wavering in his offer. "I'm in the habit of dancing often. There were always maids around to dance with at home, so it was a good way to pass the time, hold a conversation, pretend everything was alright." He assured, at least he admitted the truth; it was pretending.

Elsa teetered a bit more, she paused, looking him over one more time, intently gazing into his eyes for a long moment. 

 "Alright," she said softly as she gently grasped his warm hand with her own. Elsa figured dancing was something a bit more formal anyway, an activity royals partook in often, even if she herself wasn't one of them. Besides, they had certainly already been a lot more intimate than that before, so taking up on his offer couldn't possibly hurt, could it? He was also her friend now, surely that's something they do together. Regardless of all the logical reasoning (or excuses as others may prefer to see them) the reality was that a part of her strongly wanted to feel his ever emanating warmth against her skin once again.

Hans smiled a little to himself and positioned their arms as he walked her out a little ways from the bed. Just as well that it was simple, he was still injured and couldn't exactly do a whole lot of activity. He hummed a tune with the appropriate rhythm and held her close while he led, starting slow for her and picking up to match the music as she got the pattern. 

 "There we are. An easy box-step." He sounded pleased with that, continuing at the same pace, as constant and inevitable as the tide.

Elsa did struggle a bit at first, stumbling and not perfectly matching the pattern, but with Hans taking the lead and his gentle guidance she seemed to be getting the hang of it fairly quickly. She had been pretty preoccupied at first trying to focus all her attention on her feet, but now she had gotten more control over her motor skills and could actually look at him. 

 "I do beg your pardon if I step on your toes too hard, but I do think I'm finding my footing."

"Oh, you're not the first person I've guided through the steps, and you've had a little more practice than some of the maids." He assured her, not minding at all. "I'm a tough young man, I can handle being trodden on once or twice." He joked, carrying on the pace without worry, and just enjoying the rhythm of the movement. It wasn't often that he shared something from home that wasn't angry or depressing. It was just a nice thing he held onto and brought wherever he went. An odd habit he enjoyed. A simple box-step for no good reason other than that it was enjoyable.

"Only a bit of practice, not much though, definitely not the adequate amount that a Queen should know. Certainly ill-prepared for any royal social gathering. Luckily I don't have to partake in those if I don't desire," she assured. "Hopefully you don't get trodden thrice I'm afraid to find out what happens then," she joked back with a giggle. 

 Their dancing had made yet another bittersweet memory re-emerge, it was her dancing with her father when she was a little girl, stepping on his toes being half his size. Happy memories with her parents were so few and far between she often wondered if they had just been lovely dreams she made up in her solitude.

"Everyone misses a few things they ought to know, there's not enough time in one's youth to get all that information at once." Hans assured, with unusual amounts of forgiveness for himself. He said it as if to brush away her anxieties and shield her from them. "At any rate, you're doing a lovely job. You've got the grace to dance, just not the training. Never mind it, it will come." He assured her, though confident for no particular reason except to make her feel better.

 "That's for certain, might as well learn how to do some of that stuff now," Elsa smiled. "Thank you, probably wouldn't be as lovely without an excellent instructor." She complimented. Elsa thought the two of them just dancing for no particular reason was rather nice. Just being in each other's company always felt right, more so when they shared pleasant moments (which unexpectedly involved much warmth and caresses exchanged between an Ice Queen and a quondam Prince).

"It's surprising, I must've danced with half the girls in the Isles by now, just by fact of how many maids we hire. But I don't tell everybody I play the harp. Funny how one can get things out of order, going to a new place." He observed, smiling slightly as he danced with her. He hummed again, a slow, perhaps even romantic song. It had to be slow, starting to learn, every song felt much faster, but that didn't ease the romantic tension any. Romantic tension that Hans didn't seem to mind, if he noticed it. "Hmm. Is that so? I guess that makes me part of the lucky few. You know I'd still very much love to hear you play for me, and there's a harp waiting to be used in the music room, most likely untuned, but it's there," she reminded him warmly. "But perhaps not right now, but someday soon would be nice," she encouraged with a sweet smile and softness in her eyes.

"Certainly, I'd love to play for you. Any time you and I are both in, perhaps a tea time, if you're not occupied elsewhere." He proposed lightly. 'elsewhere' being Anna, no doubt. "I suppose it's only fair, I'm one of the lucky few who has seen you with your hair down, I've no doubt." He glanced to her hair, with something all too fond in his eyes. Perhaps it was good that his hands were occupied with the form of the dance, else he might have tried to touch it. That surely would have been... bad?

