#his single braincell is contained in the tongue

[apinchofsanity]

No thoughts.

Only blep.

[poraphia]

Maybe the soap opera drama has a tight grip on my braincells BUT

imagine siren with a love interest who keeps. Getting. Into. Bad. Relationships.

not BAD bad relationships, just— people that are kind of pricks. One guy accidentally leaves the door open and their cats escape (and he doesn’t give a single fuck, just keeps watching tv and when the reader comes home from work he’s like “oh yeah ur cats escaped a few hours ago”), another never shows up on dates, one is just an arrogant prick, the other is boring as hell and has nothing in common with the reader——

Just

that must STING for siren. Like—— he’s right there????? He’d never think that he would be ENTITLED to a relationship with the reader, NEVER— but why can’t he be your type??

10/10 angst for him id say

he can’t even convince himself that he would be BETTER for the reader because he’s a villain

idk

"i found your cat, not him."

➵ PAIRING! clinic!siren!wilbur x civilian!taken!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.17.23 | 3631 words

➵ CONTAINING! jealous wilbur, reader has a cat, reader has a bf, jester talking some sense into siren, heartbroken wilbur

➵ SAYING! this took some days to work on but look! it’s finally done! i had a lot of ups and downs and probably switched up the plot a couple times but here it is :D thank uuu @listenheresweaty for suggesting this honestly i was thinking about writing this the moment u suggested it and now i have free time so yippie. hope yall enjoy :D

My masterlist :)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) had a reputation to have a terrible taste in partners. Whether it be a girlfriend that refused to take them on a date and made (y/n) plan all of the dates out, or the boyfriend they had now, who “accidentally” left the door open, letting their cat escape. Wilbur watched from the window as the desperate (y/n) approached any passerby, showing a picture of their feline, just to have any sort of direction as to where it might be.

Wilbur wasn’t a hero of any sorts. The clothes on his back were purchased with money robbed from the bank down the street, and the laptop he was using to do his work on was stolen from some tech store in the mall. And don’t even get him started on his body count that could fill a graveyard. His powers were venom dripping from his tongue, and he was nothing but a snake.

So what made Wil get up from his seat to tap the shoulder of a helpless (y/n)?

Maybe because this person was an interest of Wil’s for quite some time now. From seeing them inside the coffee shop from time to time, to even catching the glimpse of the back of their head as they boarded the bus— It was like this person was meant to be in Wil’s life. Though he just never had the excuse to go up to them. So instead, for weeks now, he has been admiring this person from afar, seeking for some type of opportunity to spark up a conversation.

“Hey.. Are you alright?” He asked. (y/n) turned around, a little out of breath from quickly speaking to anyone who approached them.

“Y-Yeah— no! No..” She sighed, breathlessly. They slumped against a nearby wall, almost defeated. “I— I lost my cat. She’s this sweet white ragdoll with a pink collar and big black eyes. My boyfriend left the door open and she just snuck right out! He said the cat’s been gone for a while now and he didn’t even bother helping.” They trailed off. “I know she’s here somewhere.. I don’t know..” They buried their face into their hands, frustrated with themself.

Wilbur looked at them with a tilted head and puffed up cheeks. Despite this being a stranger, he couldn’t help but feel a panging guilt in his chest. “Hey,” He placed a hand on their shoulder. “I think I might be able to find her.”

“..You think so?” They responded in a meek voice.

“I’m sure..” He replied in a gentle tone. “I usually work like really late in the city. Maybe I could find her on my way home? Just give me some form of communication and a picture and I’m sure I can find her.” He smiled reassuringly. (y/n)’s head perked up, and suddenly their face was beaming with hope. It was a look Wilbur wished he could screenshot with his eyes and keep it in his mind gallery.

“Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.” They gleamed. “Hold on— Let me give you my phone number. What was your name again?”

Something about this question made Wil freeze up a little. This complete stranger, telling him that he’s a good person, is also asking for his name? I mean, it’s not like its the first time someone asked his name. But being asked in such a kind and polite way, it almost took him back to when he first met Phil.

He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Wilbur,” He finally said. “Call me Wil.”

After exchanging contact information they parted their separate ways. Wil decided to pack up his stuff and head back home. He took the train to his neighborhood and spent the whole ride staring at this picture of (y/n) with their cat he learned was named “Anvil.”

The picture was a selfie taken by (y/n) with Anvil pressing her fluffy face against her owner’s soft skin. It was a cute sentiment captured by their phone camera, and Wilbur knew it was a treasured picture of theirs. He took the time to admire the cat’s features. It had a mess of white fur, and would definitely stick out like a sore thumb in the midnight dark. The train came to a halt as it had arrived to Wil’s destination. It didn’t take but a fifteen minute to arrive home.

Wilbur inserted the keys into the doorknob before pushing the door open. He kicked the door behind him closed as he placed his coat and shoes by the shoe cabinet and dresser.

“Hey, Wil,” Phil called from the kitchen.

“Hey, dad.” He shouted back. Wil threw his bag onto the couch before sliding against the sleek wooden floor to the entrance of the kitchen. Phil’s wings were loosely hanging behind him as the man stir fried some ingredients into a wok. “What’s for dinner?” Wil asked.

“Oh, just some fried rice.” Phil shrugged. “Whatcha do today? Hang out at the cafe?”

“Ah, yeah, pretty much.” Wil said, leaning against the fridge. “I, uh, met someone today.”

“Oh?” Phil said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone, you say?”

“What— Hey! It’s not like that..” Wil rolled his eyes while crossing his arms. However that wasn’t enough to convince Phil.

“Well if you say so.” Phil smirked. “So, what happened?”

Wil turned around and grabbed a glass from the cabinet before pouring himself a glass of ice cold water. He took a sip before speaking. “Well, there was this person and— I’m not quite sure what it was about them but.. They had lost their cat, and I felt really bad, so I offered to help them. They sounded so kind and stuff, but like— Apparently their cat ran away because their stupid boyfriend decided to leave the door open?! And he didn’t ever bother to help—!” Wil took a deep breath before bringing the glass back to his lips.

“—Oi, what are you bitching about?” As if on queue, Tommy emerged from the stairs. His hair was a ruffled his mess and he stumbled a little as he walked as if he had just woken up.

“Oh, Wil is just upset about someone he just met losing their cat—” Phil tried to explain, but Wil was quick to butt in.

“They didn’t lose their cat! It was their damn boyfriend!” He corrected. “Like, for hours he even knew the cat escaped and he just let it happen?!”

“Uh oh, looks like big Wil over here is catching feelings!” Tommy snickered as he wrapped an arm around Wil’s neck.

“Ugh, stop—” Wil pushed him away, but Tommy was persistent with his teasing.

“Little Wilbur has a crushy wushy and will find that cat and propose to them OoOoOo!” Tommy chirped.

“—Dad! Tommy’s being a bitch!” Wil cried as he struggled to escape Tommy’s grasp. After enough pushing, Wil was able to shove Tommy away before forcing Tommy into a headlock.

“Hey! Agh— Get off me you big bastard!” Tommy exclaimed. But Wilbur stood firm as he restricted Tom’s limbs by embracing him tightly.

“Both of you stop playing in the kitchen! Now, go get Techno because the food is ready.” Phil ordered, sternly.

Reluctantly, Wil released his grip from Tommy. Tom rubbed his arms and gave a big side-eye look to Wil.

“Bitch.” Tom muttered.

“Tommy! Go!” Phil ordered again, leaving Wilbur a snickering mess as Tom did his walk of shame toward the steps.

