#he has that gremlin smile and I think he could pull off the Dancing Madness and general scampering and strangeness

[chiropteracupola]

do we think alan alda could have played alan breck stewart

[invinciblerodent]

I know it's not really a popular interpretation that's gonna win me a bunch of brownie points (from what I've seen many seem to like him more as a tortured romantic or a "crouching grouch, hidden softie"), but I personally am growing to really like characterizing Astarion as a... a weird, selfish, jealous little chaos gremlin that, while he of course has his reasons, is just kind of a crappy person, even when he's in love.

Like I can fully see him as someone who, as time passes between the first proposition and the commitment scene (and you're still not throwing yourself at his feet, blubbering and sobbing about how much you love him????? the audacity??????), starts to get annoyed at you every time you talk to someone a bit too long for his liking. Like I have a veritable plethora of shots of the amazing stankfaces and unimpressed scowls he makes over my girl's shoulder (I know it's probably because he's the second in the party lineup, but in-fiction it's still funny), and some of the stills I grabbed from his comment on fixing -and hugging- Karlach are... actually kind of incredible.

Like, if I presented to you with this screenshot:

and told you this is one of the faces he makes when he says "So, the untouchable Karlach is untouchable no more"? You'd probably assume that he's furious about it for some reason.

And there is a part of me kind of thinks he is, at least in a way, furious, because it takes him a few frames to compose himself, and put his pleasant smile back on:

-which is something I saw him do before. Making a very obviously blank/angry/sad face, taking a moment, and putting on a charming face right away. It's not new, really.

These three shots above were taken over the course of like 2 seconds, tops. It's a very subtle, "blink and you miss it" type of thing, but that's.... honestly all I need to think that Karlach suddenly being an actual option to you (in his weird, at this point in time very "physicality first" POV) is pissing him the fuck off. Like you doing that for her, collecting and lugging scrap metal around, and seeking out Dammon, means that you care for Karlach in some way. Which, then, makes her an opponent in his vying to be the sole recipient of your attention, and he won't suffer even an unknowing adversary. (And in my case, the object of his slowly blooming affections even hugged Karlach! Like right in front of his face!! What arrogance!!!!!! That's just rude, frankly!!!!!!)

I totally can imagine him being the type of person who, before starting a relationship, would use his lack of a need for rest to snoop through your belongings.

As someone who would casually violate your (and others') privacy in little ways, while holding his own sacred.

As someone who'd spy on your interactions with all the other companions from a crack in his tent's opening, and grip his bedroll in anger watching you dance with Wyll ("don't kiss him, don't kiss him, please don't kiss him, if you kiss him I'm fucked"), or steal your journal and get actually mad at you and be unreasonably acerbic to you the next day if it's in a language he doesn't understand.

This kind of also extends to me kind of imagining him as a boyfriend who, once he gets a bit more comfortable with physical affection, will just casually step up to you, and drape an arm around your waist or shoulders while you're talking to someone, to signal almost a sort of ownership. Someone who will make goading faces at anyone who dares look at you too long, or pull you against him in a brazen display if he catches someone checking you out. Like he'd piss on your leg to mark his territory if he could, but he'll settle for leaving a very obvious, crusted over bite mark on your neck if he must.

And yeah, that would get very annoying to any real person, but like I said about Gale before.... I think your character has got to be at least slightly not normal about them, just to match how profoundly not normal they are about you.

... Anyway, do carry on, I just like this edgy dumbass, I like him being both edgy and a dumbass, and him trying to slowly be better about this whole "~~relationship~~" thing is making my little heart happy

(yes, there's the Halsin thing. I have thoughts. But I won't kick the hornet's nest lol.)

[oristromboli]

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 5

Chapter 5: Offerings

After discovering the scroll's contents, the disciples following the God of Duality become the next destination.

Life is simply a series of fair exchanges and offerings to one another in devotion.

(Smut this chapter: none)

A distant voice starts to sing.

Six dear companions all still alive,

One lost his throne and then there were five.

 ---

 You inhale deeply as you tuck the three bottles against your chest with one arm. With the other, you bring your hand to make an emphatic fist. “Today has been. Rough. This had better be a fever dream.”

Childe whistles low, eyes scouring your frame that is now free from dirt, but still littered with scrapes from the Ruin Hunter. “Rough, huh? Did you remember to give a safe word?”

(Aether shushes Paimon’s quiet question of what’s a safe word?)

You unfurl your fist to pinch two fingers together. “I am this close.”

He squints and leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “But your fingers are touching.”

Childe barely manages to dodge the rock you hurl at him.

 ---

 “So, on a scale of one to ten, how mad are you at me?”

You hum. “About an eight.”

Childe scoffs. “I can do better than that.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Aether grits, “But I believe we owe Paimon an apology.” His hands finish wrapping bandages around your forearm and you wince, noticing the gremlin still pouting with her back turned to you all.

After Childe side-stepped your stone and stood up in an attempt to placate you, you immediately took a swing at him. Of course, characteristic of your exhaustion and Childe’s nature, he side-stepped again and stuck out a foot. Which you tripped over. Which he laughed at. Which neither Zhongli nor Xiao stopped, assuming you could break the fall.

Of course.

This led you to tumbling and knocking over the remaining plates that had food on them, to Paimon’s shrieking horror. She held a dumpling to her chest and solemnly followed Zhongli’s gentle advice on a proper, er, funeral speech with a chorus of voices yelling behind her (in irritation from you, in please stop embarrassing me from Aether, in mockery from the king of clowns himself).

Xiao’s hand awkwardly pets her head as she refuses to look at you two.

“I paid for it,” you grumble and Childe snickers.

“Now you know how I feel.” You glare at him and elbow him before sighing, looking at Paimon.

“I’m… Sorry? Ow – “ Aether pinches your side and crosses his arms. Try again. “I’m very… Sorry. I’ll, uh… Your next meal is on me?”

She harrumphs.

“How about your next meals are on me? Breakfast included,” Childe says with a jovial tune, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off and ignore the feigned hurt look on his face as you cross your own arms. He chuckles quietly when you hold up eight fingers to him. “Uh, all your future meals are included?”

Paimon suddenly pirouettes and floats happily. “Okay! No backing out now with Zhongli here,” she chirps, and Childe manages to barely suppress the irritated twitch of his eyebrow.

“Damn leeches, the lot of you,” he murmurs. Sitting squarely between Aether and Childe, you notice how Paimon takes the liberty to sit on Xiao’s outstretched leg. Poor thing is unfortunately hoisted and promptly placed on Zhongli’s knee instead as he sits cross-legged. Without missing a beat, Zhongli begins petting her as well while the six of you sit in silence for a moment.

“Okay, so did I miss anything important?” you suddenly say, turning to Childe on your left. He raises an eyebrow at you in stage confusion and smirks.

“Like missing the mark on hitting me?”

“What are you doing here, Childe?”

Even your own soft tone catches you off-guard and Childe’s eyes widen for a brief second before he schools a look of casual neutrality. Another voice cuts through the air.

“You’re here to observe, are you not?” Xiao interjects. Childe groans and rolls his head to the side, blinking his eyelashes up innocently towards the adeptus with a plastic laugh.

“Aw, am I that obvious? If even spear-up-his-ass can read me, then I really must be losing my touch.”

Aether smiles and reaches behind you to lightly punch Childe’s arms, but you saw how Aether’s own lips pulled slightly too tight. Even he’s on guard. Centuries together allow you to catch these little ticks that others thankfully miss. “It’s gotta be that, with the way we’ve been tearing through Fatui strongholds.”

Childe smirks back at Aether with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Yeah, you’re lucky they sent me and not somebody much worse. I actually like you all.”

Whether or not Aether also heard the sincerity in his voice, he spares Childe the momentary embarrassment and continues with a jab without missing a beat. “Sucks that you’re sent back here, I know how much you like to travel.”

Childe sighs and casually sits back, leaning on both of his hands. The night has long fallen, but the blanket of stars and warm glow from Liyue Harbor nearby is enough to illuminate his boyish face with practiced tranquility.

“The Tsaritsa is pissed. Normally she wouldn’t care since she has her Gnosis, but… She wants to keep tabs on your movements. You’ve already stirred up trouble in Mondstadt and Liyue, can’t have it spreading elsewhere. So, I got placed on janitor duty after failing to obtain the Geo Gnosis.”

“I know.”

All eyes turn on you as you flick your own to the thick journal hanging on your belt buckle.

You miss Childe’s eyes narrowing at the book.

(You miss how Childe’s mouth parts at the starconch dangling along its pages.)

“I read those reports in the camps, but… I didn’t think it was worth mentioning to the others. The Fatui are trying to juggle too many priorities so they’re always a step behind us. If we appear in Dragonspine, they write it down after we show up in Springvale. According to some letters, the official solution was to send a Harbinger to try and boost morale, but that seemed too far-fetched at the time. The Eleven aren’t glorified bureaucrats meant to watch over a region.”

Too simple. Too easy. If they wanted to kill you, they would not have sent just one. Something’s not right.

“Pretty bird, you asked me why I’m here while already knowing the answer? I’m proud. You’d make a fine Fatui spy,” he grins as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Childe hums and continues with an innocuous question. “Kind of interesting how quickly you travel, huh? My men just can’t seem to figure it out.”

It’s a trap, yet with the way Aether’s breath hitches lightly, only you and he caught it. All parties present are among the few who know of your abilities to manipulate the mysterious waypoints.

The thing is, there isn’t actually some… Grand secret. You just simply could. The Tsaritsa didn’t need to know your own lack of competence – and you sincerely doubt she would believe you two anyway.

You sense Aether’s attention shift to your presence rather than see it. Both of you must give credit where credit’s due to Childe: play the fool when you are the one fooling everyone else. As you must fulfill your duties, Childe must fulfill his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you have been a part of this dance for centuries with countless companions asking similar questions. Always fishing for information, always trying to step over those careful lines that Lumine was the first to draw for safety.

“Yeah! Paimon’s seen the way they interact with the old technology here. It’s super confusing!”

“Oh?” comes the amused reply as Childe leans forward. There, there it is again. Those lifeless eyes. “And how do you suppose you all manage that?”

Aether is the first to interrupt. “We don’t know. Paimon is in as much of the dark as we are.”

You slowly move your hand to nudge Aether’s in a moment of gratitude to speak in your stead. He doesn’t look your way, but you feel a soft touch back.

This time, Childe meets your eyes, though something unnerves you in the scrutiny you’re placed under. “Is that so…” he murmurs before throwing his head back in a loud laugh. He places both hands behind his head. “Ah well! Mysteries galore, never a dull moment with you all. Not too upset about being back if my nights are gonna be fun like this.”

“Childe,” Zhongli says for the first time, smiling as his voice pitches deeper like he’s taking part in some conspiracy. “Are you implying… You enjoy Liyue?”

“What can I say,” he grins, “I enjoy the people.”

Xiao grunts. “Give it time.”

“But why did they send you? You’re not the spying type, you’re…” One of your hands gesticulates wildly to Childe’s form. “You’re a fighter.”

“Because I’m already close to you all,” comes the shockingly quick reply. You blink. Childe blinks.

You both blink.

“Signora would set off more alarm bells, wouldn’t it?” he teases, immediately breaking the tension.

“This settles it, then,” Zhongli says, crossing his arms and closing his eyes in contemplation. “I see a wonderful opportunity to appease all parties involved in their respective endeavors.”

You frown as you notice the knowing glance passed between Childe and Zhongli but opt to ignore it.

“I propose,” he continues, looking between you, Aether, and Childe, “that since Xiao and I have no dealings with mortal quarrels, we will officially remain out of your affairs. However, Childe is here to alert the Cryo Archon of your dealings to stifle any further disruptions. You will feed him information about your travels where relevant – and, of course, I will help in an unofficial capacity where possible. In return, you stop rampaging Fatui encampments and endangering the tentative peace found within Liyue after Osial. Relations between the Fatui and the Qixing are stressed as is.”

Aether clicks his tongue as he frowns. “This feels like a very easy solution, and nothing is ever easy. What’s the catch here?”

Childe shrugs as he smiles back to Aether. “Don’t be surprised if I’m ordered to do something very messy?”

“Indeed, matters of the battlefield are no easy proceedings,” Zhongli muses. “The machine of war requires all cogs to be functioning and efficient. Make no mistake, the Tsaritsa’s plans are never granular with flaw. This is a skirmish she intends to win, and I doubt she will allow you to meet the Archons before she acquires their Gnoses, if at all. Appease and abate her curiosity for now. It will spare the land from being watered with blood once again.”

Childe raises an eyebrow as he tuts. “Dear Zhongli, for a former God of War, you sure are awfully transparent about tricking the Tsaritsa in front of a Fatui Harbinger. Does my title mean nothing to you?”

“On the contrary,” you counter before Zhongli can respond. “It’s because it’s you that this might work. You can either accept this ultimatum and make it easy, or we drag a lot more unnecessary innocents into this situation with drawn-out fights across two regions. Wouldn’t want the other Harbingers to come and steal the spotlight again, right?”

You meet his ocean blue eyes again, hoping your gamble on his distaste for the other Harbingers pays off. There has to be a reason it was only one Harbinger sent, it was only him and not someone else.

“Because it’s me, huh?” Something… Something suddenly flashes across his face as the corners around his eyes crinkle briefly. Just as quickly, it disappears. Good grief, you think you’re going to get whiplash with the speed of his changing expressions.

Though, to be honest, you’re the one to blame because you’re certain nobody else pays as much attention to his face as you do. Stars know that Aether sure doesn’t.

Childe tosses a smirk to Zhongli. “A really stupid decision. This will make my job easier, though, and for once I get to keep the damn glory. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you if it comes down to it.”

Zhongli smiles back. “I sincerely doubt it will.”

After that, banter flows easy between all of you as you catch up on your days with somewhat strained ease.

(“I’m not reliving my day sober,” you say as you take a long swig from one of the bottles you bought, feeling Zhongli’s heated gaze on the bob of your throat. Another night, you promise yourself.

“Neither am I,” Childe grunts as he swipes a bottle and joins you.)

You never mention the contents of the scroll, and thankfully, neither does Paimon. You’ll have more time for that after you get wasted.

At some point, Paimon dismounts from Zhongli to sit comfortable on the picnic blanket as he switches places with Aether so that the blonde is next to Xiao.

You don’t miss how the two lean close to one another, or how Xiao’s shoulders seem to relax slightly after the change. Zhongli is flanking your right while Childe is on your left and everyone is sharing in the bottles. Despite the growing comfort that blankets everyone as the night marches on, you feel creeping tendrils of doubt weave into your gut.

And promptly short-circuits every time Childe brushes against your thighs lightly. You never meet his eyes each time, though you both know how quickly you straighten your posture in response.

This is… Okay. Tonight, everything is going to be okay. You shove those nasty feelings of suspicion deeper down, refusing them the chance to ruin a good thing.

Childe’s back. Surprising, but it’s… Good. You’re happy (?).

When you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, you look up to meet the devil’s eyes as he smirks. At this distance, you can smell the faint aroma of alcohol emanating from him. “I know you’re still upset with how we left things off last time, pretty bird. Let’s try to mend this rift, yeah?”

Liquid courage, huh?

You swallow and grin back. “Only if you pay for the meals.”

“Just the meals? Wow, you are an easy date. Then, for the night, mind telling me your safe – “

More shouts erupt as you suddenly jump up, your wrists caught before they can wrap around his throat and Childe is just laughing at your alcohol-fueled attempt to fulfill your promise.

“Am I at a ten now?”

 ---

 Only much later would you and Aether look back on this moment with horror, realizing how dearly you underestimated the ambition of the Cryo Archon in her pursuit for dominion.

 ---

 Five dear companions stand together ashore,

One’s tossed to the depths and then there were four.

 ---

 So, to be fair, the time is now after. You’re wasted.

Okay. Remind sober future you to not… Not tempt the stars. Or fate. You sigh deeply as Paimon goes on a long-winded rant to the buzzed crowd about the scroll’s contents at Zhongli’s behest. Truly, truly you did not want to talk about the scroll, something about Childe’s sudden appearance made you feel… Uneasy.

Or maybe it was the alcohol talking. Time to repress your anxieties again.

You zoned out too much, because all eyes are on you expectantly and you’re at a loss. Thankfully, Aether motions to your journal in a fat hint as to why, so you grab the item to open it to the page you copied the scroll down and hand it to Zhongli.

He leans closer to Xiao so both adepti can peer at the pages. “This is…” Xiao starts, frowning as he continues reading. “I thought this was lost to time.”

“As did I,” Zhongli says. “What you have is a remnant from the God of Duality.”

“Jeez, we know!” Paimon sighs. “That’s what Paimon was talking about earlier!”

Zhongli chuckles softly. “Forgive me, friend, you are correct. What I mean to say, is that you have a map to the God of Duality’s disciples.”

“We know it’s a map! Paimon wants to know if there is treasure involved.”

“What is with you,” you hiss at her.

Xiao raises a lazy eyebrow. “What you have is treasure. Long ago, before the God of Duality gave up their own life willingly in pursuit of the ‘last knowledge’ beyond divine death, they left a series of maps to the mortals as a guide to find the adepti who dedicate their lives to the practice founded by the god. Think of it as like a Sigil of Permission, although should a mortal naturally stumble across their abodes, they are permitted all the same.”

“Indeed. Guizhong once worked with this god, although she was more interested in the… Practical and material application of her knowledge,” Zhongli supplies.

“So, like the ballista?” Childe replies. “But if she involved herself with the material application, then what was the god’s reasons? Spiritual?”

“Of a sort, but I can’t imagine the likes of you being privy to that,” Xiao says, scowling at Childe. Aether sighs and rubs his face.

“And you were doing so well…” he mumbles.

“You are close, but not quite. Think of it as the adepti version of mortal alchemy,” Zhongli continues, ignoring the petulant look Xiao gives him. “We all must deal in transactions and contracts, although for illuminated beasts, the nature of this can be taken a step further. However, even as the God of Contracts, I do not understand the true nature of this god’s power.”

“So,” you say, pursing your lips. “Can this be anything? Items, food, or even knowledge itself?”

“Yes, but you must first offer something worthy of it.” Xiao crosses his arms. “Mortals do not understand this. Most walk away cursing the adepti for tricking them, despite them willfully misinterpreting what exactly is demanded.”

“Indeed. For example, a man on the brink of starvation offering his first kill in a month to the adepti in exchange for knowledge on how to feed his family will be rewarded with the location of the finest hunting grounds, the best traps, and the means to make sure his family never suffers famine again.” Zhongli frowns and looks to Liyue Harbor. “However, if a rich man were to ask the same with the same offering, he will walk away with a plague set upon his crops and his cattle slain.”

“Ouch,” Childe says, inappropriately thrilled at the prospect. “Little harsh, don’t you think?”

“A curse for an insult,” Xiao growls. “The adepti arts are not meant for the quick and foul schemes of you humans.”

“Alright! I get it, you sanctimonious prick. You’re supposed to lick the boot, not deep-throat it,” Childe grumbles back as the alcohol loosens his words. “Something like that though would be useful for the Fatui. A leap of faith for the ol’ Liyue arts.”

“Careful Childe,” Zhongli says. “What you say may be taken literally by the god’s ways. They may indeed ask you to leap from a mountain top to prove your worth. Do you know what will happen then if you fail?”

“I’ll be home in time for breakfast?” Childe lazily responds.

“Your body will never be found.”

Silence descends before Paimon coughs a little too loudly. “Sheesh… So, can only humans ask them for favors?”

“No,” Zhongli says, looking to her. “Everyone may request something, though even gods can hesitate at their payment. I once made such a transaction myself for my weapon, Vortex Vanquisher, to be smithed and imbued with the divine ability to seal Osial.”

“Really?” Stars gather in Paimon’s eyes as she kicks excitedly. “But what did you offer in return, Mr. Zhongli?”

He only smiles, but you see how his gaze fades, looking past Paimon to a time long ago. “Enough.”

Childe frowns and takes the journal from Zhongli’s hands, inspecting it himself. “Huh. I don’t see any markings to the abodes though.”

“That is because you must first have an offering in hand and a will to see it through before the map will reveal itself,” Xiao says, harshly seizing the book before offering it back to you. You laugh and take it, reattaching it to your belt. “Find something to represent your question before you seek these disciples. They may ask more of you regardless.”