"Of course, tea time might actually be the most opportune time to have a rendezvous, I'm seldom occupied during tea time, I usually spend them alone in the library, so I would definitely enjoy it if you joined me and spend one together," she eagerly assured him. Elsa became a bit more bashful with his observation of her hair, especially with the way he looked at her with his green gleaming eyes. She slightly averted her face from meeting his gaze directly, bringing one of her crimsoning cheeks near her shoulder, yet a smile stayed on her face. Suddenly, another soft sprinkling of snowflakes started to surround, not just Elsa, but the both of them.

Hans couldn't help but smile a little at the snowflakes. "I thought a dance might draw a little flurry out of you." He hummed. But he wasn't sure yet what they meant. Just that they were a good thing. "That, or I'm very wrong and it's a sign you're coming down with a... cold." He giggled a little at the pun he only realized was there as he was telling it. "Oh there's snow way to talk to me without puns eventually, I'm afraid." He had been spending time with Kristoff and Olaf. If anything he now had more horrible puns.

Elsa was still bemused by the snowflakes produced by her unpredictable powers. She looked at them with wonder trying to make sense of what they meant, but still had no clue besides recognizing that it was somehow linked to her current bliss. 

 She laughed a little at his pun. "Oh, I don't get colds and even if I did I think you'd snow." She thought it was rather silly, but that didn't stop her from trying.

Hans laughed a little more at her returned pun. He looked different when he smiled with his eyes, hints of crow's feet that showed only in the rare event that he was genuinely that happy. 

 "Should we stop, or should I go for 'Icy what you did there'?" He teased. "Ah, it's late, isn't it? Or perhaps early, by now? Should I stop distracting you before bed?" Yet they still danced. He seemed to dance by habit, hardly noticing he was doing it.

"It would indeed be wise to get some rest before daybreak,"she said softly, yet was reluctant to let go, not knowing when they'd be able to share another warm moment like this again.

Hans slowed the dance all the same.

 "Another dance another time?" He proposed gently. "I can see I still have some healing to do before I take on the guard training full time. I'll have a little time." He suggested. He smiled a little to himself, perhaps realizing how that sounded. Almost as if he would be going away to war, though it was truthfully not far a walk from the castle doors to the guard's barracks. But, he knew she was a busy woman.

"Perhaps," she smiled. "This has been rather nice and I could also really use the practice." And there it was again, adding some other justification, she just couldn't seem to allow herself to admit that she wanted to do it solely for her own pleasure. 

 Even though Hans wasn't going too far once he healed, she still wanted to cherish and indulge herself with more of these warming moments. She wanted to enjoy this freedom of spending time together, since it wasn't going to last forever.

He nodded, and finally let her go, if slowly. He was as reluctant for her to leave as she was. 

 "I shall see you when you next want my presence, I suppose." He hummed, but he said it with a little smile. He liked it when she visited. She had asked herself if she was treating him like a bird in a cage to sing for her-- but she had never thought about whether he liked to be her songbird.

The snowflakes ceased, yet she hadn't been paying so much attention to them anymore. 

 "I suppose so," She affirmed, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, with her now free hand. "I guess, I'll see me, wait no, I meant you, ah anyway, I'll see you fairly soon then." Elsa assured with a slight stumble with her words, similar to how she'd done earlier with her feet. "Possibly tomorrow if I'm able." Of course, she was talking about finding time rather than asking permission. She had already been keeping her promise (to the best of her ability) of coming to visit him, if only for a short amount of time. So there was no doubt she'd be back, but she liked to reassure him anyway.

Hans nodded, looking hopeful and encouraged about it. 

As soon as Elsa left, he returned to the bed, to sleep almost instantly. He'd had quite a busy day, after all. But he would sleep comfortable, thinking of all the positive things-- but especially of the snow.

Elsa had gone to sleep much later than she intended, she laid in bed, her mind lost in contemplation. You'd think sleep would come easy after such a lovely evening with both Anna and Hans, and perhaps it would have if something else wasn't tormenting her thoughts. 

 What kept her mind restless was the mystery surrounding why her magic had been acting up that night. It had only caused her powers to amplify and an involuntary snowfall, two things that weren't at all bad, just unexpected. 

 It had also been a different sensation than prior times her magic had been rowdy and that was a bit disconcerting. Something like that had never happened to her before, even blissfully being with Anna, which she believed bore the closest resemblance to what she felt with Hans. Yet with Anna she only felt a warmth that flowed from her heart, a melting sensation, but in a good way. That was not at all what had happened with Hans, she did feel something strange in her heart, but it wasn’t quite the same.