After dinner with the Soots (and some convincing to the family that Wilbur was not in love with this stranger he had just met), Wil dressed in his disguise and entered the night as Siren, a profound villain known in L’manburg city. His first task at hand was to find Anvil in Eastside.

He sauntered through the night with his hands in his pockets and his eyes lurking the streets. The night was cold and quiet with only the hum of the streetlights occupying his ears. But his only goal was to listen to the sweet meow of a cat lost and frigid. Every alleyway he came across he made sure to go through it thoroughly, making sure that the cat wasn’t stuck in a garbage can or in a cardboard box.

“Fuck, where is this cat..?” Siren muttered under his breath. He began whistling, making any noise imaginable to summon the feline. To no avail, no cats came running his way. Instead, a rather confused Jester jumped down from a building and right in front of Siren.

“What.. Are you doing?” Jester asked. Though he was wearing his mask, Siren could already tell he was furrowing his eyebrows.

Siren scoffed before continuing to walk. “I’m looking for a cat.” He replied. “But I can’t find her anywhere. I’m supposed to get her before the morning so I can return it to its owner.”

Jester followed behind him, his hands behind his back. “And this is important because..?”

“I-It’s important to me!” Siren retaliated, but if anything, it made him seen more desperate.

Jester sighed before shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this just to impress someone.”

“I-I don’t know man.” Siren finally admitted, though he continued looking left and right in an attempt to find (y/n)’s cat.

“Siren, you know we can’t be doing this— y’know, trying to date and all of that. We’re villains. What do we do if they find out, and the whole syndicate is reported? Plus, you know how we are. We’re ‘evil.’” Jester made sure to put the last word into air quotes. “At least to society we are. We have to face the truth—”

Though Jester’s words were going one ear and out the other, some of them still stuck in Siren’s head. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Siren wanted to form a close bond with someone outside of the syndicate— I mean look at Tommy. He adjusted comfortably. But I guess this time it was different. This was a complete stranger that he met as a civilian, and now he was out as Siren looking for their cat! The more Siren thought about, the more he felt foolish.

Suddenly, a loud meow could be heard from an alleyway just to the left of Siren. Jester ceased his talking and looked at Siren, who was staring at Jester right back.

“Is that the—”

“Shhh..” Siren brought his finger to his lips to quiet down Jester. Slowly, Siren approached the alleyway with Jester steadily following behind him. Lo and behold was Anvil, perched on top of a cardboard box that sat right on top of a garbage can.

“How’re you going to get it?” Jester whispered.

“Just watch.” Siren cleared his throat. He picked up a spare cardboard box that was lying around and held it up near ground level for the cat to easily jump into. “Anvil, come and sit in this box.”

A moment of silence passes between the three of them as the cat laid comfortably in her seat, not planning to move anytime soon.

“Uh, was that supposed to do something?” Jester asked sarcastically. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What the.. Anvil, come here now!” I demanded once again. As if taunting me, the cat simply licked her paws in response. Jester couldn’t help but to burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me your powers don’t work on cats?!” Jester gasped between laughs. “That’s fucking hilarious! Hopefully the Heroes won't find out about this one!”

“Shut up, dude!” Siren fussed at him. It took a bit for Jester to settle down his laughter with hands up out of protest.

“Sorry, sorry.. I just think it’s way too fucking funny.”

“Help me get this fucking cat, dude!” Siren exclaimed, clearly annoyed now. Siren turned around, now facing the cat again. He decided to kneel down to ground level with the box now on the floor.

Siren whistled to grab the feline’s attention. “C’mere, Anvil! Come here, buddy!” But the cat simply ignored the masked man.

“Hm, do you have a picture of the owner?” Jester asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah—” Siren took out his phone and tapped on a few things before pulling up the picture of (y/n) and Anvil. Siren looked at it one last time before showing the screen to Jester. He studied the face carefully, even grabbing the phone himself for him to examine.

Then with a simple head shake, Jester transformed his face into (y/n). It was an uncomfortable sight seeing their head on Jester’s body, but it definitely sparked the interest of Anvil.

“Come here, Anvil, come here!” Jester exclaimed as knelt down. Even his voice was near identical to (y/n). Obediently, the cat hopped off of the garbage can and into the arms of Jester, purring gingerly as she snuggled into his chest. I gave Jester an amused look as he smirked smugly.

“So, am I getting paid for this?” Jester asked as he carefully placed the feline into the box.

“To be fair, you volunteered to help. I didn’t ask.” Siren replied.

“Touche.”

Siren and Jester walked together until they were able to change into civilian clothes to avoid any conflict. It was important for Jester to maintain the face of (y/n) to keep the cat as calm as possible. Despite Siren knowing that it was just his friend and business associate under that form, he couldn’t help but stare at the face of (y/n). How their hair flowed as they walked and how their eyes glowed even under the moonlight. It felt too enchanting to even be real.

“Hey, you good bro?” Jester’s voice was the only thing to throw Siren out of his delusions.

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine.” Siren muttered, looking away. Jester rolled his eyes before sighing.

“Dude, what did I just say about getting attached to anyone?” Jester lectured once again.

“I— I know.” Siren replied defeatedly. “I know..”

“It’s dangerous for you, and whoever this—” Jester pointed as his own face. “—person you’re so infatuated with. It would be dangerous for not only you, but for them too. Imagine how much trouble they would be in knowing that they’re in relations with a supervillain.”

“I know, Jester!” Siren cried. The both of them stopped in their tracks. Even the cat laid still in it’s box. The midnight crickets filled the empty air between the two villains. “I get it— it’s too dangerous for me. It’s too dangerous for them. I’m evil. I’m going to put them in danger— I just— ugh!” Siren tilted his head back in frustration.

As he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back any bitter words he had the urge to say, Jester stood there and stared at him. It hurt even more seeing the person of interest saying these words to him. Jester quickly transformed back into his regular mask and placed a hand on Siren’s shoulder.

“Look man, I’m sorry..” Jester apologized. “I’m just worried about you, alright? Don’t want anything happening to you, especially what went down this past year.” Siren tilted his head back to look at him, and though his eyes were shielded, he could tell they were full of sincerity and reassurance.

“Yeah..” Siren voiced. “I guess I’m just tired. I don’t know. Let’s hurry home soon.”

“Alright.” Jester agreed.

The two were able to change out of their villain disguises in an abandoned warehouse without anyone noticing them. They then made their separate ways, leaving Wilbur and the cat in careful silence on walk home. Once Wil made it to the front door, he was careful in making up the steps to his room where he would keep the cat. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s sleep considering that Phil and Techno were at a meeting and Tom could be quite the heavy sleeper.

Wil shut his bedroom door behind him and placed the cardboard box next to his closet. Though the cat was sound asleep now, he made sure to tuck in the feline with any spare blankets he had lying around before changing into his sleepwear and laying down in bed.

Wil pulled out his phone and texted (y/n).

Wilbur Hey, able to meet me at the cafe sometime tomorrow morning? I have you cat :)

Surprisingly, they responded.

(y/n) OMG really?! Thank you so much! I’ll see you tomorrow x

‘x’? Don’t those usually mean kisses? They probably just meant it in a friendly way. Or maybe they’re showing an interest in Wilbur? Nah, that can’t be possible. But what if? What if they’re interested in Wilbur?

Regardless of what (y/n) intended when they signed off with that little letter, Wilbur only slept a mere two hours.