“More importantly, I am not sure that most of these locations still have the disciples. As time progressed, most have gone into hiding deeper into the mountains.” Zhongli hums as he puts a tentative hand to his chin, trying to summon memories of his subjects’ whereabouts.

“Yeah, Jueyun Karst, right?” Paimon asks.

“That is where the more formidable adepti reside. The others have retreated to the City of Ichor.”

At Paimon’s quizzical glance, Xiao adds simply, “The capital of adepti abodes.”

Everyone takes a moment to allow the information – surely forbidden to outsiders – to sink in.

You sigh before standing to stretch out. “Well, I don’t know about all of you, but this day’s been a lot for me. On that note, let’s call it a night, yeah? We can deal with this later.”

“We?” Childe laughs, standing up as well. “Are you inviting me along, pretty bird?”

“You are inviting yourself along, you free-loader,” Xiao says as he stands. Aether smiles as he’s offered a hand from the adeptus and is gently tugged up.

Childe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly mustering what little patience he has left. “For someone who can jump so high, you sure are terrible at catching jokes.”

“Anyway. If you can find something, then sure. All part of your job, right? Just don’t make me regret it,” you chuckle while Paimon floats up next to you, carrying the picnic blanket.

“Remember that I’m the lesser of the evils here, o mighty one,” Childe says as he smiles placidly and waves his hands mockingly to Xiao. Still… Something lurks in his eyes that pierces the warm alcoholic daze in your mind.

Childe feels real, feels present, but he seems too… Lucid, considering how much he drank. Like the scroll woke something up in him.

But of course it would, you reason with yourself, he’s a Harbinger serving Her Majesty. Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity?

“One more warning,” Zhongli calls as he walks past everyone, beginning his own descent back to Liyue Harbor. “What you offer must be honest and from your own heart. You cannot seek someone else’s desires. It is an insult to send someone in your stead to bargain your own contract, so think carefully on what you ask, Childe – and for whom it truly is.”

Childe pauses and stares, a rare sight on his easy-going face, before he shakes his head and laughs. “Of course, of course,” he says, trailing after.

As you walk closer to Liyue, lagging behind the group while they converse amongst themselves, you can’t help the doubts gnawing at you once again at the idea of seeing these adepti.

And with the way Aether turns behind himself to look at you, he can’t either.

 ---

 “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you say as you take another bite from your salad.  Aether nods while he refills Paimon’s cup with more tea, glancing at the journal on the table.

It’s been a least half a week since your last encounter with everyone, since your last encounter with…

You sigh, willing that thought away. This doesn’t escape Paimon’s notice as she frowns, placing a small hand atop yours.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, concern creasing her features.

“Just thinking you look better without all those worry lines.” You laugh when she smacks your hand.

“You know, the same can be said of you!” Paimon huffs before laughing too. “But… Seriously, what’s going on with you two?”

Aether looks at her before meeting your gaze. He puts down his cup to turn to Paimon again, trying to find the right words.

“Exploring isn’t the only reason why we travel,” Aether starts carefully. “We’re also looking for something. Or, well, I’m just helping her.” He chucks his thumb to you as you snort.

Paimon’s eyes light up as she smiles wide and bright. “Oh! Do you think the adepti can help you? Maybe Paimon can help too, as your official Teyvat tour guide.”

You chuckle slightly as you push the plate of remaining salad towards Paimon as a gift. “I hope so. You can finish this for me, by the way.”

Although Paimon grabs a fork and starts eating, you still catch the quiet complaint of misleading names and there’s nothing satisfying about this salad.

 ---

 “I do not understand.”

Zhongli pauses, placing a hand on his chin. “Xiao, I will not pretend that I know any more than you do. However, walking among Liyue’s people, I have found them to be consistent in their inconsistency. A tree, though verdant and in bloom, will change its colors before shedding its leaves entirely. This does not mean it will never again bear fruit. A bird will always come home when it flies, a flower will still be beautiful though its life is short. We must place our trust in these cycles of life and season.”

(A mantra, they both know, heard a thousand times. A poem. A plea of compassion for the mortals from she who rests with dust.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.)

Xiao purses his lips, growling to himself. He still does not see the meaning of peace in turbulent and unreliable things. “These humans are fickle. They can raze forests in their greed.”

“Yes, and they can plant new ones all the same.”

“But, my lor – “

“Don’t,” comes the warning noise from Zhongli. “I am that no longer, Xiao. Call me Zhongli. We are equals here, please.”

He maintains steady steps with Zhongli. He’s… Confused. Why did his mast – Zhongli allow Childe back so soon, so easily? “Do you truly trust that man?”

Zhongli nods. The two of them are walking along the shores bordering Liyue Harbor. Although Xiao won’t admit it, he’s been slowly allowing himself to drift closer and closer to the city. He looks to Zhongli when the other sighs, clearly understanding the reluctance swirling in Xiao’s mind. “My friend, you know Childe will not dare defy my contract.”

“But what about the Travelers? What of Aether?” Xiao cries suddenly, opening his arms. They’re getting closer still to the boats, and though Xiao slows his steps – with Zhongli slowing with him – they continue their march regardless. Liyue’s people remain far, though, as the younger adeptus was never fond of crowds. “Do you think Aether trusts him? Do you truly believe that – “

“I cannot and will not speak for Aether,” Zhongli interrupts, pausing in his steps. He holds up a single hand, motioning for Xiao to stop as well. “If you care for his opinions, why not ask yourself?”

“W-what? How can I even ask him when I don’t know where he is?”

Zhongli smiles and stretches his arm behind him. Xiao follows the motion and pauses, widening his eyes when he spots you, Aether, and Paimon conversing with Childe at the edges of the city. However brief the interaction was, as you all part, Aether turns and flashes a two-fingered salute to the Harbinger before walking away.

Xiao scowls and turns around. “I will question him later,” he mutters.

Zhongli simply laughs.

 ---

 (Xiao hates the doubt creeping into his mind. He has devoted time immemorial to his lord, would lay down his life thousands of times over should Zhongli ever ask. Xiao is who he is because of Zhongli, because he saw fit to save the life of one who was damned.

He hates the doubt creeping into his mind.

It is not because of the morality of this man, no, Xiao could care less. He has slain demons worse than the Harbinger. It is not because of the enigma of the travelers, for Xiao understands secrets intimately.

It is because Zhongli has held and kissed and cared about so many humans, yet… Spoke so easily of mortality, of cycles and seasons, of excitement coming from those who break the norm and are worthy to lie with a lithic god.

He hates the doubt whispering to him that Zhongli – glorious, wise, effervescent Zhongli – was wrong. That the all-knowing did not know what Xiao felt whenever he gazed upon Aether.

Guizhong nurtured flowers, but Morax possessed them.)

 ---

 Four dear companions see a mask donned with a growl so beastly,

One left for war and then there were three.

 ---

 “Aether…”

“Yeah?”

“I just realized something.”

“Hm?”

“We’re breaking one of Lumine’s rules. ‘Be mindful of the company you keep, with connections to enemies and friends alike – ‘ ”

“ ‘Don’t get attached and pay a price so steep, we must leave before the night.’ “

“What do we do? We…”

“I know. We’ll figure it out.”

 ---

 Three dear companions saw hands in the art she drew,

One could not escape their grip and then there were two.

 ---

 “Hi, Albedo! Long time no see!” you call to the blonde, waving merrily. The alchemist turns and smiles softly to you as you approach his table at the base of Dragonspine.

“Ah, Traveler, I didn’t expect to see you,” he replies politely, reticent as usual.

More days have passed, and both you and Aether agreed to split up in search of worthy offerings for the adepti. Briefly, you encountered Zhongli and Childe at Liuli Pavilion, though only stuck around long enough to discuss their respective choices in whether or not they decided to join your journey. Of course, they said yes.

Just as quickly, you turned on your heel, refusing to indulge the confused mixture of lust and irritation that quickly pooled at the small interaction. Get it together! Now isn’t the best time for that. Childe’s back, you’re pissed still, you’re mad at him.

You keep chanting these words to yourself in hopes of making it truth.

… He’s not bad looking.

Ugh.

Although you have an idea of what to give, you came to Dragonspine in hopes that the renowned alchemist can offer some insight.

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you a quick question, if you don’t mind?”

“Go on.” He puts down his papers, a clear indication to continue.

“I have something from my travels, and I’m wondering if the material can be transmuted. Err, I mean… Is it conducive to alchemical properties?” You hold out your hand and summon an iridescent mask. Although, you have to admit that calling it a ‘mask’ is loose at best, as there is no holes for eyes, just a cut out for a mouth. The mask shimmers in a cacophony of cosmological colors under the light on one side, resembling the abalone shells found along shorelines. There are almost no other features, making it a twisted mirror to the viewer. On the other, there is a matte blackness that reflects no light.

Albedo frowns and sticks out his hand, tentatively holding the object as you pass it along. As he turns it this way and that, mumbling observations under his breath, you can’t help but shift your weight from foot to foot in anticipation. You notice him pick up a scalpel to collect the smallest sliver of a sample and he places it on the alchemy table.

Stars, how long can he stare at the thing?

Eventually, Albedo turns to you (and ignores your sagging relief) to hand the item back. “I don’t know where you acquired such a fascinating specimen. Pray tell, where did you come across this?”

“Um,” you start, blinking widely. “Nowhere close to Dragonspine?”

He nods. “A shame. Perhaps I can find something similar one day.”

Not a chance, buddy. “So? What do you think?”

“The materials, though nearly as primordial and resilient as Liyue’s crystals, are extraordinarily organic in nature. This should be likewise conducive to any transmutational processes you wish to conduct. However, unlike inorganic objects, you cannot easily predict the outcome. Why do you ask?”

You nod as you hold the eyeless mask, staring into the blackness behind it.

“Just trying to figure something out for a ritual. Tricky thing has a mind of its own sometimes.”

It stares back.

 ---

 (You decide to find a new offering. This will reveal too many things, stir too many questions that you have no answers for.

It’s better that they don’t know. They can’t know.

Aether understands. He still remembers the day he met you.)

 ---

 As Childe walks along a bridge towards Wangshu Inn, he pauses to savor the idyllic landscape. The sun is setting steadily behind the inn, casting deep shadows all around him. “You know, where’s the honor in sneaking up on your opponent, hm?”

In a flash, he whips out his bow and fires a shot towards Xiao’s head. The Yaksha leaps gracefully and flips in the air, twisting his body so that he utilizes his weight in a downward thrust. Childe jumps back to avoid the shattering earth and smirks, rubbing his nose. “Show off.”

Gold eyes meet blue. Shit, Childe can practically see the air around him twist with hostility and Childe’s feeling like a kid in a candy shop. “I warned you that I will not spare you, human.”

“Good. Don’t you dare disappoint me,” he snarls before running towards Xiao. When the other sweeps his spear in an arc, Childe flips over the motion to swipe at his head with his own hydro spear. Xiao grunts and leans back, allowing the blade to graze his cheek as he twirls with the pole to regain balance.

Childe moves back to raise his bow and fire a literal rain of arrows upon the ground, but in the commotion, he nearly can’t keep up with his opponent’s speed as Xiao dances between each arrow fired. Xiao leaps again with fangs bared, aiming for the spot where Childe is perching before his instincts push him to dive out of the way.

Breaking his fall with a roll, Childe turns to see Xiao charging him. No better time to practice the moves he’s seen Zhongli employ in their rare outings to the wilderness.

Right as the adeptus thrusts his spear, Childe summons his blades to parry the movement with an upward cross, trapping the pole between two swords. When Xiao moves back to dodge the rounded kick to his side, Childe switches to a pole once again to thrust into the earth where Xiao’s feet dance out of the way.

Now or never. The Harbinger grunts as he shifts feet to kick the spear.

Neither graceful nor imperial like Zhongli’s, the action gets the job done regardless as it spins dangerously fast towards Xiao, releasing arcs of sharp water-like echoes across the air. Xiao dodges all of them, panting when he notices the water is fierce enough to cleave the stone near him in half. He stands straight, motioning his spear accusingly to Childe. “Where did you learn such a move?”

“Zhongli showed me his spear, of course,” Childe replies sweetly. With a shout for bloody murder, Xiao moves for the kill, but… Childe’s eyes flick to his right and he suddenly wills his blades away to stand straight, placing one hand in his pocket. He relaxes his figure and smiles leisurely.

Come on, take the bait you asshat.

Shy of stabbing Childe’s throat, Xiao’s spear halts as he hears it: children. Very fast, very young, and very loud children skipping closer to their battle. Xiao growls again as he releases his weapon, standing straight and crossing his arms. Neither break eye contact as the kids run past them with giggles when they hit each other with toy swords.

“Why are you here, scum?”

Childe buckles like he’s been shot with an arrow, leaning forward as he places a hand on his chest. “Oh! Oh! So mean, XiaoXiao.”

“Disrespectful little rat.”

“Ha. I’m here for the Travelers. Word has it that they were last seen around here.”

Xiao scoffs and looks away. “You are too late, they left long ago.”

“Oh?” Childe steps closer to the adeptus and slowly leans forward, plucking a single golden strand of hair from Xiao’s shoulder. He stiffens as he glares at the Fatui, who shakes his head like he caught a child with their hand in the cookie jar. “You know, I really hate liars,” Childe sighs.

He side-steps the adeptus to continue his languid walk to Wangshu Inn, humming a traditional Snezhnayan song all the while.

“You sound horrible,” comes the crabby voice behind him.

“Sheesh, so wound up. Do me a favor and either go fuck yourself or go fuck someo - ”

Once again, Childe barely manages to dodge a rock hurled at his head.

 ---

 “Hey! Aether buddy!” Childe cries, opening his arms when he spies the blonde. Aether turns and laughs, waving to the enthusiastic Harbinger.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” he says, smiling as bright as the sun when he spots Xiao behind him. “Xiao! You two didn’t fight each other?”

“Uh – “

“Dear XiaoXiao and I? Now, who do you think we are?” Childe pouts. Paimon squints and flies up to Xiao, giggling as she spies a crimson cut across the other’s cheek that is purposefully hidden behind bangs.

“Paimon thinks that they did,” she says in a sing-song tone. Aether gasps as he runs over, fussing over the deep wound much to adeptus’ chagrin. Still, Childe notices the slight blush creeping up his face. What a bunch of lovesick idiots.

“Good grief,” Childe mutters, rolling his eyes. Paimon looks just as unimpressed as he felt. “Is this a regular thing, stir-fry? I’m about to puke.”

“First of all, Paimon is not stir-fry! And secondly, it kind of is,” she sighs, rubbing her temples. “Paimon doesn’t get how they haven’t figured it out yet, but Paimon doesn’t want to just tell them.”

“Yeah, they’d never believe you, they’re trying too hard.”

“What’re you doing here anyway, Wallet?”

“Oh, I’m looking for – Wait. What d’you mean ‘Wallet’?” Childe scoffs, glaring at Paimon. He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he suppresses the very real and very loud urge to commit homicide. It’s illegal here, stop it, too many people, you can kill her later. “If you’re going to embarrass me like that, at least avoid doing it in front of the Fatui underlings. I still have a reputation to maintain.”

Paimon hums and holds out her hand.

Is she serious?

She makes a ‘gimme’ motion.

Is she fucking serious?

“Promises, promises. Remember that night with Mr. Zhongli?”

Childe releases a string of filthy Snezhnayan curses as he grabs a small bag of Mora to hand over from his own knapsack. “I am on a budget, you know. Not that you’d understand, you bottomless pit. Will this be enough to cover your next meals, m’lady?”

“Yep. You may leave, Mr. Wallet,” she say solemnly, raising her head as she motions for him to make his exit before breaking out into a smug fit of laughter.

Oh. That’s it. Legality be damned, he’s going to kill her –

“Xiao told me you were looking for us?” Aether calls. Childe blinks quickly, before nodding and repeats your name, all thoughts of murder pushed to the back of his mind. For now, anyway.

“Where is she? Thought little birdie would be here.”

“Oh, she’s still in Dragonspine, though I think she mentioned staying for the night before leaving. She should be back first thing tomorrow. Come with us to dinner?”

“Aether, no – “

“I would be delighted. Right, XiaoXiao?” Childe grins, opening one arm to allow the blonde to lead the way. “Team building and all of that.”

“Please? At least get along on the upcoming trip?” Aether smiles at Xiao, pleading with his eyes in that certain way that makes Xiao’s heart race again. He grumbles and allows the other to lead them towards the tables.

Xiao turns around and puffs with irritation at Childe’s entertained gaze.

The Fatui makes a heart symbol with his fingers. Asshole.

 ---

 “You know Aether, had Lord Rex – “

“It’s Zhongli now, remember?”

“Yes, you’re right. Had I known he would have found someone so capable, even to the adepti, I would have hoped to see you fight sooner.”

“Aw, now you sound like you’re about to ask me for a favor too, Xiao.”

Xiao’s lips barely turn upward, soft and slow. “You dare assume I need help?”

Aether pouts slightly. “No. Just wanted to offer anyway. And you were being so nice, ha.”

“… Shall I practice my flattery for your next visit, then? With any luck, I will be better.”

Aether laughs and leans a bit closer. Some time passes before he speaks again.

“Xiao, have you ever been beyond the borders of Liyue?”

Xiao raises an eyebrow as he looks to his right and stops, losing his breath. Aether is… Aether is radiant under the moonlight. More than that, truly. The strands of golden hair billow softly in the wind, catching the light from the lanterns all around them. And… He’s smiling so earnestly, so sweetly and golden.

The ginkgo tree behind Aether sways.

“Why do you ask?”

Aether leans back, kicking his legs as they hang over the balcony. “Well, ever since you accepted the contract to defend Liyue, have you ever been given a chance to leave? Will you leave now that ‘Rex Lapis’ is gone? The people here are capable of defending themselves.”

Xiao sighs and looks back to the horizon. “I do not know,” he mutters. “I… I do not remember if I have left Liyue. Before I came to serve under Zhongli, I served another, but my memories during those days slip through my fingers. There are flashes. It…” Hurts.

Aether understands. He scoots closer again, delicately placing a few fingers over Xiao’s. When Xiao flinches slightly, Aether starts to withdraw before his hand is grabbed. He allows himself to be pulled back gently. Though his heart beats against his chest, Aether feels more at ease than he has for a long time.

“I want to take you. We should go someday,” Aether says quietly.

“Where?”

“Somewhere. Anywhere. If I call your name, you’ll come, right?”

“Yes. If you want to see me…” He dares a glance at Aether.

“Xiao.”

They stay like that for a time. Xiao decides that night that honey is better than almond tofu.

Aether decides to make a list of places to go.

 ---

 A young Snezhnayan boy, surrounded by many others of his ilk, recites his oath before the feet of the Tsaritsa with glee. His blood rushes to his ears as he kneels at her feet. Tartaglia is his name now, his duty, his purpose. The ice-tipped sword digging into his shoulder as he echoes and affirms his vows only fuel his determination to serve his beloved goddess.

Yet, when he rises, he is no longer in the throne room. He is standing on a cliffside watching the venerated Tsaritsa dangle a woman over a yawning ravine by her throat with the other Harbingers bearing witness beside him. The woman is struggling, clawing at the goddess’ forearms and whimpers, “Your Majesty! Please! Give me another chance! My love - ”

Once, he stood as the Twelfth Harbinger.

Now, as the Tsaritsa releases her hold, he stands as the Eleventh.

His eyes steadily follow Columbina’s shrieking fall into the Abyss. Traitor.

The Tsaritsa turns her steely gaze to the audience presented, meeting each of their eyes. “Ice, once fractured, requires a sacrifice to seal it once more. We cannot allow weakness in our ranks.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Harbingers respond in unison. However, when Tartaglia blinks, the scene starts to replay once more.

Except this time, instead of Columbina, the Tsaritsa is holding –

No. No no no no no!

 ---

 Childe sits up, sweat beading along his skin and temptingly close to emptying his stomach. He closes his eyes and flexes his hands, willing water to slowly coalesce in his grip without bothering to look at the other entity in the room.

“If you get off on watching people sleep, you could’ve wined and dined me first,” he grumbles, joke falling flat.

“I thought I already did." Childe looks to see Xiao casually sitting in his windowsill, one leg hanging off the side. However, the adeptus isn’t looking at him but at the moon rising. “Who is Teucer?”

“How,” Childe rasps. He didn’t realize until then how dry his throat is. “How do you know that name?”

“You were screaming it.”

Chidle doesn’t respond but releases his hand, allowing the water to evaporate once more. He groans and leans his head back, hitting the headboard with a dull thunk. Some time passes, though neither seem eager to break the silence.