So that brought up the pressing question: Did the new outburst have something special to do with Hans? If so, what was so different? Why did it only happen with Hans and not with Anna too? She started thinking about what made her powers tick, she knew that both fear and love were catalysts that amplified her magic, she hadn't been feeling the former so that only left the latter. Love. Could love really be involved in what caused the outburst? She was certainly fond of Hans, there was no doubt about that, he was her friend now, but could it be she felt something more than amiable affinity? Could she maybe really...no, that'd be silly. Elsa brushed that thought away, perhaps she was overthinking things again, like she tended to. Whatever caused the occurrence Elsa decided it was best not to continue worrying about it that night and instead get some much needed rest.

[mandelene]

You once said you imagine Matthew suffering from asthma, didn't you? Could you write something in which Matthew tries to hide feeling unwell during a hike because he doesn't want to slow down the others (and then, Arthur's intervention and talk to make him understand that he needs to take care of himself and there's nothing bad if he can't keep the same pace as healthy people and so on)? Only if you feel like it, though. I understand this might hit a bit too close home...

You’ve got it, anon! I’m going to give Matthew moderate persistent asthma because that’s the type I have so it’s just easier for me to write. Sorry for the bias. xD 

This is the last drabble for today! Thank you guys for reading them! 

Pacing Yourself

Words: 1644

It’s not that Matthew doesn’t like physical activity.

Physical activity just doesn’t like him.

It doesn’t take very much at all to get his asthma to flare up. He’s at a point where he’s using his rescue inhaler twice a day, and that’s without regular exercise. 

If he’s going to be entirely honest, it’s mostly his own fault – he hasn’t been taking his preventer inhaler for over a month now, and his parents have no idea. Each morning and night, he goes into the bathroom and pretends to take a puff of medicine, spraying it into the air instead of actually inhaling it. He stopped taking it because it was giving him headaches and making him lose his voice. And well, if anyone finds out, he’ll be in a lot of trouble…

So, when his parents announce that they’re all going hiking, he’s not exactly looking forward to it.

He steathily takes two puffs of albuterol before they arrive at the hiking trail, hoping that’ll prep his lungs sufficiently for what’s to come. All he has to do is follow everyone else’s pace, and he doubts they’re going to go very fast, so he’ll be fine, surely. Dad and Papa aren’t that athletic to begin with.  

“Arthur, stop being ridiculous. Leave the backpack in the car. It’s going to be a hassle to carry.” 

“You won’t be saying that when you want an extra bottle of water or need bug spray,” Dad huffs at Papa, slinging the black backpack in question over his shoulders. “Ready? Lead the way.” 

Papa rolls his eyes, pulls out the map he printed out the night before, and starts guiding them down the trail. 

“Matthew, wait one second, love,” Dad calls out to him, and Matthew stops in his tracks with a frown. 

“Yeah?” 

“Just a gentle reminder that you should let us know if you need to stop and take a break at any point.” 

It makes Matthew furious to be treated like he’s fragile. “I’ll be fine.”  

“There’ll be a lot of pollen – did you take your antihistamine this morning?” 

“Yes,” he lies, blood boiling.

“And you have your rescue inhaler with you?”

“Yeah, I’m not a little kid. I’m thirteen.”

Dad raises a brow at him and looks like he’s going to reprimand him for his tone, but he simply says, “Okay – just wanted to make sure.” 

Matthew pointedly zips in front of Dad and starts walking alongside Alfred. They start off at a small incline, walking through a valley that leads up the mountain. Other families are milling about. A lot of the kids are younger than he is, and they seem to be managing just fine.  

Progressively, the dirt path becomes more rugged, and they have to start going up a steep set of rocks. The sun becomes almost completely blocked by the thick canopy of trees above him, and Matthew can see the dust, pollen, and bugs moving through the air in front of him. Suddenly, he feels very claustrophobic, and he can feel his body start to become fatigued. He takes a sip of water and keeps walking, assuring himself that he simply has to warm his body up to the idea of hiking and that the increasing tightness in his chest and mucus build-up in his throat and airways will go away.

After just twenty minutes, his lungs burn. It’s not fair – everyone else looks barely out of breath. He doesn’t see a single bead of sweat on his brother’s forehead. 

What is wrong with him? Is he really that much of a weakling? He can do better. He can be normal. He just has to push through it…No excuses. 

He clears his throat in an attempt to get rid of the blockade of mucus impeding his breathing. Dad is just behind him, and Alfred and Papa are a few yards ahead.  

“Are you all right, Matthew?” 

“Yes,” he says, but he feels the urge to cry. He’s not even sure he’s going to be able to make it to the end of the trail at this rate. “I’m fine.”   

To prove he’s strong, he jogs forward and tries to catch up to Alfred and Papa. He hops over a few large rocks, and leaves Dad in the distance, trying to separate himself from him as much as possible. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He’s got everything under control.