The next day, Wil was ecstatic despite his lack of sleep. It was as if in a blink of eye he was in bed, but then the next moment he was scarfing down his breakfast and bolting out the door with Anvil’s box in his arms.

After all this time, he finally was able to do some sort of action to get (y/n)’s attention. To finally place himself in their field of view, and maybe, just maybe, they would have some sort of interest toward him. The thought made Wilbur’s heart flutter, making him feel like his body lifted which each step he took.

Wil had finally made it to the cafe, and right on time for that matter too. The building was just up-ahead. Wilbur took a deep breath, his chest pounding from adrenaline, anxiousness, and maybe a bit of excitement sprinkled in there as well. He looked down at the cat, who was previously buried in a sheet. She was now looking up at the man with big beady eyes staring right back at him. The charm to her collar clinked as it waved side to side.

“Okay, Anvil, I’m gonna return you to your owner now, alright? I-I’m sure she’s missing you.” Though he was just simply talking to a cat, this was (y/n)’s cat. And he was returning (y/n)’s cat! He was! Not some other kind stranger, not her family, not even her dirtbag boyfriend. It was Wilbur who would be returning this cat. Without him, Anvil wouldn’t be safe and sound in someone capable to protect a feline from the treacherous night.

With a proud smile, Wil approached the cafe with confidence radiating off his strides.

This was it, he thought.

This was it.

But was it?

He looked in the window to locate (y/n), but instead he found a sight more displeasing. the sight made his heart drop and his knees weak, but it took all his strength and awareness that he was holding a cat to keep himself steady. (y/n) was huddled up next to what seemed to be their incompetent boyfriend. Their head leaned against his shoulder, but the boyfriend did not return the affection. Instead he sat with his hands both placed on his phone, seemingly playing some idle shooting game to occupy his absent mind.

It took (y/n) noticing that Wil was at the window for Wilbur to break out of his mind. Their face beamed at the sight of their cat, and immediately they got up and rushed out of the door to greet him and her feline.

“Anvil, sweetheart!” They exclaimed. The cat immediately perked her head to face her owner before jumping out of the box and into (y/n)’s arms. Wil smiled contently at the sight, however his brain felt all kinds of fuzzy. As if he wasn’t really there.

“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you, Wil, seriously!” Something about (y/n) saying his name made him wince. It felt like a hug before a stab in the chest. Regardless, he pushed through.

“Yeah, of course. I told you I would get her as soon as possible.” Wilbur said.

“You’re an actual lifesaver! I’m sorry if she put you through any trouble. Can I buy you a coffee or?” (y/n) offered. Though the offer was tempting, he didn’t feel comfortable spending another second seeing him and them together. Especially at such a close proximity.

“I-I’m fine,” Wil quickly muttered. “I have to go somewhere in a bit. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Of course! Thank you again, truly.” (y/n) smiled. He simply nodded before turning and walking away.

Though Wil could argue that the man (y/n) calls their boyfriend is a prick, it’s not like he would be any better. Just like Jester said. That man could sit on his ass all day, not care for their cat, not care for them, and yet, he would still be the better option between him and Wilbur.

Wilbur is evil.

Wilbur is a villain.

Wilbur has killed countless living people compared to that prick killing digital npcs for fun.

Though, the argument stapled in Wil’s mind.

Wil found (y/n)’s cat. Not him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ poor lil baby siren he just wants love :(( mayb ill do a part 2? i loved this concept ngl. notes of all kind are super duper appreciated :)) thank u for supporting my writing!

[ninja-scenarios]

a humble assortment of fluffy Illumi scenarios 🤍🖤🤍

My headcanon is that Illumi´s nickname in a romantic relationship is “Lumi-chan”

I´m taking Japanese classes atm so this headcanon just feels really intimate and cute

Also I saw on Instagram how someone called him Illumi “one braincell” Zoldyck and honestly... yes. I can see that. I can see that very well.

Support me on Ko-fi | Masterlist | My AO3

The first time it happened:

Illumi showed up to the café you had agreed on.

The green scarf looked cute and cosy on him.

“I am here on time. This is the right place.”

You had started laughing, carefree and light.  

“Don´t be so serious, it´s a date!”

Whatever he thought of it, you had already started excitedly browsing through the menu. Maybe this wasn´t so bad after all.

“What would you like to order, Lumi-chan?”

It took him a few moments to reply, as his system had shut down with the Microsoft error noise.

“Don´t call me that. It is inappropriate.”

You pouted, leaning back in your chair. 

“Why? It sounds cute. Don´t you like it?”

Illumi blinked. 

“That is not decisive. If other individuals take notice they could mistake our relationship. “

“It´s common for couples to call each other nicknames! This way they would only know that I like you.” 

Silence.  

You beamed. 

“Okay! Then I´ll just call you like that when we´re alone.”

Illumi didn´t respond. But when he turned to study the menu, maybe he held it a little too high to hide the blooming blush on his face.

`Only when we´re alone... why must she say things like that´

--- 

“Just five more minutes!” 

Your arms tightened around his broad shoulders, determined to prolong your precious time together. Illumi however was an unyielding force as he ascended from the couch with you clinging to him koala-style. 

“It is time, I have to leave now.”

He carefully placed you back onto the pile of pillows and blankets as if lowering something made of glass. Always so gentle with you.

Accepting your faith you nevertheless wanted to try your luck, winking cheekily.

“For real? Then... how about a goodbye kiss?” 

Illumi halted in his movements, only partially influenced by you clasping his wrist. Unblinking flawless pools of darkness stared back into your eyes, searching for clues as to why you wanted to part with something initiating intimacy. 

“You know, to take off the edge. To store some love so that I don´t miss you so much~” You flirted, twirling a strand of his ebony hair. Illumi nodded slowly, not really able to decode your words, yet understanding that what you searched for was comfort. 

So, naturally, he took your chin in between his fingers and kissed you.

In fact, he kissed you so passionately that you let out a small squeak in the back of your throat as his clever tongue infiltrated your mouth. 

Releasing you after minutes to inspect your face, with your kiss swollen lips and flushing down to your neck, Illumi went back into thoughts. Was this what comfort looked like? The watch however called his name.

“I got to leave. I´ll return right away when it´s finished.”

Reassuring himself one last time, he gave you a genuine pat on the head. Nodding internally, Illumi left, leaving you behind hot and flustered.

“What kind of parting kiss was that....” 

--- 

Warning: NSFW

Maybe it hadn´t been the best idea to sneak you in for a secret sleepover.

Illumi held your mouth tightly shut, controlling a steady amount of pressure as not to accidentally cut off your oxygen. It was meant to keep in your hot noises of absolute delight, panted and whimpered against the barrier of his fingers while he moved in a set rhythm. 

The Zoldyck estate was deathly silent. No music, no conversation. Every single noise violating a certain pitch could lead a household of power–hungry assassins your way.

Illumi knew he couldn´t let the two of you be too loud. But as the seconds ticked by, it became harder and harder to contain his own pleasure. You were gripping and squeezing him so tight, just the thought of it caused him to shut his eyes tightly as to rule out the overwhelming force of pleasure. 

While you were constantly riding up to a cliff, Illumi looked more and more like he was suffering. The intimacy brought him closer to the edge with each thrust, yet he knew he couldn´t let himself fall. You were so tight and wet and warm. He didn´t trust his abilities this time. 

You whimpered against his hand, warm breath hitting his skin and just a second later he realized that it had been his name. He shut his eyes from anew, a wave of shivers chasing down his spine. His cheeks glowed in the limited candlelight, head pounding as if in a throw of fever.