“Why do you serve her?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why. Do you. Serve her?” Xiao repeats, slow but forceful. “You’ve seen what the Fatui are capable of.”

Childe narrows his eyes at Xiao’s back, irritation slowly growing in him again. “You’re lecturing me? You who fought in the Archon War? Give me a break. I may be just a human to you, but… You know what happened to Khaenri’ah.”

It’s not a secret among the Harbingers and the highest officers where Snezhnaya inherited most of its technology nor what happened to the ancient empire. One of the many missions of the Dottore involved researching the ancient factories producing Ruin Guards, after all.

To the Snezhnayans, though, the Fatui are paragons of virtue for humanity against the Abyss and they remain blissfully ignorant to the true reasons behind Khaenri’ah’s fall.

“The Tsaritsa is leading us to become the strongest nation.”

“That is what she tells them,” Xiao replies. “Why do you serve her?”

“You think I want my motherland wiped off the maps because we are willing to do anything, anything, to survive the cold? To make the lives of our poorest easier? To feed the empty bellies when winter comes? The Tsaritsa is helping all of us in Teyvat, you ungrateful bastard. She’s making sure that we can thrive as people, not as pets to Celestia. Once she frees us, we’ll all be safer in a new era.”

Xiao makes a sound vaguely like a laugh – a pitying laugh, Childe notes – and stands. He never turns around as he sighs. “You believe that the gods aren’t pets too? That she’ll just forget? Remember that it took seven Archons to condemn the fallen nation, not six. Celestia’s seat will not remain uninhabited forever.”

He then leaps and Childe watches Xiao’s departure before huffing to himself. Good riddance. The gall of this adeptus to enter his room and then act like he’s on the moral high ground? What a self-righteous prick.

Sighing, Childe slides back to bed and pulls the covers over himself again. His knuckles go white as he grips his sheets, remembering how easily the Tsaritsa tossed her mortal lover aside.

One day, he will crush the thrones of the gods.

“I know.”

 ---

 Dreams come more frequently for Ajax now. He wonders if he will ever hear those voices from the first night again.

 ---

 Aether and Childe are eating their breakfast together, idly chatting over upcoming plans. When the blonde begins stripping his scarf to avoid stains, Childe whistles long and low.

“Careful comrade, the world will explode on itself if you take any more off. I fear what seeing your collarbone will do to the common folk.”

Aether laughs and rolls his eyes before stabbing at his meal. “So, you got an offering yet?”

“Mm? Oh yeah. Definitely.”

“… No you don’t.”

“No I don’t.”

He sighs and leans forward, staring at Childe intently. “I know that you’re going to ask for more power, but the question is, what’s worth that? You already have the heretical teachings from the Abyss, the Delusion, the Vision…”

Childe pretends to be hurt as he waggles his eyebrows. “Comrade! You can never truly know what I have up my sleeve.”

“Well… What about a toy?”

That sends Childe reeling. “A toy? Why a toy?”

“You said it yourself, you defend childhood dreams, right?” Aether’s voice is soft, but he doesn’t look at Childe in an attempt to allow privacy for the Harbinger. “That’s why you fight. So give them a toy.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Childe laughs again, charming and familiar, but there’s an overtone of sincerity. “Ah, maybe you do know what’s up my sleeve.”

“Careful Childe,” Aether responds, eyes twinkling. “I fear what seeing your arms will do to the common folk.”

“Aw, they would love it!” he grins, flexing both of his arms upwards in a show of mock strength. “Maybe I can just offer those adepti the adoration from my fans.”

Aether snorts. “Call it a hunch, but love and adoration might be two different things.”

“Yeah,” Childe replies, digging back into his food. “Besides, I think my biggest fan’s love is the only one that matters.”

His companion raises an eyebrow, but says nothing when he sees the rare expression of peace on the Harbinger for Teucer.

Aether wishes Lumine could see it too.

 ---

 Two dear companions saw a blonde figure run,

One chased to the end and then there was one.

 ---

 Gods… What did you do to piss off the stars? Truly? There must be some sort of karmic balance in play. Life just saw you having a good morning and decided hey, it’s been too long since she’s had something bad happen!

You’re definitely cursed.

You groan as you roll onto your side, ignoring Childe’s own pained moans. When you were walking up the steps to Wansgshu Inn – true to his damned codename – the immature Harbinger thought it would be hilarious to hug you from behind to surprise you.

Which was a bad idea because you suddenly grabbed him in response. Which had you both losing your balance. Which made you tumble to the bottom of the steps together.

Of fucking course.

“Ha, did you – ugh – fall from Celestia babe? Because coming down those steps, you – “

“Childe, I’m giving you three seconds to shut up.”

“Right.”

When you both sit up, you stare at each other for a long moment before you sigh, fighting back a grin. “Alright, what’re you doing here?”

Childe pouts and stands up, offering you a hand to help you up.

You ignore how familiar it felt, how nice that he dusted the dirt off your back while holding you tight.

“Pretty bird’s been avoiding me. Can you blame me if I go hunting?” he whines.

“I have not! I’ve been looking for something to trade and you should be doing the same.”

“Oh, that? Pfft, I got that covered.”

Raising an eyebrow, you cock a hip out as you stare. He only nods enthusiastically and rolls back and forth on his feet. “Aether told me you might need help completing a commission? There’s one nearby if I recall correctly. We’re all meeting up again later tonight to discuss the next steps anyway, can’t hurt to have your loyal comrade along!”

Shaking your head, you two meet up with the others at the inn to discuss the day’s plans before setting out on your journeys. Shockingly, fewer insults – though no less scathing - pass between Xiao and Childe than you expected while you finish speaking to Aether.

Huh. Last you saw Xiao and Childe, you could’ve sworn they were more… Hostile.

Some time walking along the road passes while you two chatter briefly. It’s all small talk though, and you can feel it again, that chasm between you, that something left unsaid. Maybe a peace offering will do?

You feel Childe’s eyes on you as you summon a bag of spices in your hand and shove it towards him, not bothering to look at his face. “Here. Forgot to give it to you earlier.”

No, you didn’t. You just bought them today.

“Hm? What’s this? …Snezhnayan spices?”

“Yeah, I saw a merchant selling it and thought it’d be interesting to try out for some recipes. You’ll definitely get more use out of it than me.”

Total fucking lie. You bought it entirely to show him, hoping to make things less awkward and… Maybe see his smile, too.

You ignore the flashes of amber eyes and a deep voice running through your mind. It was just a fun night. Nothing more.

“Huh. Thank you.”

Nodding, you both continue along, but the silence between you is comfortable now. It’s nice again, simpler, like Osial never happened. Almost, anyway.

Childe makes sure you aren’t looking as he puts the spices away, smiling to himself.

 ---

 One dear companion left under the sun,

She wandered in search of her friends and then there were none.

 ---

 “Guizhong, what are you singing of now?”

Guizhong turns and giggles at the sight of Morax in his full draconic glory, scales aflame with a  gold shimmer that no treasure can match. “Beloved, you need not appear as a god before me. Come and sit so I may braid your hair.”

When Guizhong looks to the plains, she continues her soft melodies. Morax settles next to her in his mortal form. Without hesitation, he tilts his head when her hands reach his hair, offering her his peace. There is a tacit understanding between them when anxiety tugs at her heart; as an industrial goddess, she turns to her hands to settle her thoughts.

Morax, though he never shows on his stoney face, enjoys providing this comfort for her. After so many centuries together, Guizhong long abandoned the endeavor of persuading Morax to express emotions in the human way. She knew that the brute before her will always remain an illuminated beast at heart.

That is why she loves him so.

“Morax, my love, you are purring again,” she teases. He huffs and stops, but at her light tug on his hair, he resumes. “Is our dear dragon turning into a fat house cat?”

“Which am I, Guizhong?” he says. When she leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth, he turns to meet her soft motions with his own. He was never gentle, this god of stone, yet he tries for her. “Am I a god, or am I your pet?”

Her lover’s words are teasing, and she cannot help the bubble of laughter as he tries – and fails – to smile charmingly in a show of fangs.

“You are my love,” she murmurs and kisses him again.

Hers. Of course, he thinks. Hers.

“My heart belongs to you,” he whispers back, though frowns when she notices her crestfallen expression.

“Your heart belongs to you, as my love for you is mine. Do not give it away so easily. Beloved, love is a thing that should free us. I do not wish to bind you, but I want to grow with you. Love is changing, is it not?”

He follows her gaze upwards to the ginkgo tree they sit under before she continues. “Welcome the changes time brings you, Morax. You may find yourself surprised yet. Promise me you’ll try.”

At her contemplative tone, he looks to her again, though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “I will,” he replies. “I promise to try and appreciate these mortal cycles. Though I would not call myself so dramatic as to die for it; so many humans declare this a romantic notion. How strange.”

“It’s a start,” she laughs. “Perhaps start with loving the land and loving your subjects. They have never truly courted death.”

“I do not see why you fret,” he mumbles and moves closer to kiss her jaw. “You will be here with me.”

“Of course,” she says. “Of course.”

She moves her ankle further beneath her dress, hiding from his imperial gaze the black decay that eats at her.

“Another promise. Indulge me, God of Contracts.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, though he continues his ministrations.

“Promise me that you will free me if you love me. Love me enough to live, instead of dying for it then.”

More silence meets her, though from the grip of his hand on her thighs, she knows he acquiesces.

When she met with the God of Duality so long ago, Guizhong knew her days were numbered as she collected artifacts filled with poisonous malice. The day that this blackness takes her is swiftly coming. Her dear friend chose death in their pursuit of knowledge since their true love lay in discovery. She knew this long before she ever met her lover.

Guizhong closes her eyes as she fervently kisses Morax with an apology deep in her heart. She loves her people enough to toil endlessly for them and, eventually, die with them, yet Morax did not choose this path. Guizhong refuses to choose for him, made him promise to continue his own journey.

Someone as strong as the God of War would not understand her desperation. Among the gods of this land, Guizhong is weak enough to be considered a mortal herself – a fact she accepted long ago as she offers her knowledge to her people.

Regardless of this, she wonders briefly if she was selfish in this, in loving him knowing that it would be temporary. But when he moves down her neck and presses his body to hers, she finds her heart soaring with peace. She’s lived a good life, selfish as it was. How ironic that she chided Morax on his possessiveness.

Guizhong knows she will be his first love, but she prays to whoever is listening that she will not be his last.

 ---

 The sky twinkles, too far away to be seen.

-

notes:

gosh I love exploring facets of a character's personality via a different POV

1) The idea of adepti (and by implication other non-humans of Teyvat) dealing in favors and transformations is directly inspired by various mythologies in different cultures of fair trade whenever humans wanted something. City of Ichor is directly inspired by the myths of separate lands (like Tir Na Nog)

2) Among the many symbols attached to the ginkgo tree is longevity, peace, and hope

3) Since the Harbingers' titles are directly referencing the Commedia dell'arte, I decided to pull one of the characters from it as a 'lover' for the Tsaritsa. The Columbina character is the secret lover and assistant to the Harlequin whose own character is known for his trickster qualities, thwarting his master's plans, and pursuing what he loves at all costs. Since the Cryo Archon is the Archon of Love, I mean...

4) Childe's story directly references his desires to "crush the thrones of the gods"

5) Guizhong's corruption is my personal theory since the quest "Treasure Lost, Treasure Found" has us find tablets, but the archaeologist is utterly confused as to how Guizhong was killed with the strongest god protecting her. Combined with no natural disaster would have been enough to strike her, nobody would dare challenge two gods, and one tablet says "there THEY fought on Guili Plains" with black dust and splintered rocks as the only elements in the last battle, and - yeah. I know a lot of people portray her as sweet and all-knowing, but I wanted to humanize her a bit (hah) because she's still a god who strongly valued her own intellect above most else and carelessly collected evil artifacts the Adepti had to hide after her death. You can't tell me she didn't have some flaws.

[stitch1830]

Stitch my luv. Give me the cheesiest, fluffiest taang headcanons you can think of off the top of your head.

Hi Joy! Oof, cheese and fluff? Let's see...

I think the cheesiest one I ever came up with was when Toph is pregnant, Aang wants to do this one thing with the baby everyday until baby Beifong arrives. With lots of complaining and sighs, Toph agrees, and Aang decides on drawing a heart on her stomach, kissing it, and then saying something sweet to the baby. He does this everyday without fail, and then when they have future dunebabies, Lin and dunebabies to follow do the same to Toph's stomach, multiple times a day now... And well, Toph can't tell her kids to stop being sweet, but it's just tons of cheese and fluff when baby Lin kisses Mama's belly to say hi to the baby. Nearly wrote a one shot about this, but I think it's a little too cheesy, even for me.

Baby Su was a fussy baby for a long time, and the only way she could sleep for periods of time was on either Toph or Aang's chest, Aang mainly. He's the baby Su whisperer.

I still think the badgermole kisses would be cute for Taang and the dunebabies lol.*sniff sniff kiss*

When Toph is alone with the babies, she does a silly dance with them and tries to make them laugh. I feel like it would be really important for her to hear their first laugh since she can't see their first smiles. She's pretty adamant about being around for their first laugh if she has any say in the matter.

I can see Toph getting mad or angry about something and she goes off to vent to Aang, and after a while, he'll just kiss her forehead and gently pull her into a hug until the angry Toph gremlin calms down. He knows she's all better when she wraps her arms around his waist.

When Aang is upset, he just whines and complains into Toph's shoulder. He leans down a lot and Toph lets him vent and she'll pat the back of his head and goes "there there." lol

They're big on cuddling, especially with the kiddos.

Toph loves giving raspberries on the the dunebabies' bellies. Sometimes the kids laugh until they cry (then Aang is left to wipe away the tears LOL).

And... that's all I have for now! :D

[jimjamthehorrorman]

-will put others before myself, especially people I care about. I often struggle to express my emotions properly. I enjoy horror (duh), rock and metal, psychology, art and games (any sort, really, as long as I don't need to run too much because my knee's BUSTED). I'm also a real life gremlin and need to feel protected otherwise I get s(m)ad U_U (sorry this is so long kjsljfsfjl) (2/2)

Honestly, you sound adorable!

I was between Jason and Thomas, -the big protector types- but in the end I decided this fella was your best choice:

Thomas Brown Hewitt, a man of few words but a mad amount of love for his family and maybe... you.

How you met may have been strange. Perhaps through Sheriff Hoyt or the lovely older woman at the little shoppe up the road.. Or you could have been a victim that he couldn't bring himself to hurt.

•Tommy loves that you're shorter than him and he thinks that your curves speak for themselves! Gorgeous!

•Your eyes are spectacular to him. He spends countless hours falling to your gaze. Like a young boy with a crush, he'll do anything to make you smile, even if it means acting like a fool to make you laugh. He's putty in your hands.

•He's bad about picking you up when you're being a REAL GREMLIN, and just pulling you away from your chaotic deeds when he knows you could cause yourself to be hurt. He wants nothing but to protect you, and maybe he just likes holding you every now and then 😉

•He sees you as a youthful woman, not a child. He loves your voice because he's used to gruff angry voices bossing him around and to hear something so soft and high, it's like an angel has fallen into his grasp. He feels #blessed

•Fun Fact: Because Thomas has long hair himself you'll catch him pulling his hair into a braid or a bun when he's getting cleaned up. You know what that means. He's CONSTANTLY running his fingers through your hair, twirling it around into complex braids and admiring the dirty blonde pool of hair he's made into a beautiful arrangement. Not only are you impressed, but he is SO GENTLE! Soft movements, never pulling or tugging (unless you want him to, but that's a whole different story) and smiling wide under his mask when you turn to the mirror and see it.

•You're hyper and wild? He loves it. There's hardly any energy here that isn't bad or menacing, so to see someone having a blast and jumping around, he's ecstatic.

•You need space? He understands. He gives you his room and workshop to yourself while he deals with his family. You're NEVER bothered by family because if there's one thing Thomas is, it's a loyal guard.

•He can't convey emotions easily either. When he gets mad but he can't get it through with words, he cries. He hates that and doesn't want you to feel like that. So anytime you need to convey an emotion to him he is overly patient and a wonderful active listener. He's weird with crying but he will comfort you in any way possible if it makes you feel better.

•Unbeknownst to his family, Tommy has more than one outfit. He's snagged countless band shirts from.... "visitors" so he has an overabundance! And luckily they're his size so you know what that means. Baggy, comfy metal tees for the babe.

•You two rock out in the kitchen while he makes you dinner. When Hoyt and the others are gone, you may see a softer side of him. He might even start dancing with you. He might even kiss you by a nice candlelit dinner.

•Thomas has no idea why his family is so crazy, but he'd love for you to find out 😂 he's more than willing to "find" you books on psychology and he might sneak one off to read himself.

•He loves games more than the next guy. Thomas has worked his entire life and had nothing but work to look forward to, so to be able to play... that's a gift he could never repay you for. He might "find" a console or an old board game for you two to play and if so, he will hold you tight while playing a video game. Not super competitive unless he's playing against Monty or Hoyt, he's very happy to see you win against him. Mortal Kombat may or may not be his favorite, and Clue may be a close second.

•You and Hoyt start fighting? He thinks not. You'd never seen such a big man run so fast! He practically knocked Hoyt down the stairs to jump in front of you. He's not about to let anything happen to you. You're the one gift that he holds dear to his heart and he's not going to lose you to his asshole family.

•In time, once they realize you aren't some phase Thomas is going through and you're actually going to stick around, Hoyt and the others warm up to you. When you need something from the next town over, what other girl can say she had a Sheriff's Escort to get tee shirts from Hot Topic with your boyfriend? Monty let's you both go through the abandoned cars and take what you want out, and you best believe "Mama" would LOVE you. She's never had a girl to care for and now she has a girl around the house to have tea with, the big tea lady comes over sometimes just to sit and talk with you. Thank goodness they finally got air conditioning! 😥

•Lastly, Thomas tends to hide things for you throughout the house. He's done it since you've met. Once you've been together long enough, maybe you'll find a ring he's tucked away in the grandfather clock down the hall. When you turn around to ask where he got it, he would be standing behind you with a bouquet of flowers he picked from the back garden. Who said a big Texan boy can't be a romantic!

☆☆☆

Hope you enjoy!

[xxxgrianeatsendermitesxxx]

The darkitechs

Ren had been feeling eyes on him ever since Sahara had opened, he hadn't said a word about it to the other hermits and he got the feeling he shouldn't. Or at least nothing bad.

Doc was curious and asked him how it went, Ren forgot about his feeling for a moment and was happy to laugh and joke with his friend about the hilarious gremlin fang and their many short comings. It was only as he was walking away that the feeling returned, the feeling of being watched. But that wasn't important, the fact that there was a block of sand where grass should be was. There was more then one of these mistakes, Ren shrugged it off as a bug but just in case, he followed it anyway. He followed it right out of hermitville and into a cave. He only placed torches on the sand blocks, the little yellow spots being what kept his attention after all.

At the end of the trail, a sign; 'Congratulations! You've won a free minecart ride! Have fun and remember to leave a review at the end!'. Ren shrugged and got in, tucking his tail under him as the minecart began to leave it's station. Rolling through a tunnel, down and up, round corners and bends, curling in on itself and even some drops. Ren was having fun and even began to relax, until a strange feeling set in; he'd fallen for this before. At the very start of the war- before it was even a war- False had done this...False and-

Grian. That's who's childish laughter he heard as the minecart came to a stop, dropping him through the floor onto a single slime block, in the infinity room. Ren didn't think he was under Grian's base as this room looked quite different; Tables around the edges of the room, an armourstand in the corner, a Sahara poster behind his head and the white of the walls, they weren't just white- they were plastered in the A for architech, a simple that made Rens heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

"Hello Ren!" The blonde was right there, a huge, beaming smile on his face as he stood before Ren in the crimson suit that really spoke volumes.

Ren realized that this might be because of what he'd said about them to Doc, especially when Iskall walked in, Mumbo in tow- Ren found it odd to see the frown on Iskall's face when the other twi has bright, happy smiles. It made him feel strangly more trusting of Iskall as the swede raised his eyebrow at Ren's face.