“Oh, hey, Mattie!” Alfred says when he finally makes it back to his side. “This is kinda fun, huh?” 

No. Not at all.

“Yeah, totally,” Matthew says with a forced smile. “Race you to the top?” 

“You’re on, bro!” 

“Mathieu, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Papa asks, but Matthew has already bounded onward with his twin, leaving his papa’s concerns to fall on deaf ears.

He’s able to keep up with Alfred’s quick pace for about five minutes. After that, his body starts giving out and his lungs feel like they're on fire. He starts panting as they reach a small clearing, and Alfred shoots him a concerned look.

“You okay?”

Matthew doubles over and braces his hands on his knees, now gasping for breath. He takes his rescue inhaler out of his pocket and takes two puffs, shaking.

Alfred puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder and shouts, “GUYS! MATT’S NOT FEELING WELL!”

Dad and Papa arrive on the scene, and both of them look extremely worried, which makes Matthew want to dissolve into a million pieces and disappear. He coughs freely now that he’s been caught and lets a few tears escape his eyes. Once again, he’s proven that he’s weak.

Dad sits him on a nearby boulder to rest and crouches down in front of him. “Did you take your inhaler, love?”

Matthew nods and angrily swipes at his eyes. He wants to die.  

Dad takes the backpack off of his shoulders, unzips it, and pulls out a stethoscope. 

“You brought your stethoscope into the woods?” Papa asks in disbelief.

“Of course, I did,” Dad huffs, putting the buds in his ears before setting the diaphragm on Matthew’s back. He listens for a moment and then instructs, “Take two more puffs of your inhaler for me, poppet.”

Matthew does as he’s told and coughs again, practically choking on the mucus build-up. Fortunately, the extra dose helps, and he’s able to regulate his breathing after a few more moments.

Dad places his stethoscope on his back again, seems satisfied with his findings, and says, “I need you to be completely honest with me – have you been taking your preventer medication?” 

“N-No,” Matthew admits before bursting into tears. “I hate the way it makes me feel.” 

Dad sighs, places his stethoscope back in his bag, and says, “You know it’s very important to take your medicine, Matthew. You could become seriously ill without it. And I told you that you shouldn’t push yourself. It’s okay to take breaks when you need to.”

“I didn’t want everyone waiting for me.“

“Don’t worry about others having to wait. You have to take care of yourself first, love, and if you need to stop, that’s completely fine. This isn’t a marathon,” Dad explains, brushing Matthew’s hair out of his eyes. “Your health is what’s most important.” 

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not,” Dad says firmly. “No one is going to think any less of you for setting your own pace.”

“Yes, they will!” Matthew shouts. “Everyone at school stares at me! Nobody wants me on their team at gym class because I suck! You don’t know what that’s like! And it bothers me every day! I can’t do anything normally!” 

Dead silence fills the clearing. Alfred and Papa uncomfortably shuffle their feet and stand off to the side as Dad’s frown becomes deeper.

Dad pulls Matthew into a protective hug and tells him, “Your asthma isn’t well-controlled because you’re not taking your preventer medication. We can get it under control and you'll feel better – not perfect or cured, but better, and then, you’ll be able to do more without as many symptoms. Please, don’t hide things from us, Matthew. If you had told me you didn’t like the medication you were put on, then we could have worked something out and found you a new medication. Completely stopping your medicine is never a good idea. You don’t want to end up having a severe asthma attack and being hospitalized.”

Matthew lowers his head in shame and rubs his eyes again. 

“And anyone who makes any snide remarks or tries to make you feel bad about your condition is just revealing that they have an ugly character and aren’t worth your time. If your body is telling you it needs to rest, then listen to it…How are you feeling now?” 

“Better,” Matthew whispers. 

“Are you feeling well enough to continue the hike or do you want to go back to the car with me?”

“I want to finish the hike,” he decides, determined. 

“Okay, but you’re walking alongside me the rest of the way, and you’re going to take it slow, understood?” 

“Yeah.”

“And if anyone ever makes you feel judged again, what are you going to do?” 

Alfred waves one fist in the air and answers for him. “Tell them to get lost or your brother will beat them up!" 

Dad rolls his eyes and laughs before standing and helping Matthew up. "Or, better yet, you ignore them. We love you very much and want you to stay healthy and safe. Everything else is secondary." 

"Thanks, guys…" 

"Anytime. We’re here for you. Always,” Alfred assures, giving him a playful little nudge in the shoulder. 

Papa hugs him next and says, “Please take care of yourself, Mathieu.” 

“It’ll get better, don’t worry,” Dad promises, patting his back. “We’ll work on it." 

He hopes his father is right.