“Illumi” 

He growled faintly, narrowing his eyes at you in warning.  I must not, I must not -

Yet unbeknownst to him, you had a plan to make him do exactly that. 

As you brought his face up close to whisper those devilish words into his ear. 

“None of that, Illumi. Come now. Right fucking now.”

Your fingers weaved into his hair and before your lover could keep up, you pulled - Illumi´s eyes flashed open before he violently shivered. The sweet pain rushing through his veins right to his core.

With the force of a wave crashing into the stormy sea, Illumi´s body clenched and released and he came in a silent scream. 

Later, when the candles had burned down, taking the unbelievable heat of his body with them, Illumi dared to move. 

His dark eyes spoke of deep satisfaction, never mind the tiredness that weighed on his eyelids. You silently chuckled to yourself, stroking his hair and placing a kiss on his forehead. 

“Sleep, my darling.”

And against every reflex trained into him, Illumi let his eyes slipped closed. Here, holding your warm body close and tight, he let exhaustion take over.

[internalsealpanic]

All That Glitters

Summary: Pandora’s box is a black box covered in silk and embossed with the initials R.S.

a/n: So uh this work is a follow up to my fic Better Die than Doubt but it can be read as a stand alone. This thing resulted from the combined might of  @knightfall05x,  @lucy-roo​, and my thirst. I said the follow up to that fic would be fluffy. The chronological follow up will come out at some point. I  just have a single braincell and it decided it wanted to write more Black Mask being an absolute bastard. Thanks to those two hoes for enabling and proof reading. See you both in hell

warnings:  This is smut. I was being haunted. This work contains noncon, past noncon, violence, Roman being an asshole, daddy kink, size kink, strength kink (if you squint ), yandere themes, stalking, exhibitionism, a dude who cannot take no for  an answer and choking.  

masterlist

“Hey Jay,” You chirp into the phone, maneuvering it over your shoulder carefully so you wouldn't drop it while you held your soda can at an arm's length away from you hoping it wouldn’t explode on you when you attempt to open it. 

 “Hey, sweet-” You blow out a raspberry halting the correction in its tracks. You can practically picture Jason’s mouth swerve into an odd shape caught between proceeding with his correction or backtracking.  He chose neither. You hear him swear viciously. You snort making him huff. 

 “What’s up, asshat?” He asks, endearingly. You can pretty much hear him rolling his eyes from this side of the world. You frown hearing how winded he sounded. 

 “Jay, if this is a bad time, I can-”

 “You’re fine it’s just a little-”

 “JAYBIRD, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE”

 “Roy sounds like he needs help. I can call back later.”

 “Roy can handle himself.”

 “Thanks for the confidence, Jaybird, but I think I’d prefer if you kept shooting straight.”

 You snort feeling warmth build up in your chest despite the chilly weather. You chirp delighted when you open the can and it doesn’t explode. You hear Jason chuckle. The smart remark he had on the edge of his tongue dies on his lips when your breath hitches audibly at the sound of his gun firing. Jason makes a noise, the kind you use to prompt someone to tell you if they’re ok without having to ask. You swallow and nod and curse remembering he can’t see you. You blow out a breath, making sure it comes out steady. 

 “Y/n...”

 “I’m-” You wanted to say fine but you knew the word fine was wholly inappropriate and untrue for this situation. “I’m gonna survive. I promise.” 

 Jason doesn’t make a sound of agreement or disagreement. He simply acknowledges it. You silently thank him for the neutrality. 

 “JAYBIRD”

 “SHUT UP, HARPER”

 You hear Kory sigh in exasperation somewhere in the distance.  In the background, you hear a shriek which you assume is from Jason. Then the line cuts out. 

You try to redial. 

 Nothing. 

 You try again.

 Nothing. 

 A laugh rips out of your chest. You cry out in pain, the fizzy drink rushing up your nose. You wince and curse and settle on blaming Jason.  You suspect they somehow broke the phone. You wouldn’t be too surprised by that outcome. You sigh but there was no point in complaining about it. You might as well finish your lunch in peace. 

   You chew on your cheek as you walk back to your cubicle, everyone’s eyes are on you. You feel your breathing pick up a fraction of a second faster. 

 One

 Two

 .

.

.

.

 Two

 Fuck

 You dig your nails into your palm. Your footfalls become heavier and a little louder even against the white noise around you. You slowdown and shake your head. You haven’t had an attack at work so far and you aren’t about to start now. You inhale deeply, letting your chest expand as you run through the things Dinah taught you.  

 Take stock of the situation around you. 

 The world around you was buzzing with life-shuffling papers, ringing phones, humming of machines, and blips of voices here and there. The room is bright and clean under the light of sterile fluorescent lights. You take in all the voices around you. You’re not alone. The knot building in your shoulders loosens. You continue. 

 Take stock of your body. 

 Your body is trembling, the beginnings of a panic attack looming over you. Instead of cursing it, you let it. It was only natural to relapse once in a while. The trauma wasn’t fresh. Not in your opinion, at least. Dinah and, apparently, everyone else had a different opinion. You’re good at being ok but you were human. You let out a  long breath, half-tempted to let your eyes slide shut but you’re afraid of finding yourself in that room again, of seeing him, of feeling him on you. Revulsion spasmed in your body in powerful waves. Sure, you’re a showboat, Jay had said as much, but showing off and causing a scene were two entirely different things and you weren’t entirely sure you could endure the looks of pity from your coworkers every time you came through those doors. 

 Stiffly, you walk towards your cubicle. Your neighbor, Chelsea, smiling conspiratorially at you while your manager glares daggers at you. You raise an eyebrow at Chelsea who waggles her eyebrows in return.   

 “This is how you tell me I got fired?” You sigh, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. 

 Chelsea rolls her eyes at you. “Nope, but the boss man did want me to tell you to tell your boyfriend that he really shouldn’t be sending you gifts at work but honestly, I …...” Your brows knit in confusion, cold dread licking at the pit of your stomach. 

 “I don’t have a boyfriend.” You say slowly trying to keep the mounting panic out of your voice. You could hear your blood pulsating in your ears, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Your feet are itching for you to run outside and call Jason or Dinah or anyone but the stupider part of you- the curious part of you was clawing at your mind to proceed. 

“Y/n, are- are you ok?” You blink and look at the clock. Two minutes. You blacked out for two minutes which, if you were being totally honest, was a huge improvement. 

 “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 “If you say so” She shrugs, her eyes still not pulling away from you.  

 Mechanically, you turn to your desk. Your entire being freezes when your eyes land on the black box sitting on the desk and the large bouquet of red roses sitting next to it.  The box was rectangular, black with silver trimmings embossed on it. Large ‘R.S.’ written in fancy lettering at the bottom right corner of the lid. You wanted to vomit. 

 You draw a breath and flex your fingers. You can feel your teeth digging into your cheeks. 

 “Hey, Chel?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Can I borrow some tissues?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper but still miraculously steady. She frowns at your handing you a couple of tissues. Normally, you keep your vigilante habits out of your civilian life but considering the initials embossed on this obnoxiously expensive-looking box sitting on your desk, you think this level of paranoia is justified. 

 You stop to calculate the odds that the box contained explosives which turns up zero. You sigh but a shiver climbs up your spine when you run through the possibilities of what Roman could have thought of as a gift. 