"Oh it's a rare occasions we take Mumbo's advice but when he gives ideas like this one- well it's hard to say no." He chuckled and Ren saw him gaze towards Mumbo with a curious smile, making him wonder what they had planned. Grian was behind them, going through a barrel. Iskall shook his head, almost ridding himself of a thought. "You know...it's hard to tell when Mumbo's genuinely being a spoon or if he's just lying to gain your trust-"

Grian nodded with a little chuckle, looking back to grin at his buddies- Ren almost felt like he was intruding. He went to speak, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I-"

"-It's the same thing with Grian really." Mumbo interrupted him, chuckling in response to Iskall's comments. Grian chucked a shulker box towards him, Mumbo caught him and nodded, pulling out some redstone and popping out a tile from the wall- revealing the redstone beneath. "You never really know when Grian's going to snap, it's like playing russian roulette with a living block of tnt." He chuckled, the other two following suit as the mustached man began placing redstone dust around Ren.

Grian then stood up and clapped his hands together- signaling something to the other two who immediately jumped into action, Iskall sharpening his sword whilst Mumbo stood to attention a strange headband-like comparator on Ren's head. Ren felt like the fun was over and these boys were ready to work- they certainly seemed like it in the way they stood. The blonde approached Ren, almost skipping, a dizzy smoke on his face. "We didn't really get any proper feedback from you after the opening! But that's ok- we heard you telling Doc what you thought of us!" Ren's eyes widened as he saw Grian throw his head back with a quiet; "Ahh..." - then snapping back, a few inches from Ren's with a twisted smirk and a ruby flash in his eyes. "We didn't like what you said."

"So we've decided to fix your opinion of us." Iskall spoke with a slightly bored tone, rolling his eyes at Grian's antics. "We can't have you running around and slandering our good name after all." He grabbed the last redstone torch from the chest and tossed it to Mumbo, who caught it with ease.

The raven haired man grabbed the torch and twirled it around in his fingers, the scarlet flames dancing around his hand. He turned to face Grian- allowing him to take charge. The blonde took this opportunity to smooth back his hair and chuckle. "Ren, buddy- look, we don't wanna hurt you but you're hurting our business. We can't let that happen." Ren watched him cautiously, not wanting to make any sudden movements when suddenly- as if a penny had dropped within Grian's brain, the blonde began to laugh. "Oh who am I kidding! Of course we want to hurt you!" He chuckled, the other two snicker quietly as they watch the blonde dance around Ren. "We find this kind of thing fun if I'm honest, it's just how we are." He shrugged and continued; "But here's what we want from you; take this little warning to heart and we won't kill you, got that bud?"

If Ren could've leaped to his feet in that moment then he would, but he was stuck- instead he simply growled under his breath when Grian took a step too close. Scowling at the blonde, his right ear twiched and so did his lip. "You're mad, you think I'm going to big you up despite your shortcomings- which for you Grian, the bar is pretty low- do you? Well I'll never big you or your company up now I know what you're really like, you physcos!"

All three of them looked taken aback, not expecting him to lash out like that. It was Iskall who recovered fastest, nudging Grian out of the way and sighing. "Listen to me, you don't want to make us angry, Ren. You can't talk to us like this, when we're together we aren't your friends- we're a business, and you're ruining our reputation." He flicked the lycanthrope's ears, causing poor Ren to flinch, concerned as to their plans for him now.

Grian nodded, he looked so upset- betrayed even, it was like he'd expected Ren to react positively to their threats. "Ren please, we really don't want to lose you as a friend but business is business- you understand?" He reached over, petting Ren's cheek- snarking at his expression. "Oh I bet you wouldn't say that kind of thing against our competitor would you?"

"He's partnered with them, that's why." Mumbo spoke up, still twirling the redstone torch in his hand. "Big logs.Inc™, partners with Concorp™ and associate to The Convex® via BigsLogs.INC's CEO, Ren Dog." He read it off a little book, putting it back in his pocket. "That was why he'd never say a bad word against them. He's not allowed to."

Grian hummed in thought, putting a finger to his mouth, pondering something. He stared at Ren, his eyes- usually soft and bright- pierced deep into his soul, seemingly scanning his mind. Finally, the blonde came to a conclusion- seemingly out of nowhere- and let his face all to a dark frown. "Kill him."

Ren spluttered, shocked that his supposed friends could be so cold and fearful of what Grian intended by death. "Wha-What?!?" He looked to each of the trio in turn, all of them seeming to get to work. Ren was panicking as he watched then, not sure if they meant permadeath or not. "What do you mean death??!" He cried out, he wanted to know- he sensed danger.

"We mean permadeath, Ren." Iskall sighed as he sharpened the blade of his sword, clearly not caring all too much. "What else?"

"You can't...YOU CAN'T JUST KILL ME!!" Ren screamed at them, the fear setting in as he realised what was really at stake here. His life and possibly the other hermits.

"Oh but we can," Grian chuckled, grabbing Iskall's sword from him and placing the tip lightly between Ren's collar bones. "and we will."

Ren pleaded with them, begging for them to show a little mercy but his pleas fell on deaf ears- two pairs of death ears, Mumbo decided to play nice. The redstoner tapped Grian on the shoulder, holding his torch up in gesture. The blonde nodded and stepped back- allowing Mumbo to take centre stage. He stood before Ren with a smile, holding the torch up where the canine could see it. "Now personally, I don't want to see you dead permanently. Not because I care whether you live or die but because I don't want to have to deal with Doc." Ren realized that Doc might be his unknowning savior and nodded, agreeing that Doc would fly into a rage if he lost another friend. Mumbo lifted a confident smile at that positive response, glancing back at Grian and Iskall for confirmation- they nodded. "So maybe it would be better if you just took our warning and our advice, you could respawn all you want then." Ren blinked at him in confusion and shock, Mumbo glanced at his torch- seemingly noticing it for the first time- and his fave lit up. "Oh!" He exclaimed, smiling happily- an expression now sour for Ren. "Fun idea Ren, I place this torch down and we tell Doc you've gone endbusting."

Ren realized that the torch was the only thing between him and permadeath, the torch that Mumbo had been playing with so liberally. Ren evaluated his options then took a deep breath- squeaking as he inhaled. He spoke clearly but with a shaky voice. "Plea...Please don't kill me, I'll big you up, I'll never tell them the truth, I swear- just don't kill me!"

The Architechs looked between each other, Mumbo sighing and putting his torch away. Grian chuckled, taking his sword away from Ren's neck and tossing it to Iskall- who caught it with ease and leant it against a chest. Grian began to smile brighter. "Oh I'm so glad we've got this all cleared up! Thank you for understanding, Ren." He seemingly had something come to mind, beaming at Ren happily. "Oh! Do you want to see my new dog?"

Ren felt a little safer now, glad to have come to an agreement with his captors. Mumbo had even untied his arms, letting his smooth down his hair, dry his eyes and adjust his sunglasses. He loved dogs- being half one himself- so he was happy to nod in response to Grian's question, seeing a dog would really help him right now.

Grian clapped his hands in excitement, stamping his left foot rapidly- a sign that he was truly excited, he never faked this and was in fact embarrassed by it. Ren saw that the other two Architechs began to get as high as they could, perching on shelves. Ren was back to being concerned now, where they scared of dogs?"

"Oh Daisy!" Grian called, pulling the leaver to open a large piston door, revealing a fully grown ravager- decked out in a pink frilly collar with a gold tag in the shape of a flower, reading; Daisy.

The ravager charged towards Ren, crushing him against the wall and knocking all the breath from his lungs- killing him almost instantly. The last sound he heard was the giggles of a maniac, a maniac his friends trusted completely- the he respawned.

[renthedog was killed by a ravager]

[hereticpriest]

Social Media Drabbles

Sero’s brows furrowed as a notification popped up on his phone, but he smiled when he noticed it was only that a TikTok had been uploaded by a friend. He flicked it open lazily with his thumb while chugging a bit of his recovery drink, and nearly spat the drink out when the video began to play.

Bakugo Katsuki, also known as Ground Zero, was cooking in a brightly lit kitchen. The camera was set up in one corner of the room, seemingly propped up on a shelf. He wore a black crop top advertising the hero Augment, a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants, and a white apron. The hero was tossing vegetables in a large pan, and he paused for a moment to shout over his shoulder -

“Babe, do you want food?”

The song ‘My Type’ by Saweetie began to play as the hero added a splash of oil to the pan and began to stir. A woman with pink roots and white hair danced into the room in a pair of skin-tight leggings and an oversized Red Riot t-shirt. She gave a couple of twerk-like movements while grinning and gesturing to the blond in front of her, then danced her way over to him and began pelvic thrusting barely an inch from his back while lip-syncing the song. A scowl marred Bakugo’s face as he turned to see what she was up to, sensing her presence even though he didn’t hear her. His whole act was softened by the fact that he didn’t even try to push his girlfriend away, even when her hips ground into his ass. A white hearing aid was visible in his right ear when he turned his head to look at her.

“You’re a fucking gremlin. Offer you food and you start humping my leg.”

The woman gasped, then punched her boyfriend directly in the left ass cheek before the video cut out and replayed.

@therealAugment 08-04

Stupidly hot? Check. Tsundere? Check. Chef of my dreams? Check!

#thatsmytype #groundzero #augment

Sero stared in a sort of awed horror, tapped the like button, then sent the video to one of his many groupchats with his old UA classmates.

ZerotoSero: http://vm.tiktok.com/b2k3mzc

ZerotoSero: Why ru coming for my brand Kei?

PikaPika: The fuck? What kind of loser gets mad at his gf for grinding on his ass?

Gremlin: IKR? My phenomenal sense of humour is wasted on this man

RedRiot: K but that ass punch looked like it hurt

ZerotoSero: Well deserved

PikaPika: Where the lie tho?

Splodeyboi: SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU NERDS

Splodeyboi: Who tf changed my nickname in chat?!@

Gremlin: Who tf doesn’t know how to use his phone?

Splodeyboi: I’m going to WRECK YOU

Gremlin: Promise?

PikaPika: Oop

Pinky: I left you idiots alone for five damn minutes...

~+~

Mina let out an excited giggle when a notification popped up mid-way through an intensive scrolling session on Instagram. She opened up her Snapchat and tapped on the unread message. Keiko was sprawled out over Bakugo’s lap, her cheek pressed to his shoulder and a hand tracing the column of his neck. The blond was clearly invested in the movie they were watching, as he didn’t react much when Keiko nipped at his jaw.

“I look intimidating until I smile check.” She sang, pressing her lips to his cheek, then blowing a raspberry right below his ear with her nose pressed against his hearing aid. Bakugo laughed and smushed his hand in her face, pushing her away so he could dive in to bite and kiss at her neck. Keiko giggled wildly, nearly dropping her phone before she could turn the video off.

“Fuck, those losers are so damn cute.” Mina said with a soft sigh, sending back a stream of coloured hearts in the chat.

~+~

“Aw damn it!” Kaminari dropped his controller in his seat as he stood up, brushing himself down exasperatedly, “I’m gonna get a drink. S’your turn Kiri.”

“Can you grab me a beer?” Kirishima requested, picking up the controller and flopping down on the abandoned armchair. Kaminari waved a hand in acknowledgement as he headed into the kitchen. Keiko pouted at the sight of him, putting down the bowl of diced tomatoes she’d been about to mix into a dip she was making. An answering pout from Kaminari had her opening her arms and hugging the hero as he shuffled in to cuddle her.

“You okay Pikachu?” Keiko asked in her poutiest baby voice. He gave her a little whine and a pout, drawing a soft ‘Tch’ from her, followed by a laugh.

“You’re becoming more and more like your boyfriend.”

“Am I? I didn’t think Katsu would hug you. Do you guys cuddle often? Can I join in? Go on, sparkplug. I’ll bring out some beers and some chips n’ dip.” Keiko promised.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Sarcasm queen.”

Kaminari headed into the living room again and collapsed in a chair, watching as Kirishima and Bakugo tried to find and kill eachother in the game. Keiko soon joined them with a six pack, a bowl of homemade tortilla chips, and a bowl of a homemade salsa-esque dip. She laid everything out on the table, popping the caps on three beers and setting them out for the boys. Kaminari tried to yank Keiko into his lap to distract Bakugo via jealousy, but Keiko dodged his hands easily and headed down the hall to her bedroom to grab a hoodie. Bakugo’s hoodie, of course. Kaminari was on his phone when Keiko came back into the room, circling the wooden dining chair Bakugo was sitting on. He quickly began to film as Keiko eyed her boyfriend for a moment from the side, then carefully slid into his lap facing him, snuggled tight up to his chest.

Bakugo grunted but didn’t protest, simply adjusting his arms around her so he could continue playing his game. Keiko hummed happily, nuzzling her face into his neck and letting her arms rest around his shoulders loosely. When he won, the blond leaned over to put the controller down on the table and replaced it with one of the opened beers, his hand grasping Keiko’s bum to keep her from sliding down his thighs when he leaned forwards. He swigged from the beer while Keiko barely even reacted to the movement, just kissed her boyfriend’s throat as he drank. Kaminari snickered, zooming in on his hand on her butt, then gasping as it gave a squeeze. He flicked the camera up to Bakugo’s smirking face, crimson eyes fixed on the camera.

“Shit.”

The video was later sent to Keiko and Bakugo, and the only reason he didn’t get murdered was Keiko insisting the video was adorable. Keiko trimmed out the ‘butt grab zoom’ and posted the video to Instagram, tagging Kaminari as ‘the creeper with the camera’ just to make him laugh.

~+~

The notification light flickered on Kirishima’s phone, so he dropped the weights he was lifting and grabbed his phone and water bottle to take a quick break. He squirted some of the water on his face, then downed the rest of the bottle before finally unlocking his phone.

Precious: Eiji-boo!!! Honey, come visit us! I wanna film a tiktok with you.

Precious: Have you seen the one I posted with Katsu?

Eiji: I haven’t! I’ll watch it on the way over.

Precious: See you soon Eiji! I won’t tell Katsu, he’ll be so happy to see you

Precious: You know, in his way.

Kirishima smiled, heading to the locker room to get changed and shower, but pulling up TikTok on his phone on the way. He opened Keiko’s page and grinned at the sight of her latest videos. A good half of her videos were dance videos, and the other half consisted of her pissing off her boyfriend to varying degrees. Bakugo didn’t use social media much, but he had Keiko to manage his public image with his PR rep, so he didn’t really need to. Kirishima liked that Keiko always respected Bakugo’s boundaries with what she posted or sent to them. He’d seen her record a video, show Bakugo, notice he didn’t like it and immediately delete it. It wasn’t often, however. The blond hero seemed to have endless levels of patience with his girlfriend’s antics. It seemed Keiko was the only person he had any sort of patience for.

The most recent video began with Bakugo lifting weights. Music played in the background as he bent over to pick up a weight, and as the music began to crescendo, Keiko darted onto the screen and slapped both of Bakugo’s asscheeks in time with the two claps in the music. She tried to run away after, but Bakugo caught her ankle and yanked her back to him, pinning her to the floor. The screen went black, then came back with the music repeating. Bakugo was shirtless now, and doing pull-ups in a doorway. Keiko watched him shamelessly, standing when he dropped back to the ground. She approached Bakugo, her posture and the sway to her hips saying he was about to be a very happy man. She slowly skimmed her hands over his stomach, leaning in for a brief kiss, then slapping his pecs in time with the claps in the music once again. She didn’t even have a chance to try and run. Bakugo picked her up and slammed her up against the wall, her legs around his waist and her wrists in his hands. The video ended there, and Kirishima was finally able to breathe. If anyone else had ever done that to Bakugo, he was sure they’d be murdered. He remembered (mostly fondly) when Kaminari and Sero went through their ‘fuck with Bakugo’ phase, and the many nurse office trips that resulted in.

~+~

It’s Present Mic who shows Aizawa the video. The Instagram video is exceptionally popular, but Aizawa wasn’t really a social media guy, so he never would’ve seen it otherwise. It starts a trend that is now blowing up, and Mic admits that he’s already filmed a response video. Of course he has. Dork.

It opens with Keiko on a flat grey background. She’s wearing her hero costume without her gloves, but the heavy scarring on her hands is obvious. As is the fact that she can’t close her hands fully.

“I am Augment, the unyielding hero. I have permanent damage in my hands from backlash of my quirk. I will never again be able to close my hands fully, or open them fully. My grip strength has also been reduced. My ability is not defined by my injury. I stand alongside the disabled, and those who have been permanently disfigured. Your disability does not define you. You too can be a hero.” Keiko offers a smile to the camera. Bakugo steps up beside her in his hero costume, his hearing aids clearly visible. He’s wearing his home ones, not the ones created as part of his hero costume. He swiftly fingerspells his hero name.

“I’m Ground Zero. I’m hard of hearing, but that hasn’t stopped me from being the number one hero, so you losers better step up too! Don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something, or else you’re just as weak as they say you are!” Katsuki shouts and signs simultaneously. He tended towards simcom, and always had, even when the hearing loss was minimal.

“What Ground Zero means is that true weakness is giving up to fear, while true bravery is acknowledging fear and doing what needs be done regardless.” Keiko says, then gives the camera a peace sign, “Real heroes are defined by their heart, not their power!”

“Hey! That’s not what I said stupid woman!” Bakugo shouts, and the video ends. The comments are full of linked videos of other people saying the same sort of things. It swiftly has expanded to include mental illnesses, mental disabilities, addictions and personality issues.

After a ton of needling from Present Mic, Aizawa will eventually make one about the backlash of his own quirk. All of his previous students end up commenting on it, and Aizawa will forever deny crying over it.

[melodiouswhite]

Classic literature vine compilations - Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde pt. 05

(A/N: Another compilation, because there are too many single vines and incorrect quotes)

Lady Summers: How many times do I have to tell you not to wear the red dress, when we go to a party? Alma: Come on, this is my best and favourite dress! What do you have against it? Lady Summers: If you want to walk around like this in Whitechapel, fine. But we're going to a court ball! You can't dress in red! Hyde: Awww, why not? It looks so gorgeous on her! Jekyll: Only fallen women wear red. Hyde: So? She's not one and still looks like a goddess in red. Alma: Damn right! Thank you, Mr. Hyde! Also, sister dearest, did I mention that this Romanian Baron Cleranescu will be there? Lady Summers: … Lady Summers: Never mind, dress like a vile temptress. Alma: *smirks* Gladly! Hyde: *grins* This is going to be fun! Utterson, Lanyon and Jekyll: … Lanyon: I have a sense of foreboding … Utterson: Me too. Jekyll: I bet fifty Pound Sterling, that this evening will be a disaster. Hyde: *smirks* I'll take that bet! 

--

Jekyll, after Lanyon left him: My boyfriend of 15 years broke up with me. Utterson: That's rough, buddy. Utterson on the inside: Perhaps now I have a chance …

--

Poole: Bradshaw, we need to hide all the wine bottles. Bradshaw: Another domestic with Dr. Lanyon? Poole: No, a full on fight. Bradshaw: On a scale from one to ten, how bad was it? Poole: An eleven. Dr. Lanyon broke up with him. Bradshaw: Oh crap. Poole: Yeah. And knowing our master, he will drink himself into a stupor for several days and nights, before burying himself in his work. Bradshaw: Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go hide the bottles.

--

Simon Stride: Lisa Carew, can this be you Simon Stride: What is this man that you have taken- Lisa Carew: Simon, shut up and listen here- Lisa Carew: You think you're cool, but you're mistaken.

--

Utterson: I'm the calmest person in the group. Hyde: Some twats hurt Lanyon. Utterson: … Utterson: Mr. Hyde, would you do me a favour? Hyde: Fine, because it's you. Utterson: Kill them all. Hyde: *smirks predatorily* Gladly.

--

Lady Summers: Alma, you need to come out, we're going to be late! Alma: I'm a lesbian! Lady Summers: Not what I meant, but I support you!

--

Some rando: *pointing at Hyde* Lol, look at that kid! He has women's hips! A prostitute: Are you suicidal? *quickly backs away* Hyde: *slowly turning around* What did you just say about me?! Hyde: *grabs the guy's ankle and flings him around like a ragdoll*

--

Lanyon: Who's in our bathroom? Utterson: I hired a drunk gremlin to compliment us. Hyde, to Lanyon: Are you a model? Lanyon: … Yes.

--

Lanyon: Why do we even need coming out day? I mean, everyone's a little gay- Jekyll, with Utterson in his arms: Well, I'm a big gay and today I'm coming out as the world's biggest gay!

--

Lady Summers, to the gentlemen and her siblings: Hey, everybody! Today my second cousin Wilhelm pushed me, so I'm starting a kickstarter to put him down. Lady Summers: *opens a chart* Benefits of killing him would be I would get pushed way less.

--

Lanyon, after breaking up with Jekyll: Gha! I still can't believe he did that! Lanyon: But then again, what did I expect. When was the last time he actually treated me like his boyfriend. Lady Summers: Precisely five months and seven days ago, when he surprisingly remembered your anniversary. Lanyon: *sighs* Why did I date him? Lady Summers: Because he dabbed it up with you. Lanyon: Why did I let that happen? Lady Summers: Because he got you both full up the knocker. And because you were wild young men in love. Lanyon: Why am I even discussing this with you right now? Lady Summers: *shrugs* Beats me. 

--

Utterson: I think I see now how it happened. Utterson: Last evening at dinner, when the baron saw Her Ladyship give her rose to Dr. Lanyon, he was furious. He dropped a steak knife into his purse- Hyde: Big deal, I took a whole plate set! Utterson: NOT NOW, EDWARD!!! 

--

Alma: Listen, you punk! You wanna fight with someone, you're gonna have to fight with me! But I warn you: I did time in Newgate. Some prisoner: Newgate's a men's prison. Alma: I know, it took my sister bailing me out a month later for them to find out. Hyde: … This was amazing! However did you pull that off?! Alma: I live and work in Whitechapel, it's not that different. 

--

Jekyll: And that girl's father still wouldn't leave me alone! What is that with all these people thinking that a bachelor would be eager to get married at the age of fifty?! Hyde: Gee, I dunno. Maybe it's because you're rich and good-looking and a doctor? Or because of everyone is expected to marry? Then lead a dead boring marriage with a dead boring woman, while pretending that everything is sunshine and rainbows? Oh, and as the frosting on the cake, make a bunch of screaming, annoying brats? Jekyll: *chuckles* I don't need a wife to have all that. Hyde: *ignoring the last jab like a boss* What about the girl? Was she at least funny? Jekyll: She was cute and nice to talk to, but she was clearly not on board with her father's intention to make her marry me. Besides, she was seventeen! If I ever got around to marry (which will never happen), it would have to be someone closer to my age. Hyde: *winks* Like your lawyer? Jekyll: *blushes* That … that's illegal … Hyde: *smirks* But you would, if you could, right? Jekyll: … If he wanted me. 

--

Jekyll: Babe, do the thing! Utterson: *genuinely smiles* Both Jekyll & Hyde: *breathless* Holy shit … 

--

Hyde: I don't do other emotions besides anger and excitement. Utterson: *exists* Hyde: *blushes* Oh no, he's making me feel other emotions! 

--

Jekyll, holding a human heart in his hand: Edward … what is this?! Hyde: A heart, obviously! I thought you're a doctor, you ought to know what a human heart looks like! Jekyll: I do, but why is it in my office?! Where did you get it from and-? Hyde: Well, today is Valentine's Day, right? I wanted to give you something special and since I couldn't cut my own heart out, I took the one of the guy who humiliated you last week. Jekyll: … Jekyll, trying his best to hide his disgust: Uhm … thank you, Edward. You shouldn't have … but flowers or a box of chocolates would have done it too. 

--

Alma, on the telephone: Y'ello? Lady Summers: What did you do. Alma: Alright, but you can't be angry at me. Lady Summers: What. Did you. Do?! Alma: Well, first: I was minding my own business- Lady Summers: SCHWACHSINN!!! Alma: I waaaaas! Lady Summers: And what exactly happened, while you were "minding your own business"?! Alma: Well, I was on my nightly walk through Whitechapel, doing a class, when suddenly these scumbags blocked my path! Alma: And one of them said: "LIE ON YOUR BACK!" And I responded with: "I'm not your wife last night!" And they took exception to that. Buuut, you know how that song and dance goes. Alma: So I castrated all but one of them! Lady Summers: What happened to the last one? Alma: Pussed out like a bitch! Silver lining: They will never pass on their disgusting rapist genes! 

--

Utterson, to Jekyll: So, Lady Summers told me that Hyde can take a corporeal for to a certain degree, when you're in control. Jekyll: Yes, but it only works in my lab. Why? Utterson: Where did you get that hickey on your neck? Jekyll: *blushes* Wh-wha-I-uh-I, uuhhhh- *Jekyll suddenly turns into Hyde* Hyde: *grins* Oh yeah. I totally did that. Utterson: *blushes* So … uhm … did you two … you know … Lanyon: Did you fuck each other? Utterson: Lanyon! Hyde: Nah, but we would, if we could! Utterson: … Lanyon: Whelp, there goes my mind- hey, are you okay, Gabriel? Utterson: *on the verge of tears* Oh my god, why, oh the pictures in my head, I'll never- 

--

Jekyll & Hyde: *yelling at each other like a dysfunctional couple having a domestic* Utterson, Lanyon & Lady Summers: *watching* … Utterson: I'm slowly losing my will to live. Lady Summers: I'm slowly losing my mind over their idiocy. Lanyon: I already lost both. -_- 

--

Lanyon: *singing* When I think about my worries and I think about my strife, here is what I simply say- Lanyon: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! 

--

Hyde: uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu … Jekyll, slowly losing his last shred of sanity: You know, I'm this close to killing myself just to spite you. Hyde: *falls silent immediately* 

--

Jekyll, about Utterson: Sir, that's my emotional support lawyer. Utterson, about Jekyll: Sir, that's my emotional support mad scientist. 

--

Lady Summers: Your most exalted Majesty, I would like you to meet my emotional support physician. *points at Lanyon* Lanyon: *blushes like no tomorrow* Queen Victoria: Awww! Congratulations, dear! He's not the most handsome fellow, but he's definitely a keeper! ^_^ Lady Summers: I know. <3

--

Hyde: It’s time for your daily dosis of pain! Jekyll: Oh no, please don’t! Hyde: *injects him a liquid* Jekyll: *whimpering* Ow.

--

Jekyll: Where were you when my entry got only four likes?! Lanyon: I was making four accounts, bro. Jekyll: Bro!

--

Henry, about Edwina Hyde: Sir, that's my emotional support delinquent. Edwina: Huh? *oblivious and confused as heck* Gabriel: *concern for husband and new friend intensifies*

--

Utterson: Do you want more tea, Edward? Hyde: Nah, thanks, I'm good. Utterson: Anything else? Hyde: Well, now that you mention it, there is one thing … Hyde: *points to a nearby bush* Could you tell Dr. Lanyon to stop stalking us?! He’s starting to annoy me! Lanyon: *pops out of the bush, armed with a rifle* Ohhh! You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Hyde?!

--

Lady Summers: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. And rats. Those little bastards will getcha. 

--

Utterson: I have a problem! Lanyon: Throw the ring into the fire. Utterson: I don't have a ring! I have Hyde! Lanyon: Then throw the Hyde into the fire. Utterson: But I can't throw Hyde into the fire! Lanyon: *shrugs* Well, then you have a problem. Utterson: … Thank you. 

--

Hyde: *looking at Sir Carew from afar* Hyde: How about I beat that old geezer to death? Lady Summers: *unsheathes her sword* How about you don't?

--

Hyde: My evil knows no bounds! Also Hyde: *witnesses child molestation* EW, WHAT THE FUCK, THIS IS TOO MUCH!!! 

--

Lanyon: I'm pleasantly surprised. Hyde: Huh? Why? Lanyon: So you do have standards after all. Hyde: o_e Hyde: You're referring to my reaction to that pedo bullshit, aren't you? Lanyon: Yes. Hyde: … Hyde: Dr. Lanyon, do you realise that by suspecting me of pedophilia, you would accuse Jekyll as well? Lanyon: *thinking* Holy shit, I didn't think of that! Hyde: Think next time, before you jump to conclusions. You're lucky Jekyll holds you so dear. Lanyon: Mr. Hyde, I'm so sorry! Hyde: *frowns* Yeah, you better be. 

--

Lanyon: Milady, I would die for you. Lady Summers: … Lady Summers: Listen, I know that this is supposed to be romantic and all, but please don't die for me. How am I supposed to live without my doctor? Lanyon: *speechless*

--

Hyde: Wait, how many lovers could an asexual doctor possibly have had? Two? Three?  Lanyon: Well, it depends, what is your definition of a lover?  Hyde: *grins* Any person you bring to a fevered pitch of uncontrollable ecstasy! Utterson: *stares at him* Lanyon: Oh! Fifty-six. Utterson and Hyde: *stare at Lanyon* Hyde: *lowers his tea cup* … Excuse me? Lanyon: I had about fifty-six lovers. Of course that was before I began to seriously date Henry. I probably would have had more, but I wasn't allowed to start dating till I was sixteen. Hyde: Fifty-six? Fifty-six?! Utterson: Oh god, stand back! He's gonna blow!  Hyde: What do you mean, you had fifty-six lovers?! You told Henry you were a virgin, when you hooked up with him!  Lanyon: Hey, you can have a lover without having to go all the way!  Hyde: You cannot! If that were true, Hastie, that would mean you were a slut!  Utterson: Oh come on, Edward, how can you say that? So the man had fifty-six lovers in one year, he's not a slut.  Lanyon: Thank you, Gabriel- Utterson: He's THE slut! Lanyon and Hyde: *stare at him* Utterson: He's the grand Poobah of slutdom! He's the easiest man in this room! Hyde: Gabriel John Utterson, you take that back! Utterson: The slut is dead, long live the slut! *points at Lanyon* 

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

Karma

Summary: Futaba gets more than what she bargained for when she proposes Akechi is gay. Futaba/Goro

Disclaimer: I don’t Persona 5

————-

“He’s gotta be gay.”

The other phantom thieves looked towards their youngest member curiously, blinking several times, not quite getting her statement.

“What?” Akira asked her. Futaba rolled her eyes.

“Akechi—he’s gotta be gay.” Futaba repeated. Everyone blinked at her before Ryuji starting snickering into his coffee, trying in vain to hold in his laughter.

“That’s… interesting.” Makoto was able to voice out.

“How do you know?” Ann asked. Futaba scoffed.

“Come on! Don’t tell me you guys haven’t realized it! He’s always coming in here to flirt with Akira! I’ve been watching them dance around each other and I’m waiting for my OTP to become canon!”

Akira dropped the mug he was cleaning while Ryuji spat out his coffee, laughing obnoxiously. Even the rest of the Phantom Thieves looked amused.

“F-Flirt?” Akira parroted. Futaba wagged a finger, grinning.

“Come onnnnn. He’s never once ogled Makoto, Haru, or Ann! And don’t deny it boys! I know you guys done it!” Here Yusuke, Ryuji, and Akira spluttered, faces turning red. The three mentioned girls blushed prettily at the thought of Akira ogling them.

“I-I would never degrade myself with something so improper!” Yusuke exclaimed. Futaba gave him a deadpan look.

“Says the guy who has entire drawing collections of these three.” She voiced. Now it was Makoto, Haru, and Ann turn to splutter, turning their glares onto Yusuke. He shrunk down in the booth, sweating at the women eyeing him.

“It’s purely for artistic purposes I swear!” Yusuke cried as they proceed to wail on him.

“Ha! Serves you right, Yusuke! You know our ladies are fierce!” Ryuji was dying with how much he was laughing. Futaba’s grin grew even wider.

“So I guess those pictures I found on your phone are just for art as well, Ryuji?” Futaba sang sung and the three angry women turned their attention to the blonde next. He waved his hands in front of him rapidly.

“She’s lying! I respect each and every one of you!” now it was Ryuji’s turn to fight off the girls trying to get his phone. Meanwhile Futaba busied herself with stealing Ryuji and Yusuke’s curry as Akira sighed, sliding into their empty spots. He gave her a stern look.

“You just love to tease everyone, don’t you?” he scolded, but Futaba knew he wasn’t really mad. He could never be mad at her. Futaba grinned maniacally, rubbing her hands together.

“It’s more fun that way! Life’s too short to not torment one’s friends.” Futaba answered gleefully. Akira eyed her in disapproval.

“One day it’s going to bite you in the butt, you know.” Akira remarked. Futaba shrugged.

“Oh hush, no one can out-tease me! Now, back to the matter at hand, Akira, when are you and Akechi gonna tie the knot? Do you think he’s going to confess to you? Ohhh won’t it be cute if you do some cheesy stuff like kiss in the rain?” Futaba snickered. Suddenly, Akira smirked, seeing something behind her.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Akechi yourself?” Akira grinned. Futaba stopped laughing, blinking and turned to see Goro Akechi, the one and only detective prince giving her a stern look. She paled, wondering why Akechi suddenly seemed scary.

Akechi then smiled his usual polite smile, but Futaba still felt wary. There was something about Akechi that seemed off. She hoped he was just annoyed with work and not because he heard her.

“I’m sorry, what was that you were saying about me and Akira kissing, Sakura?” Akechi asked nicely, but Futaba felt warning bells go off into her head. So much for not hearing her…

“Errr… ummm…” Futaba unintelligently replied. Akechi moved closer to her, and Akira smirked.

“I’ll leave this gremlin to you Akechi. Hey guys, let’s go up to my room.” Akira called to the others. They saw Akechi looking down at Futaba, and they knew the navigator was finally caught. Not arguing, they dragged Ryuji and Yusuke’s unconscious bodies upstairs. When the door clicked, signifying she was on her own, Futaba nervously laughed.

“I-I was just joking Akechi! I always tease everybody.” Futaba tried to show no offense, but what scared her is that Akechi smirked, eyeing her darkly. Futaba gulped, backing up into the booth. Akechi came closer, kneeling into the booth.

“So my sexuality is interesting to you?” he said smoothly, looking sadistically delighted at her squirming. Futaba blushed.

“W-well! I mean! You never look at Makoto, Ann, or Haru so I just assumed…”

Here his eyes turned hungry and his smile was predatory, making her heart race. Why did he look like he wanted to eat her up?

“Perhaps someone else suits my tastes better? Did that occur to you?” he asked her, still with that smooth voice of his. Futaba felt the effects from his maxed-out charm intensely. Akechi crawled closer to her, lifting a gloved hand to finger her cheek. Futaba gulped as Akechi smirked wider.

“O-oh? W-w-who?” Futaba stuttered out. Akechi inched his face closer, his lips so close to hers, but before Futaba could freak out, he turned his lips towards her ear, one of his hands snaking up to her neck where he cradled her head and the other on her hip, drawing circles into her flesh under her shirt. Futaba blushed brighter.

“Oh, you know, she’s pretty mischievous. She likes to tease others, but it seems when it’s her turn, she turns into a shy mouse.” His tongue darted out and it licked her earlobe. Futaba gasped as Akechi started placing open mouthed kiss on her throat, biting and sucking lightly.

“I-I’m not a mouse!” Futaba protested, her breath hitching when Akechi found a sensitive spot to suck on. He chuckled, sucking the spot even harder. Futaba was sure all the blood vessels in her face were going to burst soon. “A-A-Akechi! That’s going to leave a mark!” she cried.

“Good.” He told her bluntly. His hand at her waist went under her shirt, caressing more of her skin, teasing just below her chest. Futaba gasped. “Then people will know you’re mine.”

“I didn’t agree to this!” Futaba whined, but it was cut short by a moan escaping her as Akechi towered over her, tilting her head so their mouths could meet. He ravished her mouth, tongue caressing hers possessively. Futaba squeaked.

Yup. Those blood vessels must’ve burst by now.

Futaba didn’t know what to do. She’s never kissed anyone. Akechi dominated her, aggressively wrestling her tongue with his. Video games did not prepare her for this! She shyly stroked his tongue back as her adrenaline went into overload while Akechi continue to pet her. He growled appreciatively at her response. He ripped off one of his gloves roughly, his bare hand now caressing under her breasts, skin on skin. Futaba felt hot all over, as his other hand clutched at her hair.

‘Dating sims did not prepare me for this. Dating sims did not prepare me for this. Datingsimsdidnotpreparemeforthis!!!’

“Wrap your arms around me, little mouse.” Akechi took his hand out from under her shirt and grasped one of her wrists. Futaba numbly followed, her brain pretty much short circuited already, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing with his hair a little. Akechi smirked down at her flushed face. His usual princely smile came upon his face then, laughing at her softly. “You’re so cute.”

“T-Then I can go?” Futaba asked in a daze. Akechi’s eyes darkened and Futaba knew her answer. He inched his face closer to hers, frowning.

“Now, little mouse, I have to teach you a lesson first. Not noticing my affection? I can forgive that. You’re too sheltered after all. But to outright say I’m after Joker needs to get itself out of your head as fast as possible. And the only way to do that is to stake my claim on you.” Akechi told her menacingly. Futaba gulped, feeling dizzy from his personality changes.

“Don’t I get a say in this?!” Futaba exclaimed.

“Considering you haven’t pushed me away once already tells me your answer.” Akechi smirked. Futaba spluttered.

“B-but! You maxed out your charm! It feels too good! You must have a cheat code!” Futaba cried, pointing at him. Akechi looked downright amused.

“I maxed out my charm, huh? Is it stronger than Joker’s?” Akechi teased, but Futaba could see if she picked the wrong one, there would be consequences. Futaba face was practically glowing. How have her blood vessels not burst yet???

“I-I’m not the best judge here.” Futaba tried to weasel out of the question, and her answer made Akechi’s face darken again. Futaba cursed herself. Akechi pinned her down on the booth again, biting harder on the sensitive spot on her neck.

“It seems I need to do more convincing for my little mouse to give me the correct answer.” He bit down and Futaba winced, knowing there would definitely be a bruise there. He licked the spot gently, soothing her. She slid her hands over his chest and Akechi gave a growl of approval, using a hand to cup her ass and pull her closer to him. Futaba felt every muscle he had as they rubbed against each other, and it did nothing to stop the harsh beating of her heart. On the contrary, it only served to make her more hot and bothered.

Akechi rejoining their lips didn’t help her sensory overlord either. She could smell only him. She could feel only him. She could taste only him. Her senses, her very being, was dominated by Goro Akechi and it felt so good that she felt she was going to explode, and she wasn’t sure if any revival spell could bring her back.

She snaked her hands up shyly, playing with his hair softly, an attempt to stay grounded, but even touching the skin on the back of his neck with her hands electrified her as well as him. His hand tightened on her ass as they rubbed against each other. Was she affecting him in the way he was her? Did she make his entire being ignite like an inferno with every brush of friction like he was doing to her?

As if sensing her dazed state, Akechi parted from her, staring down at her curiously. Futaba stared back, sure she was in another world, because there was no way these feelings were of this world.

Her hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, surprising Akechi before Futaba smashed their lips together clumsily, her inexperience clear. However, it didn’t matter to Akechi, who groaned in pleasure and leaned her back against the booth softly. His gloveless hand came up, caressing her neck and cheek tenderly, before slowly parting from her mouth the final time. They stared at each other, panting, unsure of what to do now.

After a few moments, Akechi seemed to have decided she had enough torment, and separated from her painstakingly slow. He stood up, replacing his glove on his hand, never taking his eyes away from Futaba, laying there, blushing prettily just for him. Not Joker.

The beast inside him was sated for now, but he knew he’d come back for her, and make her fully his. He was too greedy—too selfish—to let her out of his clutches now that he’s gotten a taste. She shouldn’t have kissed him like that. She shouldn’t have given affection.

Now he can’t let her go.

Masking his feelings, he gave her a polite grin, holding out a hand to her to help her up.

“I think you’ve kept Akira and the others waiting long enough, Sakura. I just wanted to stop by, but I’ll be heading out now.” He told her in his usual princely attitude. Futaba took his hand shakily, not easily recovered from his passion like he was. He was careful to not pull her to him again. If he got his arms around her, he’d steal her away forever.

“T-Thanks.” Futaba said, the aftereffects of their kisses leaving her body humming. She watched Akechi go before wobbling up the steps towards Akira’s room. She opened the door to see her comrades.

The Phantom Thieves took one look at her, registering the pretty blush, the multiple love bites on her neck, the dazed expression, and couldn’t help but grin.

“So… Futaba.” Akira started, grinning teasingly. “Is Akechi gay?”

Futaba just fainted.

—-

There you go! My first Aketaba! I hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you want me to write more Akechi/Futaba!

[foolscapper]

Exploding Head Syndrome: A MCU Post-IW Fanfic | Ch. 1

(READ IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.)