 “Y/n, what the fuck?” If Chelsea wasn’t watching you before, she was now. You glance at her quickly and give her a weak smile. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Cautiously, you lift the lid quietly regretting not calculating the possibility of anything toxic being in it. You’re honestly surprised nothing happened. You roll your eyes upon seeing the expensive-looking black silk covering the inside.

Yes, rub your money in my face while you scare me shitless why don’t you, you fucking asshole, you think grumpily peeling the fabric away. 

 Your heart comes to a full stop when you’re met with a pair of lacy lingerie. Your lacy lingerie. Your USED lacy lingerie. You blink trying not to focus on the white stains. You sincerely did not want to think about that. Moving them aside you find a bloody shirt, the sound of its shifting fabric making gooseflesh spread all over your body. 

 You recognize it. You didn’t want to, but here it was. The bloodstains were dry but they were still visible even against the dark fabric of the shirt. Your skin prickles where the scars on your body sit. The knife wounds sting and throb as if freshly cut.  It takes everything in you not to vomit.

  It was probably the single-minded curiosity that kept you going. You maneuver the shirt carefully making sure it makes as little sound as possible.  Underneath it is a collar, simple but clearly expensive leather with the tag R.S. glittering under the sterile lights. Your throat constricts. You tear your gaze away. Your eyes sting. Next to it was a stack of photos. The top photo showed you with your, shirt torn exposing your breasts. Someone was inside you, gripping your hips. You gag.  You reign your mind in. You flip the stack over and gather your breath. Your heart stops again when you see Roman’s familiar handwriting on the back of a photo.   

 “Miss me?”

The drive back to your apartment was a blur consisting of what was most likely several severe traffic violations but you needed- you need to get out of town as quickly as possible. The odds of Roman himself showing up to your little town was low, very low. Not that you’ve actually calculated it. You don’t need to. The man walks around like his feet bless every surface they touch. The man has a loaded god complex the size of Russia to put it generously. Fetching you was simply beneath him. He had henchmen for a reason after all. 

 You wave to your landlady and her husband amiably as you walk past them keeping the nervous thrum out of your movement. Your landlady returns the gesture, elbowing her sneering husband. You know what he thinks of you and your habits. Take a few guys home with you and suddenly you’re a slut. Your promiscuity was none of his fucking business. Your body was yours to do with, to give, and to take back. It was yours. It’s yours, you assure yourself but the feeling of your body and mind hanging loosely off of each other feels painfully vivid at the moment. 

 You shake your head. This wasn’t the best time to sort out your hang-ups.  

 You press your ear to your apartment door then remembered just how thick it was and remembered that you didn’t exactly have super hearing. You sigh. What you would give to be Supes right about now. You enter the apartment careful not to make your steps audible. That, however, was rendered moot by the two very large and blocky men standing in your living room. You exhale both in frustration and relief. If Roman Fucking Sionis thinks he can scare you with two meatheads, he was clearly insulting you. Well, at least, he didn’t hire anyone actually competent considering all your gear was in a duffle bag tucked neatly away under your bed. Yanno, just for this sort of eventuality. Now that you think about it. You really should have just kept it in your car but small-town crime seems to have softened you. 

 You smile letting the irritation mold you into something sharp and venomous. You throw the box at one of the henchmen goading them to attack you. Its contents scattering all over the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care that some of the photos land right side up. 

 “Tell your chicken shit of a boss to come scare me himself,” You laugh, manic relief flooding through you. You feel like you’re going mad but you don’t care. It’s so much more feasible to deal with these men than it is to have to even think about Roman. “He doesn’t even have the balls to-”

 “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Sweetheart.” comes a gravelly voice from the bedroom. Your stomach drops. Roman strides out of your bedroom adjusting the cuff link of his obnoxiously expensive suit.  He looks down to the photos and gifts scattered on the ground, frowning he bends down to pick up the collar, dusting it off and stuffing it in his pocket. 

 Your fight or flight response freezes. You back into the door, the material feeling too solid for the moment. You inhale sharply, only managing short shallow breaths as Roman slowly closes the distance between you. His footfalls loud, heavy, and deliberately casual making your blood thrum. 

 No. No. No. 

 Your eyes flicker wildly around the room looking for any weapon within reach, your mind running through the numbers, the probabilities melding together into incoherent blotches of red in the back of your skull. Roman slams his large hands on either side of your head. The impact makes the door creak. You can’t stop yourself from flinching visibly, surprise and fear carving themselves on to your face. Roman barks out a derisive laugh as he trails a leather-clad finger down your chin, your throat, then to your cleavage. The contact against your bare skin makes you bristle. 

 “This here?” He emphasizes, his fingers playing with the top button of your shirt popping it carelessly revealing your baby pink, lace bra hidden beneath. “This is a little low cut for the office, isn’t it, princess?”  

 Annoyance overwhelms your sense of self-preservation. “I’m not about to take fashion advice from a guy who looks like he watches Scar Face daily.” You snipe, teeth bared.  Roman hums the undercurrent of rage filling the air. Your ribs ache, remembering an old injury. Your mouth slams shut cutting off any other snide remarks. 

 “You wear these clothes to wind me up, don’t you?” Roman drawls, his leather-clad fingers tracing up the expanse of your thigh exposed by the slit of your skirt, bunching up the skirt and playing with the waistband of your thong as he does so. His thumbs pressing circles against your inner thigh, you can’t help but quiver under his touch. “Oh the fun hasn’t even started yet...just wait”, he bites your ear lobe and tugs it between his teeth. He pulls back and glares at you. “Do you want to know how I found you in this dead-end town, princess?” He asks tilting your chin with his gloved hand. You shake your head not really interested at the moment. You’re too distracted by how flush your body was getting as he presses you further into the door with his bulk. You note with disgust the arousal suffusing through your limbs. 

 “You were all over the news, sweetheart,” You’re trying to remember what he could possibly be talking about. He leans in closer, leather-clad hand brushing against his thumb against your bottom lip, your lips parting automatically for him. He places his gloved thumb between your parted lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that goofy smile of yours?”  You shiver lips wrapping around the intruding digit.  Your tongue flicks and swirls around it in a practiced gesture. “Good girl.” Roman hums, a grin spreading across his face while thick shame blankets you. You frown at how familiar the taste of the glove is against your tongue. You push your thoughts away wishing your mind would fall away. 

 “Baby,” He draws his hand away from your lips, wiping the thin string of saliva on your face. His hands glide down the sides of your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize these hips?” His hands grab at your hips roughly, lifting you and pulling them flush against his own. “Baby. I know what’s mine and this time I won’t let you get away from me.” He whispers against your neck, voice husky and rough. You swallow feeling his lips brush against your pulse. 

 Roughly, he wedges a thigh between your legs, the friction against your core making you keen. The friction woke something in you and loosened a few other things. Your hips roll desperately against the thick muscle of his thighs. Roman grins against your neck,  loosening his grip on your hips and letting you fuck yourself on his thigh. You will yourself to stop but the heat twisting in your gut is too much. You hate yourself. You well and truly hate yourself. Your cheeks warm, breath coming out in pants. 

 Roman places a kiss on your collarbone, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh. Your tongue is caught between your teeth to hold back a moan but the shiver spreading throughout your body says it too loudly. Roman chuckles, vibrations deep within his chest making you weak. Roman licks a stripe up your neck, planting kisses and hickeys along your jaw. “God, you taste sweet, princess.” He murmurs hot against your neck, the smirk dripping from his voice. It feels like acid against your skin. 