It takes two years for them to right everything. Two long years — most of it spent in chaotic shades of tears, screaming, silent defeat, and a very unsuccessful five stages of grief for everyone involved. It's a world where billions of people have all had their candle wicks pinched in tandem between ugly purple fingers, their lights gone out in the pits of their mourning loved one's stomachs. There was not enough time in the day for funerals, not enough room or money for smoothed gravestones, and far too many people that will never, ever be identified as dead. Those people, the ones without families and friends, they simply never existed. Perhaps in the backgrounds of neighborhood photos they weren't meant to be a part of, but ultimately? They are vagabonds who just blew away in the wind.

And those who did have people left behind, who mourned and prayed for them?

They were just memories on walls.

Nobody from their team of heroes took their noses out of books or their eyes off screens, carving out new and old information on celestials, on resurrection, on righting the wrongs done by an arrogant bastard who decided to snap his fingers and purge the universe of any happiness; that same purple bastard had vanished without another word, and Thor had paced through the Avengers headquarters those first days with guilt etched into the lines of his weary face. His brown and blue set of eyes looked into Tony's, and his lips had pulled into something of a haunted grimace, and he said with no ounce of doubt, "This could have been over, had I aimed for the head."

The half of the Asgardians that Thanos had spared came to earth just a few months after; they filled in the broken pieces of a fractured glass Wakanda that had been devastated by the loss of their king. It was an intellectual gathering, more than anything, a concoction of mad sciences that would yield more together than apart. Steve Rogers kept in touch with them, eyes and ears waiting to be sated by something fruitful, about Thanos and his whereabouts.

They didn't need flip phones because they lived down the hallway from each other, and sometimes when Tony wasn't pouring through information with Bruce, he was letting the captain talk his ear off about world news that might matter if Tony would let it. With every passing day, the Sokovia Accords became a relic, something from the old world. The fight in Germany almost didn't feel real anymore. But it was, and it had been the catalyst in meeting a young man from Queens who loved Alt-J and Star Wars.

The scroll bar on the missing children's pages Tony's accrued is so tiny, he can barely see it on his screen. He sits there at the kitchen table while Morgan sits on his lap and slams blocks around like a tiny radioactive dinosaur. And he's tired and regretful as every face seems to blur and morph into Peter's (his goofy shirts, his awful Mets hat, the fifth Jansport backpack that month). Pepper makes Tony coffee, rubs his shoulders, makes breakfast for their daughter. He looks at both of them every day and reminds himself he doesn't deserve them.

Rhodey brings updates from Ross, as an exasperated courtesy more than anything.

Tony also cares very fucking little about that, too. Natasha is in full agreement.

Oh, and the raccoon stuck around, too. Two years, and Tony Stark made friends with a kleptomaniac trash panda who lost almost every person he's ever come to love, and the blue chick might as well be counted among the lost, because she hit the atmosphere running and never stopped (but if there's anyone Tony would bet on for killing Thanos through hate alone, Nebula might be able to accomplish it before supper). Rocket heads out from time to time to try and find clues in the deep reaches of space — "Where's Thanos? Have you seen where he ran off to? Where's that ugly son of a b—" And you know, it ends about as successfully as the last time the little garbage bear rolls back in. Truth be told, he likes Rocket a lot. Good eye for tech, familiar snark used to push people away, a raging hate-boner for a certain mass murderer...

Ah, yes. The bastard who sacrificed his daughter, go fucking figure. Tony looks at Morgan's freckled face as he changes the umpteenth diaper that day and can't fathom the concept of being her end. It's horror fiction, the pages ripped out of books conjured to be nothing more than a terrible daydream of a bored writer. 

It's the same horror fiction where Peter clings to him sobbing for help, falling when his legs disintegrate underneath him. 

Tony looks for that kid everywhere, despite knowing exactly where he is.

He waves the photograph in Pepper's face, inches from her, the sharp juts of his fingernails biting into the Polaroid like dog teeth — (retroware, a camera found in a dumpster, delicately and lovingly re-mantled into a working camera, pictures snapped in quiet labs on lazy Sundays where Tony pretends the kid shouldn't be there) — but Pepper just looks at him like he's a wild man, and maybe he is, with owlish imploring eyes and unkempt hair, but nobody is listening, they just talk about their day and nobody is looking at this kid in this photograph: the kid with the curvy brown hair and pinching, smiling eyes and thin lips, he's only a kid, he's missing, does nobody see that? But Pepper just puts her hands up at the sides of her head and shrugs like he's out of his mind, and she's talking about being behind schedule —

"Tony, honey, there's nothing there — I don't know what you want me to see." And she is getting progressively more furious at him, because there's nothing, but he can clearly see this teenaged boy's face looking back at him when he turns the image back to himself: he's in the lab, Tony took the picture (say cheese, and the kid said provolone, because he's a massive nerd, but Tony would have done it too, so what does that make him), and no, Peter's not in the lab, he's not anywhere. Not in the ground, not in an urn, not standing on his feet, not stuck to his hands.

"No. No no no, look at him, why - why are you not looking at him?" Tony asks, curled fingers pecking over the shirt on his chest, right where his blue heart used to be, and he's so fucking angry that Happy said it Pepper said it Steve said it Everyone says it, the same thing, different voices: "It's a black box, Tony. It's just a black box. The picture's not developed. Something got screwed up, sorry."

He looks at the photo again and wants to see a black box, wants this to just end, but he knows it can't. In the Polaroid, the kid is tied to a chair in sweltering heat in the middle east, under the shadow of cave walls, streaked with mud and blood and wet from torture, and Tony has it on good authority the human body was not made to live in the sea, not made to breathe the deep dark waters in a two-foot basin of murky water. But Pepper looks right through the photo every time and asks him if he's remembered to water the ugly office plant she put on his desk — he shoves it off and it smashes all over, dirt underfoot crunching with the same texture as Titan. The desk is covered in nothing but Polaroids of every waking fear he's had, but they all swear on their lives—

"They're all just black boxes."

He wakes up with a strangled sound of panic, the sheets ripped out from under Pepper's soft pale arms, and she darts awake alongside him with little choice in the matter. He isn't sure how to even begin to explain the nightmare, so he doesn't, which seems adequate enough for her at this point; she instead rakes kind fingernails over his scalp and he lets himself rest in his own sweat, until eventually it dries up with her ability to stay awake with him. But there's no sleeping now. Which is fine, because not an hour later Morgan's crying in a crib that Tony doesn't let leave their room. She's smart — not quite two yet, but she's got an eye for how to get what she wants. She slaps her hands on the bars like she's a chubby convict and says, "Juice!" like she hasn't already had enough juice in the day to turn into a berry.

"... I got her," he says with feigned exasperation, but more than anything, he just wants to hold onto the kid and remind himself she won't crumble into dust. He walks her through the hallways and stares out large windows, places where the memory of Peter Parker ghosts the halls in Tony's mind. He stands where Peter watched in boyish awe as the jets took off — where he'd lead him down a path towards reports and a new suit. Regrets dance like spots in his vision. Run along now, young buck. 

He misses the others, too. He thinks about them often, wants to get them back from the jaws of death.

But everyone knows Peter is a special case, for him. A special mission set aside to complete.

There's an aunt across the city that somehow manages to get up and go to work every day. She's all that's left of a family she'd married into — the last Parker, putting unopened Christmas and birthday presents in a room that hasn't been touched in two fucking years. Tony doesn't know how she does it, after the Parkers and her husband's death; perhaps it's not always the abundance of loss that breaks someone; perhaps it's the abundance of loss that helps steel them for the next blow.

Either way, he gives her as many promises as he can muster, and she just nods like she can actually trust him.

"If it isn't the terrible terror," Rocket slurs from the end of the walkway, as he rounds the bend. Tony can't believe his eyes; he's sure there must be some youtube video out there of a raccoon holding a vodka bottle, but seeing it in person is another thing altogether. The short-statured creature adds, "Not the gremlin baby, I mean you."

"Robbet!" Morgan says, gleeful and unaware of just how alike her and Rocket's walking performances would be toe-to-toe. 

Tony is less enthused.

"Did you — Did you fly back drunk?" And really, he's not one to talk after some of the stunts he pulled in his suits, but when he looks out the window there's a clearly tipped over spaceship on the front lawn of the headquarters, almost meeting the tarmac where the quinjet resides. 

Rocket wags a paw at him like he's nuts. "Seemed like the thing to do. You Terran nimrods are great at it."

"You could've hit the building, you jackass," he hisses, "There are people sleeping here you could've killed."

"Wouldn't be the worst way to go out on this stupid planet."

"You're so lucky I'm holding a toddler, or I'd kick you in the head."

"Bring it, old man." But the longer the squabbling goes, the more Rocket seems to completely lose whatever steam he has. They end up sitting right against the big glass windows, and Tony lets Morgan rub her grubby hands all over the panels, because he's pretty sure the cleaners here prefer her messes over the ones Tony leaves in the labs (you know, the ones that almost start fires). The kid eases something inside him, and he's not one to recommend having a kid as therapy (because it definitely didn't solve his panic over being a shit dad), but it at least keeps him grounded. Gives him perspective. Focus.

"Robbet," she commands, fidgeting with Rocket's ear. The raccoon's gotten used to the attention, so much so that he just lets it be, and Tony watches expectantly for words he knows are gonna come sooner or later. This isn't the first time Rocket's stumbled in like this, though he'd hesitate to say it's common enough for an AA meeting. 

"Nothin's out there, Stark," he says tiredly. "Thanos is in the wind after we pinned him in the rice terraces. Nebula's out there givin' her... I was gonna say blood, sweat, and tears, but I dunno how much of her is even left t'do that. But the universe is too damn big." He rubs his eyes tiredly in a way that is obscenely human. "We ain't ever gonna get the bastard, much less reverse the damage. I can't keep putting off..."

"Mourning?"

Rocket and Tony lock eyes for a moment, the billionaire's face unreadable.

Rocket looks away, and for once, he can't usher up a snarky, assholish retort. 

"Mourning."

And Tony could understand that much. The world has already been grieving and crying it out, but the Avengers? They haven't allowed themselves to do it. Scott's got his kid, and he's all his kid has now — the cops had found her wandering a park alone, crying for Ant-Man to save them, and Tony's paid for therapy but fuck if that always helps. Clint refuses funerals for the two children he and his wife lost, not until Tony can look him in the eye with complete certainty and say 'there's nothing else we can do'. And Tony is not gonna lie about that shit, not even for a moment. Steve always chases for Bucky, and Tony expects as much (both in a fond way, and in a resentful way that makes him wanna strangle the bastard; what, we can't all be perfect at making up)... He also talks about Wanda and Vision and Sam often, and the room always descends into pained silence by the time they both realize how many people they've lost.

"Sorry I called you a gremlin," Rocket suddenly says, and Tony's confused for a moment before he glances over and finds Morgan sitting between Rocket's legs, cupping his furry face in her hands like she's trying to figure out why his beard is so much more out of control than her father's. Suffice to say, the drunk raccoon eventually passes out against the window, and Natasha makes her cameo in the shaded moonlight long enough to click her tongue and heft the creature up. Usually it'd be a more violent affair, but he's so out cold, he doesn't even so much as twitch.

"I'll get him in the recovery position, I guess," she says with a quirk of her brow. 

One time he'd asked her in a moment of admittedly godawful anger how she managed to be a stone-faced robot in the wake of all of this; she had slammed him down onto a table and said it was the hardest thing someone can ever do.

"Could always throw him into a tree," is his reply, and she smirks — but tucks Rocket in, regardless.

They're all he's got now.

Two weeks later, Captain Marvel gives them the location of Thanos.

One week after, Thanos is dead and Bruce and Tony are staring at the melted, twisted remains of a gauntlet adorned with six stones.

It's a full month, when the snap is finally undone.

"W-what the flying fuck just happened?"

Probably not the most eloquent way Peter Jason Quill, Star-Lord and fearless leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy, could have reclaimed his life and body, but that's the way it happened. One moment his sinking despair had been blown away in the wind with the rest of his crumbled body; the next, he's gasping for air like a newborn baby with his hands on his chest — unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel helpless and lost. Then his name comes back to him, his age, where he's from, followed by the first of many memories: his mother and him, making cookies with The Rolling Stones blaring on an old radio in the background. 

Then all of it follows like a stampede trampling over each other: the ravagers, Ego, celebrations full of booze and old 70's and 80's hits with his team; he groans pitifully and remembers too suddenly that his mother is dead, Yondu is dead, Gamora is dead — and then he cries like he's never cried before in his goddamn life. Like, full-bodied sobbing, harder than he's ever allowed himself in the last thirty years. His fingers curl in rough alien soil and every nerve in his body is alight with something he can't really explain, leaving him shivering. When all is said and done, it's cathartic, but his head is pounding and his eyes are red and wet and — and his legs don't want to work, exactly, so he drags himself into sitting and stares all around him with a helpless, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Where are the others? 

Drax crawls out from behind the rubble with a bit-back curse as if summoned by Peter's sheer will alone, and Strange floats down from god knows where. Both of them wipe their faces and breathe like they'd just run a marathon, one you'd sprint for — to try and escape the returning memories. The questions bubbling under the surface can wait (when, why, how, who, where; where the fuck is Thanos so I can kick his head in and ignore the aching guilt of the stupid shit I've done). Peter's lips curl into a relieved grin despite himself and he staggers to his feet, rushing to meet Drax before the lumbering warrior can collapse on his knees; he steadies the two of them, and between four colt-like legs, they make it work until they can move on their own. 

"Drax, holy shit. I'm so happy to see you right now, I saw you and — where's Mantis? And... Stark and the kid?" 

He's not gonna pretend the last two weren't cliff notes in his order of priorities, compared to Mantis. That's his sister, his family, and his heart is pounding at the thought of losing anyone else from his team... because Gamora's so fresh in his mind, an abrasion so new and raw and — don't think about it, Quill, don't think about it right now, not until you can make it to a ship and find somewhere to lick the wounds. It's so hard to breathe, so hard to keep his memories in check. Judging from the pinched expression Drax has, he can only imagine the miserable television show going on in that thick skull of his. He had family, he had a life, a home, and now it's all coming back in thunderous waves. 

Drax perks. "I hear her. This way!"

And like clockwork, Mantis sobs more loudly from over the hill of debris, and Peter is already leaping over and down it, displacing rubble in his wake. It claws him up as he goes, but what's one more injury if it means getting to his team sooner? Add another wound to the dozens lanced in his heart, whatever, he can take it. What he can't take is finding someone he loves gone again because he wasn't good enough—

("I love you, more than anything.")

"Mantis! Shit, dammit — hang on, we're coming, hang on!" He skids to a stop at the bottom with Drax hot on his heels, and it's only there that he's relieved to find she's unhurt, curled up and sitting on her legs; her back is trembling, hands poised in front of her — no, no, hands pressed to the temples of a crumpled figure with shaggy brown hair and a terribly youthful face. He swallows hard at the sight, guilt coiling in his guts, because he had made this kid a footnote in his concerns all but fifteen seconds ago.The other Peter.

("Peter, huh? Samesies!" the spider kid laughs.)

The kid is on his back, and his eyes are open, face lax under Mantis' shivering fingertips. Quill automatically assumes the worst: that he didn't make it, because even if his skin has a healthy color, he doesn't look alive. Why didn't... he come back, too? What went wrong? Crouching down beside his friend, he examines the boy and his listless gaze that looks right through him, right through everything. A death stare. He's seen so many in his life — from ravagers and enemy alike — that he doesn't question it further than that.

"... Mantis, it's okay," he says softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's gone. We gotta move."

"No, no, Peter," she weeps, freezing him with her desperation, "You're wrong. He's still here. I can feel him. But th-there's so much pain — something is wrong, and it hurts."

"She's right," Strange says with a surprisingly soft voice, "He's still breathing."

Quill watches with wide eyes the rise and fall of the kid's chest, and then the surprising drip of tears into the shells of Peter's ears.

"It hurts," Mantis says again, black hair curtaining her pained expression. "He's further and further away. I can't do anything. He is so afraid."

Peter Parker's eyes are open, half-lidded, without any sign of life behind them. But Quill feels like every word Mantis sobs is a memory he can't quite bring into focus... like — like a dream he'd forgotten in the time he'd been nothing but ash. Like a beacon, scrambling all of his senses and blinding him just before he had burst back to life from under the current of death. He remembers a snippet of what it was like on the other side, rolling over and over like he's stuck in a sea — a sea of souls. He remembers it was the kid's voice, calling out from oblivion as they were hoisted back into their bodies.

He remembers hearing his own voice... remembers saying, thinking, screaming: Hang on, kid, I got you!

— it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—

He puts his hand gently on Peter Parker's cheek.

It's warm. His body breathes in steady rhythm.

So why isn't there any life behind those eyes?

The lab is quiet, save for the rambling of an excited high-schooler bragging about their odds at the new decathlon competition. Tony doesn't really mind so much, though he's not about to tell that to the kid sitting there in his old thrift shop sweater; the same kid whose hair is curling out of control now, escaping the prison of hair gel he adds in the early morning. Peter's always so animated with his hands, most of all — always fidgeting, always moving, always so eager to sign and gesture faster than Peter's mouth can move.  "And Ned's got a brand new video-game he's dying to try out, but I dunno if he can handle it; it's a horror game, you know? He's kind of a big softy — oh."

Tony glances at Peter with a scoff and a raised eyebrow, though his smirk fades a little at what has drawn the kid's already battered attention span from the conversation. Peter holds an old trophy in front of him that he had taken off the nearest shelf: a replica, actually, but still no less important. It's the arc reactor, etched with those intimate, familiar words that Pepper still whispers to him when they're alone and living in their own little world.

"Aaww, look at that," Peter says with a playful smile, pressing the trophy against his chest, where the reactor would've resided in Tony's.  "... Proof that Tony Stark has a heart."

Peter's smile softens painfully, his eyes reflecting a long and sad goodbye before he crumbles away into nothing.

[rose-of-the-court-blog]

A Little Bit of Gay History

Inspired by this hilarious post: x

I took some (a lot) of liberties with this, especially with the beginning, but I hope no one minds! This is my first fic for the aftg series, so hopefully the characters aren’t too ooc :’) 

By the way, I don’t necessarily like writing Kevin as a constant drunk. So this is a one-time dealio. My next fic will be ab him overcoming his dependency on drinking <3 I love Kevin Day y’all

Neil Josten was used to nights out in Columbia. He enjoyed the drive, the house, and the time spend with the Monsters, his family. It was a time where all five of them could relax (sort of). Neil had gone with the Monsters a dozen nights and expected the same order of events to happen each time: drive, Eden’s Twilight, dragging Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin’s drunk asses home, then properly relax at the house. What he wasn’t expecting tonight, however, was a drunk ass Kevin practically clinging to Neil by the end of the night.

Earlier in the evening, Kevin and Aaron had done competitive shots and did so many they lost count and couldn’t tell who won. Next, Kevin joined Nicky at the bar to try out some of Roland’s new mixes. Then Kevin shared a quiet drink with Andrew after he’d been dancing. It was around this time that Neil noticed that Kevin’s green eyes had gone a bit hazy and his stance a but wobbly.

Andrew had silently gotten up, which meant Neil and Kevin did too, but he motioned for them to stay. Neil figured he was either going to the bathroom or going to find his wayward twin and cousin. Normally, Neil was fine with being alone with Kevin. Tonight, however, has turned out to be a different story and had Neil fervently wishing Andrew to make a hasty return.

“Neil, I need you to listen” demanded Kevin. “Listen!”

Kevin grabbed Neil’s shirt and shook him a little, as if he could make Neil magically listen to his profound insights by force. He’d been trying to gain Neil’s attention for the five minutes. Even though Neil was with him and listening to his rambling the entire goddamn time. 

Neil closed his eyes. He had a headache.

“Do you understand? Neil, do you understand anything at all?”

Kevin may be family, but that didn’t mean Neil didn’t want to sock him right in the throat.

Neil took a deep breath. “No, Kevin, I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything of what you’re saying. Do you know why? Because you have yet to get to the fucking point you useless vodka-fucking bastard.”

“You can’t fuck vodka.”

“You’re right. It’s a talent only you’ve personally achieved. Congrats”

“How would that even work? Vodka is a liquid-- wait. Lubricant.”

Neil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could do nothing but stare as Kevin drunkenly pulled out his phone to google it, almost dropping his phone three times in the process. Neil wanted Andrew to hurry back more than ever.

Andrew.

The very thought of Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky coming back to Kevin spouting nonsense about using vodka for motherfucking lube was enough to make Neil desperate. He didn’t want to think of the consequences of Kevin and Nicky bonding over hypothetical alcohol-based lubricants. No. Just...no.