 He guides your pliant arms to loop around his shoulders. You obey soundlessly, tipping your head back giving him room to ravish your neck. He does with unbridled enthusiasm. You feel trapped in your own body. You don’t want this. You want to push him away but the fear coursing through you leaves you a passenger in your own body. Your breath hitches with each bite and kiss. 

 “Mine.” He rumbles resolutely, sliding the cloth of your top placing a bite on your shoulder. It stings without even looking, you know it’s deep. 

 “No” You whisper, low and unsure. 

 “No?” He challenges pulling away from your shoulder. 

 “No” You echo voice frustratingly unsteady. He sneers down at you, smile condescending. A biting rebellious part of you demands that you snarl and spit something brisque and witty at him but it’s pushed down by something viscous filling your chest. How are you drowning and why are you not dead yet?

 Just let it pass, your mind whispers to itself. Just let him get his fill and he’ll be on his way. You don’t even have to get hurt. You sincerely want to believe this. You just want this to not happen. The thought of it summons a wave of nausea deep within you. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You blink rapidly chasing them away. He likes it when you cry. 

 “Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want this,” He emphasizes, pressing his thigh against your sopping pussy. The pressure makes you whine.  “Not when you’re being all cute and fucking yourself on my thigh like the dirty slut you are.”

 No. No. No.

 Rat-tat. 

 You will your hips to stop their movement but they’re too lost in their momentum. Your eyes flicker to Roman’s men, large eyes pleading. They stand stiffly doing their best to ignore you. They’re doing a damn fine job of it. 

 “Oh they won’t do anything, they’re here to watch,” Roman whispers hotly against your ear.  Your eyes flicker to them again. Your breath catching when your eyes meet one of theirs, seeing not an ounce of pity. You shove the bile rising in your throat and the quirk on their lips deep somewhere else, somewhere away from you.   

 You try to squirm away but Roman’s arm presses into your windpipe pinning you in place. You thrash and kick and hiss but your head feels light. You hear fabric shift and you still. The sound of the zipper is too loud and too real.  

Roman takes your lips in a forceful kiss making you gasp. His tongue forces its way into your mouth.  He releases your neck. You feel his fingers trail up the slits of your skirt. You try to focus on them rather than what’s pressing stiffly against your inner thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunch up by your hips. You feel your panties getting pushed aside by large fingers. You whimper again, clawing at the expensive fabric of Roman’s suit. “Please don’t do this.” You plead breathily against his ear. 

 He laughs, voice gravelly and harsh. Without further warning or preparation or ceremony, Roman shoves himself inside your warmth, pushing you further into the door. You gasp, the burning stretch making your body tremble all over. He bottomed out with a loud groan. You wanted to cover your ears or have your mind fall out of your reach but here it was painfully present along with your frozen body. He’s loud, groaning and panting as he fucks into you. He thrusts into you with wild abandon, hips clashing against each other with bruising intensity. You can feel his cock dragging in and out of you, hitting every spot violently. He wants this to hurt. You hope it would too. 

 Your cheeks burn with how your walls spasm around his cock. You want to push him away, to take him out of you but it feels so good. You try to smother the lewd sounds you make into his shirt.  Roman’s hands squeeze tightly around your waist in warning. “Yeah, that's it, baby. Let daddy know how much you want this.” You don’t protest. Instead, you let your mouth hang open and let the lewd mewls and keens tumble out. He drills into you more violently seemingly spurred on by your sounds. 

 You come with a whimper. You want to bury yourself in a hole. He comes not long after still fucking into you as he does, making sure your pussy takes all of his cum.  

 He pulls out of you, the slick sound of it absolutely sinful. Your body is slack against the door, too drained to hold itself up.  Roman pulls back, grinning down at you and whistling appreciatively as he admires his work. “Let’s dress you back up, sweetheart.” Roman coos locking something around your neck.  You don’t need to look down to know what he’s put there. The cool metal of the R.S. hanging off the collar presses stark against your hot sensitive skin.

 “You look sooo much better like this,” Blearily you look past him. Your duffle bag is already in the arms of one of his men. He grabs your face roughly making you look him in the eyes. “All mine- just as you should be.” 

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Thanks for reading! I swear I will do more fluff in the near future. I just needed this out of my system. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

[foreficfandom]

The Arcana - Cooking For MC (Headcanons)

-- Asra -- 

Life as a street orphan makes cooks of us all. If he wasn’t a child desperately stealing fruit, he was a teenage magician earning coppers to buy scraps from the butcher and bartering for old, bruised squash. He quickly had to learn how to stretch his meager rations as far as he could, and cooking was the way to do it.

He’s come a long way from the one single pot he and Muriel would squat over while hiding away in the docks. Now, he and you happily enjoy a consistent diet of fresh groceries, sometimes he cooks and sometimes you do. 

All his cookery he learned in Vesuvia - pasta, lentils, chickpeas, tomatoes, cumin, basil, ocean seafood. The both of you don’t quite earn enough to splurge on the good cuts of beef, but you never have to worry about going hungry. 

And you don’t have to worry about bland, burnt food, either. Asra can reliably hold his own in the kitchen. He doesn’t exactly follow recipes, just tosses together stuff according to what feels right in his heart. A holdover from the days where he had to improvise all his food. 

There’s more holdovers; he hates tossing away uneaten food, or groceries that have gone bad. He’ll keep the chicken bones to make into a broth for tomorrow. He never peel potatoes or fruit ‘cause the skins contain valuable nutrients. He cringes at people who throw away the heads of fish. The leftover fat in the pan is made into gravy, or pastry frosting, or soap. Occasionally, he and you give away your leftovers to the urchins that hang around the neighborhood. 

When it’s his turn to cook, expect traditional Vesuvian cuisine like flatbreads, hummus, and vegetable soup. Herbs used in the shop are sometimes thrown into the dish, like thyme or myrtle leaves. Asra’s cooking regularly gets to grace your stomach, and it’s very lovely and nice uwu

-- Julian -- 

Everybody who knows Julian holds vehemently that he can’t cook worth a damn. He’s not gonna poison you, but it’s true that he can’t do more than toss various things into a pot and pray that it comes out edible. 

So when he’s forced to cook, everything ends up tasting like the same sort of bland, unspiced mush. And it’s almost always boiled, never roasted or fried. He just seems incapable of not burning anything, so he avoids pancooking ingredients if he can avoid it. And even his soups tend to have burnt residue at the bottom.

Not only that, but traditional Nevevion cuisine ... can be an acquired taste in itself. Like pickled herring covered with beet mayonnaise, cold aspic on toast, and really, really salty fish roe. He grew up eating actually good food cooked by his adopted family, but it’s unfortunately easy to turn a cabbage and potato recipe into nasty gross mush, especially under Julian’s hands. 

He knows he’s shit at cooking, but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Ready-made takeout isn’t always available in their world, so if someone needs to eat, they usually gotta cook. Cue boiled chicken and carrots a-la Julian. At least he added some salt, this time. He blames his Nevevion heritage for lacking an affinity for spices.

With shitty cooking skills come an ability to eat anything. Julian doesn’t turn down a dish if he’s hungry, even if it’s some bullshit. Except for spicy stuff - it’s like the only pain he doesn’t get off on. Just a little jalapeno in his rice will turn his entire face red and give him hiccups.

So say you don’t have time to cook dinner for the both of them tonight, he’d much rather the two of you go eat at an inn than force your divine tongue to be sullied by his dreadful meals. However, he can be taught to cook if you two can find the time, and will eventually get the hang of it. You and Julian in the kitchen, warm and cozy, teaching him how to make a good macaroni? Now that’s an afternoon date in the making.

-- Nadia -- 

Growing up royal meant Nadia never had to cook for herself. To some, it’d be very improper for someone of Nadia’s standing to ever cook, especially in the same kitchen as the servants. But in-between her piano lessons and fencing training and literacy/history/mathematic/public speaking tutoring, she also devoted some personal time in reading up on skills she wouldn’t have been taught - like gardening, jewelry craft, and also cooking and baking.

She had this stint of candy-making when she was a teen, after seeing sugarspun candies in the market that were shaped into different, multi-colored animals and flowers. She would sneak into the kitchen and, with the help of particular cook friend, make candied nuts, meringues, taffies, marzipan. And with the skills she learned making candies, she also learned how to bake and cook various things.

Rarely did she ever get to exercise her cooking skills beyond a mere pastime. She had no one to cook for, nor enough spare time. So very few people knew she bakes a mean butter cashew cake.

One day, she just kinda absentmindedly mentions that she knows how to cook a few things, so you insist she show you, which kinda takes her off-guard and she’s a little nervous, because it’s been a long time since she busted out the ol’ apron, and what if you don’t like what she makes??

She goes to the kitchens and almost bails out, even briefly entertains the thought of passing off the chef’s cooking for her own, but chases that thought from her mind. The palace servants gets to witness the Countess roll up her sleeves with a determined grunt and go ham on some pistachios. 

You wait patiently in the solar (as she instructed), and Nadia brings up a beautiful tray of brightly colored nut-flour sweets with tea. Nadia herself is a little worse for wear, with a dusty face and tangled hair. But she’s thrilled to see you enjoy her cakes. They taste wonderful, doubly so because of the love she put into them.        

-- Muriel -- 

He almost always cooks for himself, ever since his street urchin childhood, and his skills have only improved while living in the woods. He’s no longer scraping mussels off of dock beams to boil in a thin cauldron, he’s hunting 8-feet-tall elk and using every inch of the animal, from boiling the hooves for aspic, to making sausages out of the intestines (the antlers are powdered for their magical properties).

It’s rarer that he ever wants for something he can’t produce himself. He boils his own sea salt, curdles his own cheese, presses his own oil. The problem is that he doesn’t make an effort to make delicious-tasting food. Unlike Julian, who cooks like shit but still enjoys the finer things in life, Muriel has access to super fresh and good-quality ingredients but is ruled by his practicality.

Living in the woods is tough. If the harvest was bad and all Muriel has is last autumn’s rice harvest, then its porridge for the next month. There’s nothing for it; hunting is unreliable even in an expert’s hands, fishing only a tad less so, and a simple wet season or early frost can ruin a garden quicker than a plague. 

Muriel may have said he didn’t need your help around the hut, but your help truly did make a difference when it came to food security. An extra set of hands made for less time and lighter work. Your influence also shined through his cooking; now, he actually does care if something tastes good, because you were eating it with him. Muriel could survive just fine on perpetual pottages, but you deserved better.

Hence, roasts that are actually seasoned, bread with jam and butter, and salt not just for preserving purposes. 

Cooking stopped becoming just a means, but a creative outlet for Muriel. He wanted to treat you, and in turn it became something special for himself, too. 

-- Portia --

The Devorak siblings have one collective braincell, and Portia’s got dibs on it. So she’s got the cooking skills that seemed to have eluded Julian, and she’s very good; the best out of the six. 

As a hand-maiden, cooking isn’t part of her duties, but to even get hired she had to prove she could hold her own in the kitchen on par with royal cuisine. It’s beyond simply being able to replicate a recipe, she knows how to carve game into the right cuts, memorize the seasonal harvests, estimate temperatures by touch, and other complicated kitchen sciences. 

Portia spent her life traveling on ships, so she’s witness many a worldly cuisine and it’s influenced her skills. Nothing impresses a table more than introducing some ‘exotic’ spice and using it right. Her own personal favorites are from all corners of the land. Her dinner spread can consist of Hjalle shrimp pancakes, Galbradian green bean broth, Prakran flatbread, and lamb roasted in an underground oven like they do in Firent.  

Once she has the opportunity to cook (or bake) for you, be prepared for a storm. You’re never gonna have to want for good cuisine again, not if Portia has anything to say about it. Even the little things she makes, like her strawberry jam or workhouse-style bread, taste great. You ask her why she doesn’t pursue a career in cuisine, and she replies that cooking is an outlet for her, not a job. Plus, she’s far from a ‘truly skilled cook’, according to her. That honor’d go to Mazelinka. 

A lot of her budget she’ll happily relinquish to cooking, such as imported spices or the expensive cuts of game. She knows that the smallest difference in quality - such as in the salt, or vinegar, used - can make or break a dish. Her kitchen is always fully stocked with groceries and ingredients. One of her big splurges was investing in an icebox, and before she had you, a magician, in the picture, she was indeed buying ice to keep her meats fresh.

Whether its a wrapped lunch or weekend roast dinner, Portia will always want to spoil you in the best way she knows how; through your stomach. Your waistline might be less happy, but like heck Portia’d take pudge as a negative.

-- Lucio --

He’s been Count for over two decades, but before that he was a rough-and-tumble mercenary. And before that, he grew up in the infamous Scourge Lands, where etching out a living was always a matter that teetered on the brink of a knife.

He had to learn how to live tough. The Scourge Lands are no lush forest like Muriel’s backyard, it’s a flat tundra with limited vegetation and even lesser animals that aren’t more likely to kill you before you kill them. The entire clan’s been living off of bitter turnips for weeks, but finally a family of boars are scouted. Now you just have to take down a bear-sized boar while circling around five others who all want to gore you. 

Even cooking can be a struggle. Life as a mercenary meant trying to strike fires on cold, damp wood in a freezing drizzle, and keeping it lit long enough to roast the skinny fish you managed to spear. It meant knowing which plants were edible and which caused three nights of stomach pains, and also being willing to resort to digging up grubs when you’re really on the brink of starvation.

So does he know how to cook? Yeah, he can roast meat over a fire and know when its safe from pathogens, but other than that he’s lost. He was so happy to finally have cooks and servants to serve him entire banquets. Never did he learn (nor want to learn) how to bake bread, or fry potatoes, nevermind suckling pig or creme brulee. 

If come a time where you and Lucio are away from the precious palace kitchens, he’ll rely on his wallet to buy the two of you a nice meal. If the two of you are lost in the wilderness, don’t worry, Lucio to the rescue and you can trust him to forage something, and grill it on a hot rock. No salt, though. Not even water to wash it down, if you’re really unlucky.

Still, it’s kinda a surprise to eat Lucio’s emergency field cooking, because it’s not awful. The best anyone can do in the circumstance, even. Make sure to tell him that, he’s always fishing for compliments. 

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.5 Reflections

Summary: You must pass one introspection check to move on.

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

Kagami eyed Nino as he flew just behind Adrien and herself. Tail twitching as she contemplated whether she was more amused or annoyed.

"We're not going to do anything, Nino," Adrien called back, paws skimming over the air currents. "You don't have to keep following us."

"Uh-huh," Nino replied, unconvinced. Not looking up from preparing his tea, which laid in front of him on an extra large hexagon. "That's what you always say."

"What reason have we given you to doubt us?" Kagami snorted, exhaling a small cloud that drifted into Nino.