Reaching up on his tiptoes, and hating himself and Kevin all the more for it, he made a desperate grab for the phone. “No. Shit, no. Hold still. Kevin don’t you dare--”

“Apparently,” Kevin loudly began, easily evading Neil’s grabby hands thanks to his gigantic asshole height. “vodka as a lubricant would be very unpleasant thanks to the acidic properties. What a shame.”

Neil grabbed Kevin’s arm, yanked it down, and then used Kevin’s newly healed hand to slap Kevin in the face with it.

“Stop that,” Kevin hissed. He yanked his arm back, harshly, from Neil’s grip and overbalanced, falling back into the wall with a thud. Kevin blinked. Then slowly began sliding down the wall to the floor in all his drunken glory.

Neil wasn’t impressed. “You deserved it.”

Kevin’s eyes were still hazy, but he managed to scowl all the same. “If anyone deserves to be smacked it’s you. You haven’t been listening this entire time.”

“That’s because you never got to the actual point. You’ve just been talking nonsense at me this entire time.”

“Nonsense?!” Kevin spluttered. “the gay history of the world isn’t nonsense!”

What.

“What?”

Kevin scoffed. “You never listen.”

Neil was two seconds away from committing murder. Family be damned.

When Kevin opened his mouth to speak again, Neil was quick to interrupt him. “You can tell me all about your history stuff later, but right now Andrew is coming back and we need to start heading back to the tower.” That last part was a lie, but Kevin didn’t need to know that.

“The junkie is right. Get up, time to go.”

Neil startled so badly that he nearly toppled over and landed on Kevin. A hand shot out and grabbed Neil’s bicep and pulled him back abruptly. He turned and gave Andrew a grateful look, who squeezed his bicep gently before releasing him. 

“Jeez, Neil, be careful!” Nicky laughed, arriving out of nowhere to Neil’s right. Seems like Neil was correct in assuming Andrew went to look for his family. When Neil turned back around he saw Aaron lifting Kevin up and putting one of his arms around his shoulders. Privately, Neil thought they looked ridiculous with two drunk-out-of-their-mind men leaning on each other, with one being pint sized and the other a giraffe with a queen tattoo, but wisely chose not to say anything.

Wymack would be so proud.

Andrew turned, having established that Aaron could handle Kevin, and led them all through the exit to the Maserati. To home. 

Neil had all but nearly forgotten the Incident That Shall Not Be Named by the time Monday rolled around. Andrew had perfectly distracted him all weekend, with witty remarks and truths and kisses, that Neil didn’t really give Kevin’s odd ramblings a second thought. 

Andrew had subtly asked him what Kevin was on about when he’d arrived, but Neil had been stubbornly silent on the matter. Neil wasn’t going to be repeating any of what he heard to Andrew. He didn’t want to relapse into another headache.

Now, though, Neil was coming back from his morning jog. The day was starting off nicely. He’d woken up, limbs entangled with Andrew from their chests to their toes, the closest they’d ever held each other. A morning kiss (and the subsequent complaint that Andrew would never allow this again because morning breath wasn’t worth it. Neil knew better though). Being allowed to wear Andrew’s favorite hoodie while out on his jog. The crisp, cool morning air--

Ping!

Neil stopped. It took a moment, but then he remembered the iphone Allison had bought him. He rarely used it, but he knew the sound the his email notification going off. It was frustrating how every little sound the device made gave Neil small bouts of fright. Ridiculous. 

Scowling, Neil pulled the damn phone from his lower pocket in his cargo shorts (jorts forever banned by the Foxes’ collective effort -- even Aaron’s). Pulling up the email, however, Neil quickly became confused. Why was Kevin e-mailing him?

To: Neil Josten

From: Kevin Day

Subject: The Affair of Radu III and Mehmed

Surely, this was a mistake? After all, Neil distinctly remembered Kevin rambling on about a paper he was doing on a man named Radu III. Neil hadn’t paid much more attention beyond that detail because it was about history and honestly? Fuck that.

But why was the subject titled “The Affair of Radu III and Mehmed” then? What kind of history essay was this?

What the fuck, Neil thought. What. The. Fuck.

...

Neil clicked it.

“DELETE IT!” Kevin roared. “NEIL, I’LL MAKE YOUR LIFE HELL IF YOU DON’T DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW!”  

With a shit-eating grin, Neil dodged Kevin’s tackle and made a break for it.

“NEIL!”

Everyone was staring at them. 

Neil didn’t dwell on this. There was no point. In the matters of life and death there was only you and the mean of survival. For Neil, that meant getting to the other side of the court and into the goalies post as fast as possible.  

A jump over some fallen exy balls, running in zig zags through his teammates, a mad dash to the goal-- 

“Andrew!” Neil called, breathless, coming closer to him. Andrew was there, watching the entire chaos unfold, and making no effort to help him. Neil slowed down.

A fatal mistake.

A hard body collided with him, tumbling them both down to the court, with Neil face-planting right at Andrew’s feet.

“Got you, you shitty little gremlin.” Kevin spoke menacingly in French.

One moment Neil was wheezing and gasping for air, and in the next, the body was suddenly off of him. Neil took the opportunity to turn on his back.

Andrew had grabbed Kevin and lifted him off Neil and was now leveling a severe gaze at him. For once, Kevin ignored the threat Andrew posed in favor of the one Neil had.

Neil slowly grinned up at him, and responded in French. “Gay history, huh?”

Kevin made to lunge at him again but Andrew put his arm out and stopped it. 

“What the hell is going on?” Dan demanded. 

“Kevin and Neil both messing around during practice?” Allison peered down at them, haughty, but curious. “I have to know what’s going on. Come on, tell us the drama.” 

Renee put a placating hand on Allison’s arm and put herself in the middle between the three around the goal and the rest of the foxes. Her smile was kind but her voice was firm. “Their business is their business. You all should know that by now.”

“We know that,” Matt protested, who was looking very bewildered right now. It’d be comical if only Neil weren’t facing Death By Not-So-Heterosexual-Kevin right about now. “But come on! We can’t help being curious. Exy is like their life blood, they never do this.”

“Some things are more important than exy,” Kevin gritted out. A shocked silence filled the court.

“Holy shit.” someone whispered. Neil was too focused on Kevin’s deepening scowl to investigate.

“Do you think this has anything to do with what Kevin was talking about at Eden’s?” Nicky loudly whispered to Aaron, who shrugged. 

“What happened at Eden’s?” asked Allison. 

“Nothing,” stressed Kevin.

“Nothing, huh?” Neil snorted. 

“You stay quiet.”

Neil opened his mouth to tell Kevin to fuck off but just as he was doing so Wymack burst in.

“What the actual fuck is going on here? Dan, Kevin, Neil, explain. Right now.”

Before Dan or Kevin could speak, Neil took his chance. “Kevin accidentally sent me his history essay this morning instead of his teacher. It was a 7 page analysis on the gay relationship between Mehmed and Rabu III, the brother of Vlad the Impaler, and how historians continuously overlook their affair due to heteronormativity.”

“Excuse me,” Nicky cut in. “What.”

Neil shrugged and waved his harm towards Kevin dramatically. “Not-so-heterosexual-Kevin is real.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes at him. “I never said I was heterosexual. Just that is was easier.”

“So, like, you’re what? Are you bi?” Allison asked. 

“Smooth.” 

“Hush, Dan. I need answers.”

“Same,” Nicky agreed.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Me being bisexual has nothing to do with the game. Leave it alone and get back to practice. A year later and I’m still disappointed in your subpar playing.”

“Hey now, you can’t just write an entire essay on the gay affairs of royalty figures, drop that bisexual bomb, and then tell us to drop it!”

“I can, and I will, Nicky.”

“And I don’t have enough whiskey for all this,” Wymack said. He had his hand covering his face as if that’d protect him from the stupidity he was surrounded by.

Suddenly, Nicky grinned. “Dark Kevin, tell us all how gay history really is.”

Kevin sighed. He looked to the ceiling as if the heavens could save him and then closed his eyes. “Everything. Everything is fucking gay.”

[shadowqueen24]

Everything Was Fun, Until It Wasn't But Maybe It’ll Get Better Pt 1

This is my gift for Devon, @idevon for @voltron-ss

Summary: The day before Keith leaves for Christmas break, Pidge takes him out for some fun in the snow. The day Keith actually leaves though isn’t all that fun, it’s terrible and Keith kinda wishes he had stayed in his dorm with Pidge. Hopefully, he’ll find something to lighten up what started as a terrible day.

Pairing: Keith/Pidge(Katie Holt), Keith/Lance

Pt. 1 (Congrats, you’re here!) Pt. 2 (Here)

Can also read it here (Ao3)

Keith Kogane woke up to the sound of his 9am alarm blaring throughout his room. He didn’t have any classes today and forgot to cancel his alarm. He blindly searched the bed for the source of annoyance.

“Hey, I’m trying to finish my work here, turn off your alarm.” Pidge snapped, her fingers dancing her across her laptop. She was this close to finishing her thesis paper and she didn’t need Keith’s stupid alarm ruining her concentration.  

Keith groaned, finally managing to shut off that damn alarm. A pillow smacked him the face.“ What part of quiet, don’t you understand?” Okay, so Pidge had to admit she may be a little agitated due to lack of sleep, but Keith would get over it. He was used to this already.

The black haired boy glared at her, she returned the look back with full force. Keith dragged his body to the bathroom so he could throw some water on his face. If he didn’t fully wake up soon, in his delirious state, there was a possibility that he would mistake Pidge for a gremlin, and actually throw her out the window. He turned on the bathroom light and got a good look of himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a face full of bags, dead eyes, and sharp-like teeth. Not the nicest looking face, but who cares. People didn’t go to college and not get bags. If someone has, Keith would track them down to punch them in the face for being so lucky.    

He reentered the room the find that Pidge had made her escape. Probably to grab coffee from the cafeteria. He threw a random shirt he found on the floor on. It was nice long sleeve black one that no one saw him wear yet, making it easy for him to wear it and not get called on it.

“You’re disgusting,” Pidge commented, walking to her bed. Scratch that, looks like he had been caught. She was holding a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. She seemed much more chipper than she had been earlier now that she had food and coffee in her.

“You wear the same bra like every day.” Keith shot back. He struggled to put his boots on.

Pidge rolled her eyes. Keith would never understand the hard task of finding the perfect bra that still fits after you buy it. She had to milk this bra for all it’s worth. Keith was still trying to put on his shoes. “Unzip it dumbass, it’s not rocket science.” She ducked as a boot came flying at her. She snickered and threw it back.

“So,” She took a bite of her bagel. “Are you excited to see Shiro?”

Keith let out a small smile. Of course he was excited to see his dorky older brother this weekend. They hadn’t had much time to see each other ever since Shiro and his fiance, Allura, moved from Arus to Altea, Allura’s home country. It was a big adjustment, Keith had gotten used to seeing Shiro everyday, even after Shiro had graduated. He was always there to make sure Keith was taking care of himself properly, (“Keith eating 10 packs of noodles a day is not healthy and will kill you!” “Says the weeb trash who tried to survive on pocky and anime alone.”) or just enjoying college period. Shiro promised that Keith could come visit during Christmas break, which couldn’t come fast enough. He didn’t want to admit it but he missed Shiro terribly, even his atrocious dad jokes.

“Yeah, I am. What about you? Are you going home for Christmas this year?” Pidge shook her head, her eyes focused on her on her laptop.

“Nope, not enough in the Pidgeotto bank to afford a flight back to Balto,” Seeing the look on Keith’s face, she shrugged. “It’s not so bad, I can still talk them and I get enjoy personal time with my brother fangirling over me getting into Arus Academy,” She side glanced him. “Or Roommates with noisy alarm clocks. You say you’re not emo, but no one listens to My Chemical Romance anymore Keith.”

Ignoring the jab at him,Keith continued to frown. He was at a crossroads. He didn’t like the idea of Pidge spending Christmas by herself, but Pidge was an adult and could take of herself.

He stiffened when arms wrapped around him. A face buried itself into his chest. “Stop it with the face. As touching as your concern is, I think I’ll be good without big bad Keith protecting me for two weeks.” Keith closed his eyes, leaning into the hug. Pidge and Keith weren’t incredibly touchy people, especially when it come to each other, but they had their moments. Keith cherished every single one of those moments.

Pidge looked up and Keith pretended not see the little specks of tears forming her eyes. She would deny it, but Pidge was secretly over emotional. She once broke into tears after she accidentally deleted an episode of  her favorite show, “Mad Ninjas” from the DVR. Pidge shoved him away. “Okay, cringe fest over.”

Keith chuckled, same old Pidge.

Pidge glanced at the clock on the wall. “You don’t leave until tomorrow morning, right?” She questioned. Keith nodded, confused.

“Why?”

“Let’s go on an adventure!” She didn’t give him much of choice, grabbing his hand, she lead him out door. She still had her outside attire on from her earlier run to cafeteria but Keith scrambled to grab his coat as he was rushed out. He wasn’t sure where Pidge was taking him or what they were going to do on this so called “adventure”, in fact the only time he ever seen her so excited about something that wasn’t tech related. It soon came to Keith that Pidge was taking him to the park.

Arus’s park looked almost like a winter wonderland during this time year. There were twinkling Christmas lights were hanging all around, giving off a festive feeling.The trees and grass were covered in layers of the crystal snow that had descended upon it the night before. The managers in charge of decorating the park deserved a raise. There were all different types snow figures. Keith squinted at odd looking one. It looked like some type of cat but one couldn’t be too sure. The lake was converted into an ice skating rink that everyone from adults to children were enjoying themselves.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Pidge sneaking up behind him. Eyes full of mischief, she pulled back her arm and launched a snowball right at the back of Keith’s head. The dark haired boy didn’t see it coming and jumped at the coldness of the snow, letting out a yelp.

He smirked. Pidge was going to regret that. If she wanted a war then she was going to get one. Meanwhile, Pidge didn’t like the look Keith was giving her. The consequences of her actions came in the form of snowball to the chest. Another one hit her in the shoulder. It dawned on her that she had made the mistake of challenging one of the most competitive people ever to snowball fight.  

She shrieked when as a snowball came barreling into her chest. There was but a second between the first and the second snowball. Keith was merciless in his onslaught. She needed to find shelter soon. “I’m a total idiot, there are tons of trees here.” She fired a snowball, an idea forming.“Trees with tons of snow on them.”

Running as fast as her legs would take her, she darted towards a group of trees. Keith immediately followed after her, he looked around for a sign of her. The black haired boy saw movement from the tree to his right. Like a lion stalking his prey he slowly crept up to tree that Pidge was surely was hiding behind. He prepared to pounce.

“Gotcha!” He announced, hand held up and snowball in hand. The space behind the tree was empty, leaving Keith to wonder where his small companion had escaped to. A whistle sounded through the air. Keith turned around to see a very happy Pidge smiling in triumph. She pointed above him.

The tree he was standing under was covered in a mountain of snow that would collapse at the slightest movement. Pidge had tricked him and like a fool, he played right into her hands. He held his hands in surrender.

“Truce?” He tried. Pidge’s only answer was to throw her snowball at the tree. Way more snow then he would have liked was dumped on him. Snow was in places that snow should not have been. “I guess not.”

“THIS IS SPARTA!” Pidge yelled jumping onto him. Both of them went crashing into the ground. He was ready to let out a long complaint, but the words died in his throat once he realized how close they were. So close that if Keith were to lean up, their noses would be touching.

Had Pidge’s glasses always framed her face like that? Keith knew Pidge was pretty er no, pretty wasn’t the right word. Beautiful was more like it, but now, she looked out of of this world. The air around her wasn’t like anything he could describe and it made him feel alive. 

Pidge made him feel alive.

“Hey.” He breathed, a puff of cold air escaping.

“Hey.”

Devon, I enjoyed writing this because I’ve never written Keith/Pidge before and you may have caused me to bump this rare pair up on my voltron ship list, so thank you helping me experience something new. I hope you enjoy this fic and enjoy your holidays.

[balarouge]

Meltin’ with Sir Elton John: 50 years of music for a yellow brick farewell in Edmonton | Edmonton Journal

If Saturday night’s all right for fighting, surely there was some room Friday for an almost three-hour embrace from Sir Elton John?

The first of his two Edmonton Farewell Yellow Brick Road shows was a sequined spectacle of rock and roll history/fantasy, from the opening number Bennie and the Jets on, dazzling and sometimes melancholy, but above all gracious and inspiring, especially when the ever-seated John dipped into the highly personal, whether it was through anecdotes of life-saving sobriety or — the night’s musical highlight — he and his eternal songwriter Bernie Taupin’s Someone Saved My Life Tonight.

Elton John and his beard of sparkles. Larry Wong / Postmedia

Dressed in a twinkly glitter tuxedo that drew tiny fireflies on his neck through the night, the hits came quick, the band following the bumping and slightly raunchy All the Girls Love Alice with I Guess That’s Why The Call It the Blues.

On the giant, hyper-high-definition movie screen behind the show, you could see every one of John’s keys reflected in his amazing sparkle shades as he smiled, “We’re excited to be here; we’re ready to play, and we hope you like what you see and hear.”

And how. Noting, “It could have been the Chipmunks, I couldn’t have cared less,” he enthusiastically thanked Aretha Franklin for covering Border so early in he and Taupin’s career, injecting them with confidence. The video above showed young people with their heroes projected onto them, finishing with a family photo of John and his grandmother.

Next, guitarist and band leader Davey Johnstone pulled out the double-neck for the sinaglong Tiny Dancer, which demonstrated how effectively John has threaded into subsequent pop culture. That singalong moment in Almost Famous, 29 years after Tiny Dancer was released, still gives us the cue to belt it out in any public situation as soon as those first eight piano notes hit our ears. The accompanying video of hard times in L.A., complete with the Circus Liquor clown, was breathtaking. As was the production all night, really — from the sculpted frame of John’s accomplishments around the movie screen to the singer’s occasionally coasting-around on his Million Dollar Yamaha grand. He relied on the crowd for Dancer’s high-note chorus, which was just fine by the 17,000 or so, just on the edge of a sold out show.

More superb video behind Philadelphia Freedom, a freestyle dance-off fusing disco, hip-hop and an absolute rainbow of body movement genius dancers. Down on the stage in the real world, not one, not two, but three percussionists included the completely wild Ray Cooper going mad on the congas, Nigel Olsson grinning and singing along whenever the camera was pointed his way, and John Mahon helping hold it all together. Man, what a tight band, extra impressive in their frequent subtlety with just a tambourine slap here, a finger through the bar chimes there.

After the whirlwind, John described his writing process with Taupin where he’ll be handed a song on paper, and, “a little movie will start to appear in my mind,” which he then sets to music. They’ve been at for over 50 years, he noted.

Bennie there, done that. Larry Wong / Postmedia

Cooper and John were extra kinetic for the multi-part Indian Sunset, leading us into the obligatory concert space video, as recently seen for Judas Priest’s killer Take These Chains, speaking of fabulous queer icons with interstellar legacies. This trip to the cosmos was brought to us by Rocket Man, of course (one fan even in a spacesuit, stage right), with John bobbing his head throughout. This was followed by the upbeat Take Me to the Pilot, circling down into Sorry Seem to Be the Hardest Word.

What’s happening?!? Fish Griwkowsky / Postmedia

A Rick and Morty weird-level animation played behind the preposterously good Someone Saved My Life Tonight, Captain Fantastic wandering through an acid-scape of Hieronymus Bosch monsters, which led to another highlight, Levon. This one turned into a full-on jam highlighting each of the players in turn, Johnstone flirting with Day Tripper, John licking his lips like Rudy Giuliani — though without the brain-addled vampire vibe. This got the often-seated crowd up and dancing, and John walked around and flexed, looking extremely happy at the love.

Marilyn Monroe had Candle in the Wind sent her way, a layer of 1974 nostalgia upon an even older layer of Hollywood call-back, the footage of her posing and sometimes crying under layers of makeup and champagne extremely complicated to watch.

Then, a booming special-effects and smoke-machine thunderstorm brought in Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding, John changed into a silky, Asian flower print suit and amazing pink glasses.

Things got heated at Elton John Friday night. Fish Griwkowsky / Postmedia

Burn Down the Mission saw John’s piano lit on fire with more on-screen special effects, and after a war-and-surfers montage during Daniel, John got extra personal. “In 1991 I had an epiphany — I hated the way I lived my life. I reached for help and I got sober and I got clean.”

Having saved himself, he was in a better position to help others, including with the Elton John AIDS Foundation. “In 1992 it was a death sentence,” noting now, thanks to medical science, no one need die of HIV-related illness, and that it’s time we “stop the stupidity, stigma and hatred. It’s 2019, for Chissakes, wake up!” He also noted he doesn’t care who you vote for, he’s just here to entertain — though couldn’t resist, “I’m an optimist. In a few years we’ll get rid of the people that we need to get rid of.”

This fired John up for Believe, and a pleasant, sweaty Tom Selleck cabana vibe followed for Sad Songs (Say So Much).

Then John began to slowly say goodbye with style and grace: “This is the 50th year that I’ve been touring. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I will miss you guys.

But, “I have a family now and they need me and I need them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me led into a raucous The Bitch Is Back, then I’m Still Standing, looking back at his impact on popular culture, including moments of South Park, The Simpsons, The Lion King and a moment squeezed in between but not actually showing the now Disney-owned The Muppets.

Speaking of which, Crocodile Rock was dedicated to his fans, and thus we did all the laa la-la-la-la-la singing of the chorus so John didn’t have to burst anything.

The mighty Sir Elton. Larry Wong / Postmedia

A confetti explosive Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting ended after two and half hours of continuous music, and for the encore — John now in a green and pink smoking jacket with the most regular of tinted shades — Your Song summoned Ewan Macgregor belting it out to Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge.

Finally, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the video showing off the singer’s former keyboard gymnastics, legs up in the air, meanwhile in Edmonton the piano taking one last roll across the stage (until Saturday night and all that fighting, of course).

Then, amazingly, 72-year-old John dropped his jacket to reveal a tracksuit, climbed onto a Gremlins-style assist-lift elevator and, waving goodbye as he rose up the ramp, disappeared into the wall for good. Timed perfectly, he was up on the screen, walking down the Yellow Brick Road one last time, which melted into a golden sunset.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to make an exit.

Well done, Sir … with love.

All the Girls Love Alice

I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues

Rocket Man (I Think It’s Going to Be a Long, Long Time)

Take Me to the Pilot

Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding

Sad Songs (Say So Much)

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me

The Bitch Is Back

Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting

This content was originally published here.

[karabites]

Hey here’s Chapter 2 of this. it came out twice as long as the first part.  warning I guess for the brothers being shitheads

ao3

Karamatsu woke with a frustratingly familiar headache. It was late morning, he was alone in the futon, and he was grossly hungover.  It wasn’t uncommon for him to overestimate his drinking abilities and end up blackout drunk, especially considering how little he had to drink to get to that point, but usually he only did that at Chibita’s cart with his five other brothers nearby to drag his sorry ass home or conveniently forget him in the park.  He groaned and buried himself into his pillow as it registered that last night had not been one of those nights.  Last night had been a formal affair and he had been escorted by his sweetest friend, his most foolhardy and trusting friend, his friend that was so generous to pretend to be his date.

He’d probably saddled his poor companion with more responsibility than he signed on for by becoming drunk, hadn’t he? Ugh. He hoped he hadn’t hurled in front of him or anything.  Chibita probably already saw him as a painful NEET, he didn’t need to be a burdensome painful NEET.

From downstairs he could hear the bustling of brothers and the sharp clattering of breakfast plates that had woken him.  He would love to go back to sleep, but considering his brothers were likely to stomp back upstairs in a few minutes and forcibly rouse him anyway…

Karamatsu pushed himself upright and squinted through his still sleep-shut eyes.  Water. He needed water.  Right.  With a grunt, he heaved himself out of the futon and shuffled downstairs, wishing very much he could just call on a brother to bring him a glass, but knowing they were likely just as grouchy and hungover as he was.

His heavy footfalls down the stairs announced his presence to his brothers sitting around the table.  Though they normally ignored his “good morning brothers,” this morning they acknowledged him.  Perhaps it was the way he grumbled it through a sleep-slackened jaw or the way he shuffled into the room like an awakened corpse that caught their attention.  Or maybe they were just prepared to pick on him for being the last up and, he realized as he glanced around the room, the worst off after last night.

Todomatsu was the first to pipe up.  “Morning, lover-boy,” he teased.  Even this early in the morning his voice was already snarky and saccharine sweet as always.  “See you didn’t go home with your gross boyfriend last night.”

“I bet Shittymatsu pissed him off by insulting oden or something,” Choromatsu chimed in over his rice.  He rolled his eyes as he stuffed a bite or it into his mouth and mumbled something that sounded like “it’s not even that good anyway.”

Karamatsu glared at them from the doorway into the kitchen.  They’d insulted him and Chibita all last night, that part he could remember.  He wasn’t sure how it went after he’d started drinking at the reception, but he could guess it was similar.  Chibita had initially stood up to them and yelled and made a big show of threats, but that didn’t stop them from being dicks for the rest of the ceremony.  They started out jeering at Karamatsu for dating a guy when “we always thought you all about those Karamatsu Girls or whatever.”  Of course he still was, but whether they believed him or not, telling them that didn’t get them to behave any better.  They shifted to insulting Chibita himself, one of the most selfless and warm-hearted people he knew, calling him gross and ugly and nasty and implied the only reason they would be together was if Karamatsu lost a bet. He’d wondered if Chibita had been right, that maybe it would have been better for him to just go stag.

“Chibita’s not gross,” he grumbled as he turned to grab a glass from the cupboards and pour his water.  He returned to the room and sat down in front of the sixth bowl his mom had set out.  “And I didn’t upset him.”  At least, he didn’t remember upsetting him.  Shit, what if he had?  He reached to his pocket for his phone reflexively before realizing he was still in his pajamas and his phone was likely still upstairs.  Later then.  An anxious eternity of later, but later.  

He took a sip from his glass and Todomatsu scoffed, pointing his chopsticks at him accusatorily.  “Yeah right Shittymatsu”—the others around the table echoed “Shittymatsu” with varying inflections, none of them particularly positive—“There’s no way you weren’t planning on going home together.  You two looked like you were two seconds away from fucking on a table the whole time we were at the reception.  It was seriously gross.”  The others nodded sagely and repeated the sentiment.

“Totally gross!”

“Mm.”

Osomatsu chimed in with a mouth full of food, “I mean if he was a girl I would’ve been jealous!  But ah, you know Cheebs looks like a freaky baby man so we had to bail.”  He smiled gave him a “what can you do” kind of shrug. “I love you guys but not enough to stick around and watch you get half a drunken lap dance from a fucking gremlin.”

Lap dance?! What? Karamatsu looked warily around the table to gauge how much of that might be exaggeration.  From the faces Choromatsu and Ichimatsu were pulling, it didn’t look like it was at all. What…happened last night?  Even if both he and Chibita had gotten drunk, he doubted either of them would have gone that far.  Sure, he loved Chibita and he had no reservations about complimenting him and spending time with him, but that was all platonic.  This would’ve crossed the line to something else.  He supposed faking a relationship already crossed the line, but he pushed the thought away.  It wasn’t the same to lust after a body as it was to lust after the bonds of a soul.

Todomatsu flicked some rice at Karamatsu from across the table.  It struck him between the eyes and stuck there, pulling him out of his thoughts. Rude.

The younger brother folded his arms, looking very unimpressed.  “You don’t seriously think we didn’t see you, right?  You barely had any drinks in you when you pulled him onto you.  Seriously, Karamatsu-niisan, I thought you had a little more decency than that!”  He huffed and went back to eating his rice, tacking a mumbled “stupid older brother” onto his statement.

That was…hm.  That really did not sound right.  He took a slow bite of his rice and used the time to process what his brothers were saying.  They must have been exaggerating.  That was it. He ran a hand through his bedhead nervously.  “Heh, brothers,” he started, his voice a bit shaky, “I know you don’t approve of our union, but just because I had a bit too much to drink doesn’t mean you should make up—“

“Ugh, you don’t even remember last night, do you?” Choromatsu cut in, setting his chopsticks down pointedly.  “You really shouldn’t drink so much; you know you can’t handle it well.  Try being responsible for once in your life instead of making a nuisance of yourself at a wedding.”

Ichimatsu nodded from where he sat next to Choromatsu with his legs pulled against his chest.  “Shitty.”

“That’s a strike out, Karamatsu-niisan!”

Osomatsu snorted and reached over to pat Karamatsu on the shoulder.  He flinched away, watching him with eyes now wide awake and skeptical.  Osomatsu noticed and pulled back, but still gave him a reassuring smile.  “C’mon, Karamatsu, you know you can’t put away a beer like I can.  You really should watch yourself better, although it’s not like Mr. Fappymatsu has any room to talk.”  He deepened his voice to something silly when he said “Mr. Fappymatsu” and laughed when Choromatsu snapped back to not call him that and “you were drunk too, dumbass.”

Ichimatsu chuckled and piped up, “I bet that’s why Chibita’s mad at him, eh?  He probably lost it and puked on him or something.”

“Wooahhh!”  Jyushimatsu punched Ichimatsu’s shoulder lightly and was returned a small smile. “So gross, niisan!  Chibita’s probably super mad.  Ooo, that means Karamatsu-niisan cucked himself!”

Todomatsu tried to correct him that “that’s not what that means, Jyushimatsu-niisan,” but of course he didn’t listen and the conversation devolved into chuckles and bickering and Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu echoing “cuckmatsu” back and forth.  

Karamatsu abruptly slammed a hand on the table and stood. The others stopped laughing and quieted, save for the continued back and forth between his fourth and fifth brothers. He clenched his fists and stammered out, “O-oi, Chibita’s not mad at me! I just wanted to come home to my brothers. I-I was planning on coming home since the beginning.  And I am not a cuck!  You two, cut it out!”  

Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu shut themselves up, but not before Jyushimatsu let out one last “cuckmatsu” under his breath.

He didn’t have to deal with this.  He turned on his heel and marched out of the room, turning back to them for just a moment to add, “And stop being so cruel to Chibita! He’s a great guy and a great—.” Friend? He couldn’t say friend, they were supposed to be more than that.  But they weren’t, not really.  He couldn’t conjure up the nerve to call him anything else.  “A-a great guy,” he finished and turned to leave again.

He heard Osomatsu call after him as he left.  “Ooh, did you hear that?  Even Karamatsu has doubts!  I bet things aren’t so peachy between those two lovebirds.”

He should have let it go, or better yet, used it as a way to justify the inevitable “breakup” he would have with Chibita. But something about the idea of the two of them not working as a couple rubbed him wrong.  Of course they would be great together!  They were best friends, partners through the good and the bad of the world; he trusted Chibita more than Karamatsu had been able to trust anyone else in a long time, he cared for him in his times of need and Chibita of course did the same, he deeply cherished every moment they got to spend together and he knew Chibita did too—he wasn’t blind to the way Chibita always seemed to brighten when he saw Karamatsu coming his way.  They weren’t lovers; that was just pretend.  But their bond still ran far deeper than he could trust his brothers to know.  Maybe it was the impulse to defend that bond.  Maybe that was why he whirled on his heel and faced his brothers one more time before climbing the stairs, and in a voice much louder and much more confident than he expected, he corrected, “He’s a great boyfriend.”  And, not waiting to hear or see his brother’s reactions, he stomped back upstairs to get dressed.

This really wasn’t helping his headache.

--

Karamatsu took some time to himself to get dressed after that encounter.  Sometimes focusing on putting a lot of effort on his appearance made him feel better.  That wasn’t the only reason for his devotion to Fashion, but it was a nice bonus.  It took his attention and was fun and the results tended to be fairly rewarding. But this time, it failed to calm his nerves.  Being ignored he could take.  Being called shitty and painful he could take.  But as much as he loved his brothers, each of whom was creative and sweet in their own ways, he just couldn’t sit with them taking it out on someone else. Especially if that someone else was as dear to his heart as Chibita.

His mood wasn’t helped either by the idea that he might have overstepped some boundaries with Chibita last night.  What if Chibita was upset?  What if he would never feel comfortable around him again, forever reminded of Karamatsu acting like a drunk ass and grabbing him like his brothers described?  What if he’d done something more lewd that his brothers hadn’t seen?  He hoped they were exaggerating to get a rise out of him. Oh, did he hope.

Sometimes guitar helped him calm down too, so he slipped up to the roof to let his muse express itself and contemplate the treachery of the beautiful world they lived in.  He played a few soft songs about Life and her many mysteries and then he started singing about Nature and Fate and Beauty, all the while watching the snippets of others’ lives on display as they passed on the street.  He wondered if their lives were as dramatic and intriguing as his.  Probably; every man had many stories to tell, after all.  

The lyrics were coming easily to him and he was so deep in his contemplations and in the flow of the music that it took him a while before he noticed the blue moped parked in front of their house.  He let his voice fall and his strumming slowed. Chibita?  That was Chibita’s bike, right?  But he hadn’t seen him pull up; it had just been sitting there all the while he was on the roof.  He looked around, wondering if he had stepped into the house while he was getting dressed.   But he hadn’t heard anyone at the door…

He sat puzzled for a minute, watching the bike for any signs to explain why it was here but its owner was not, before warily climbing down from the roof.  He set his guitar back in its case in their room, his brothers failing to acknowledge him pass through, and took a minute to search the house.  Chibita…was not here.  Ah, this was a mystery.  He stepped outside onto the porch and let his hand come up under his chin as he leaned on the railing, thinking.  He hadn’t…he hadn’t driven the moped home himself had he?  And left Chibita off at his apartment or, worse yet, at the wedding? That didn’t make any sense, really, but knowing he might have done many things last night that didn’t make sense made it seem more plausible.

It was while he was struggling to solve this mystery of mystery that the mystery solved itself.  Chibita came into view between the gaps in the fence, walking along the sidewalk from the direction of his apartment.  Oh!  Well!  There was someone who might know what was going on! “Chibita!” Karamatsu called out to him as he jogged over.

Chibita stopped and turned to him as he approached, a tired but fond smile spreading across his face.  “Hey Karaboy!  Good morning!”  He took a moment to take Karamatsu in and his brow wrinkled in a way that looked both very confused and very amused.  “What are you—?  Karamatsu, the front half of your pants is missing.”

“No it’s not,” he protested.  “They have merely been artfully altered to be more fashionable.”  Chibita scoffed at that, but it was the truth!  He was wearing one of his less personal but still very fashionable outfits with the stressed jeans that had the massive stringy holes all up and down the front.  They showed a lot of skin, which he thought made him look very sexy.  Maybe not as sexy as some of his other outfits, but still pretty sexy.  The deep black v-neck and fringed leather vest also made him feel sexy.  Today was a sexy day, and a sexy day was (supposed to be) a good day.

Chibita shrugged and gave him a disbelieving look. “I guess if you like it, but it seems like a lotta trouble to go to for some drafty pants.  Looks cold as hell.”

“It is very cold, yes.”  Karamatsu nodded emphatically.  “But, alas!  That is the price I must pay for fashion.”

Chibita snorted with a smile as he turned away from Karamatsu and towards his bike.  He mumbled something about how he wasn’t one to care that much about fashion. Karamatsu assumed he was referring to how he’d dressed himself like a tired teenager in the dark, but he thought Chibita’s oversized sweater and sweatpants looked fine on him.  It certainly wasn’t very fashionable, nor as flattering as the pressed blue suit he’d worn last night, but he didn’t believe clothes could ever detract from a man’s natural beauty.  He didn’t say anything though because, well…because…

He cleared his throat and forced his voice down to a silky smooth tenor.  “Hmmm, Chibita.  About…last night…”

Chibita stiffened a bit and Karamatsu felt his stomach drop.  Chibita turned around to face him, looking a bit amused but obviously uncomfortable. Shit.  He really had crossed a line last night, hadn’t he?

“I, ah,” he began, a hand coming up to nervously comb through his hair, “I must thank you for helping me last night.  I won’t let myself forget your generosity and sacrifice for me, as you turned what might have been a disastrous event into a pleasant one.”  Chibita cracked a smile at that but didn’t look any less on-edge.  “But I must apologize, for it appears I may have…heh.” He posed with his hand over his eyes and his head bowed.  He didn’t have his sunglasses on yet, which was a shame.  “I believe I may have drank a bit too much at the reception.”

Chibita laughed a small “keke!” and waved a hand dismissively.  “Yeah, you go from zero to shitfaced pretty fast, huh Karaboy?  Don’t worry about it, I drank more than I should’ve too.  We both got carried away, huh?”

“Yes, but Chibita,” –he dropped his pose and instead stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets—“you…remember last night, yes?”

Chibita shifted in place, suddenly looking very guilty and very red.  Oh, so maybe the lap dance thing was true.  “Yeah. Maybe I got a bit too carried away.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked down at his feet.

“Ah, well I have but a stunted and hazy recollection of the night, like a dream forgotten by the waking hours of the day, so—hm.”  He rocked back and forward on his heels anxiously. “Would you enlighten me about any, ah, mistakes I may have made with you? A-and forgive me for my foolish errors?”

Chibita squinted at him.  “Oi Karamatsu, are you saying you don’t remember last night?”

“Heh…bingo,” he mumbled.

Chibita seemed to go through several emotions at once, and each showed in his eyes, though they blended together in odd ways such that Karamatsu couldn’t quite make out what all of them were.  He rubbed a palm against his reddening cheek and sighed.  “Don’t worry about it, Karaboy.  We both drank too much.  Hell, I probably should’ve had us get a taxi back instead of driving you home.  You just got loud for a while, then real tired right before we left, but you didn’t do nothing wrong.”  He shrugged jerkily.  For a former con-artist, Chibita was a shitty liar.

“My brothers said you gave me a lap dance.”

“What?  Hell, I never did that!” Chibita sputtered.  “I sat in your lap a bit but I was just sitting. I just thought it would be easier than sitting next to you.”  He frowned and glared towards the house, his cheeks darkening.  “It was a dumb drunk idea but it wasn’t some kinda horny one.” He must’ve seen one of Karamatsu’s brothers in a window because he made a rude gesture toward the house.

Karamatsu sighed with relief.  Well, thank the stars his brothers had just been grossly exaggerating.  He couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened between them if he really had moved for anything more intimate than some hand-holding and possibly ill-advised lap sitting.  “I apologize for them, Chibita, they—“

“Don’t,” Chibita cut in with a scoff.  “They were gross to us all night.  Acting like having no date is better than having…y’know.” He gestured at himself with tired resignation.  

Karamatsu shifted where he stood.  This was conversation felt worse than the one he’d just had with his brothers.  “Heh…a handsome and charismatic man for a partner?”

Chibita gave him a worried look and sighed.  “I just meant me, but I guess that too.”  Before Karamatsu could chide him for selling himself short, he hopped on his bike and started it up.  “I really should be going, huh?  I only came by to pick this up… Ahh, it was good seeing you though, Karaboy!  Just uh, let me know if you need me again for a fake date or fake breakup or something.” He gave Karamatsu a hesitant smile. “Last night was real nice.”

Last night…was nice.  Before he blacked out at least, Karamatsu could remember how comforting it felt to have Chibita by his side, how nicely his small hands had fit into his, how charming and sweet and gentle Chibita had been with him.  His parents had been so proud and had been so happy to see the two of them together.  They mostly made remarks about how Karamatsu had found a responsible breadwinner, but he was sure they said something about how he’d found someone that made him happy. Because he did, of course. Chibita made him very happy.  He was a dear friend, his best friend (outside of any of his brothers), and getting to show that off had felt incredibly satisfying.  He kind of wished he could hold Chibita’s hand all the time.  He shook his head to clear his thoughts and gave Chibita a thumbs-up.  “The pleasure was all mine!”

Chibita looked a little confused by the English, but Karamatsu still got a chuckle out of him.  He waved and said goodbye and, a lot faster than was probably safe, Chibita sped off on his bike.  Karamatsu didn’t realize how much better he felt talking to Chibita until he was gone. After the rough start to his morning, he’d felt agitated and restless all the way up until he’d seen Chibita.  He didn’t think he was upset because he wasn’t talking to Chibita, but the interaction certainly helped.  As he walked back to the house, he wished Chibita had stayed a bit longer, maybe come inside for some tea or sat up on the roof with him for a while.  Then he would be able to feel that calm and happiness for even longer.  He just wished he could spend more time with his dearest friend.  Maybe next time, he’d invite him in for a bit and play him something on the guitar.  

That sounded nice.