Nino wiped the specks of moisture that clung to his hair and face with one hand. Flicking his other wrist, a scroll appearing and starting to unroll. "You want the short version?"

"I can't believe you have a list!" Adrien pouted.

Kagami wondered how he did that in cat form. "You know the council insists protectors keep a record of their interventions."

"I know, love. I meant: I can't believe you brought a list with you!" Adrien eyed the scroll as it kept unrolling. Fluttering in the wind as it went on and on... and on. "Isn't this a bit off?"

"These are just the natural disasters." Using his free hand to hold his tea up and sip from it, Nino looked rather smug.

A mischievous gleam sparked in Kagami's eyes. "Like that volcanic eruption you and Alya were intimately familiar with?"

Nino choked on his tea. The now kilometer long scroll shot back into his hand and vanished. "Th-th-that was one time!"

Kagami was only mildly disappointed he didn't spray tea everywhere but the rest of his reaction was incredibly satisfying. "Yes. It was very memorable."

Sidling up to Nino, Adrien shifted, hand reaching for the teapot. "Such passion, you were lucky that tsunami dissipated before hitting any of the inhabited islands."

Cheeks darkening in embarrassment, Nino sat up straight. "You wanna talk volcanoes? What about- Oh, no, you don't!"

Nino snatched his teapot out of Adrien's reach and pushed him away with his foot. "Tea is for best friends who behave!"

"Aw, c'mon, Nino! Please?" Adrien widened his eyes and added a subtle halo to his hair.

Eye twitching at the assault on his resolve, Nino forced himself to shake his head.

Shifting, Kagami knelt opposite Nino on his hexagon. "Adrien, initiate Plan Neko."

Grinning, Adrien shifted and laid his feline head on his paws. Large eyes sparkling as his ears drooped pleadingly.

Nino tried to hide behind his hands but it was too late. He could feel those big, feline eyes staring at him. So innocent and trusting and- "Alright, fine! Just stop, god!"

"Yay!"

Adrien materialized his cup and held it out to Nino. Kagami following suit. Glaring at both of them, Nino reluctantly poured them tea.

Eagerly bringing the hot liquid to his lips, Adrien gasped. Sticking his tongue out as it burned him.

Nino scowled, arms crossed. "Why're you so darn cute?"

"Adrien is significantly larger than a lion and his claws can tear through the fabric of reality," Kagami pointed out as she blew on her tea.

"I know! It's adorable!"

Well, she couldn't argue with that. "Agreed."

Adrien beamed like the cat who got the cream at their praise. Then reached for the container of said cream.

She eyed him with mild displeasure.

Noticing this, Nino smirked. "If you're going to be together you'll have to get used to Adrien taking his tea with milk."

Kagami waved this away. "Just because Adrien has terrible taste in tea doesn't mean I love him any less."

Sticking his tongue out in a decidedly more deliberate manner, Adrien exaggerated the motion of adding his milk.

Smiling at her chosen partner's foolery Kagami sipped regally from her own cup. "... It was Marinette's idea for you to follow us, wasn't it?"

Far less embarrassed at being found out than about the volcano incident Nino just shrugged.

"Just like a creation goddess to butt in on another goddesses' business." Though Kagami acknowledged that Marinette was particularly prone to this.

"I mean, Mari's hardly ever wrong, goddess," Nino reminded her.

"It's that sort of thinking that let's her get away with it." Kagami pointed a finger at Nino for emphasis. Dragons had long memories and Kagami was no ordinary dragon.

"As opposed to you, Ryuko," Adrien teased her. "You never let anyone get away with anything."

"I accept your gratitude for preventing the formation of bad habits."

Adrien's eyes softened as he smiled at her. Kagami taking a careful sip as pink dusted her cheeks. By the heavens those eyes were dangerous.

"Gods if you could not make me the third wheel that would be great!" Nino protested.

Turning to face his best friend, Adrien raised an eyebrow. "Oh, like you and Alya were so subtle."

"Subtler than you two."

He thought that wasn't being subtle? Kagami leaned forward and pulled Adrien close to her. Then planted a kiss firmly on his lips. The wind picked up along with their heartbeats. Thunder booming in the distance. Clouds swirling together.

Breaking apart with a gasp, Kagami glanced at Nino and- The smug little turtle was grinning! Chin resting on his cupped hands as he gazed happily at them.

"Oh, no. Please stop," Nino protested sarcastically.

Blinking to clear the surprise and passion from his eyes Adrien looked from Nino to Kagami. A single name passed between them. "Alya."

This is what Kagami got for being friends with love goddesses. She was used to Alya and Marinette's shenanigans, though. And gave as good as she got.

"I warned you," Adrien intoned.

"Doesn't count, god!" Nino protested.

Instead of replying Adrien gently turned Kagami's face and gave her a kiss of his own. More prepared this time, the only reaction was sparks of lightning between them. The stormclouds they accidentally summoned already dissipating.

Letting their breath mix together,  Kagami asked. "What was that for?"

"You caught me by surprise." The 'I barely had time to enjoy it' came across as clearly as if Adrien had spoken aloud.

Stretching as he stood up, Adrien rolled his neck. Eyes locking onto Nino's. They grinned at each other.

Nino shot off the hexagon as Adrien pounced after him.

Kagami traced her name on its surface to stabilize it in case Nino's magic was directed elsewhere. Considering the way he ran across floating, hexagonal steps with Adrien at his heels that was very likely.

Her scales itched to be a part of the hunt but two against one was hardly fair. She'd ask to spar with Adrien later to make up for it. And if he thought 'Ryuko' would go easy on him just because they were together... No, Adrien never insulted anyone by going easy on them. It was one of the reasons she liked him so much.

Case in point, Nino was Adrien's best friend. He was barely keeping out of Adrien's paws but Adrien didn't let up.

Kagami stared at the reflection in her cup, thinking about her friends. Marinette liked to think she thought things through more than others. This was inaccurate. She was simply annoyingly good at thinking on her feet. While Kagami was arguably the better combatant, Marinette was invariably the best strategist.

And Nino kept his wits about him when even Marinette had trouble finding hers. As demonstrated by the momentary shift into his large turtle form to rebound Adrien from his magically reinforced shell before scampering off again.

Adrien, when he bothered to use it, had more forethought than any of them. However, his intelligence was usually overshadowed by his impulsiveness. Something Kagami also needed to work on. But his instinctive talent with people was second to none. Kagami often thought that if he had been a love god no one could stand against him.

There was a flash as Adrien shattered Nino's magical shield... Not that standing against him now was an easy task.

He was a contradiction. Adrien the Destroyer. Adrien the Merciful. Countless mortals would never know that he had chosen to spare them judgment where other destroyers did not hesitate.

Kagami... understood what it was like to have a complex relationship between mortals and her sacred duty. Every piece of himself Adrien shared with her gave her a clearer picture of who he is.

Marinette by contrast was more confusing. She couldn't not imagine every possible consequence to a given scenario. It wasn't in her nature. Yet, whenever her friends were involved she plunged in headfirst without bothering to check for rocks beneath the surface. Kagami enjoyed teasing her about that for the next few decades.

Creation goddesses were never satisfied. Even a 'finished work' was merely a stepping stone to something greater. As such, they tended to deliberate. Destroyers were the ax that cut off the infected branch to save the tree. A task that appeared deceptively straightforward on the outside.

Much like Adrien's fighting style. He didn't let up. Didn't give his opponent room to breathe, time to think. A development no doubt spurred by his many sparring sessions with Marinette and, Kagami was pleased to note, integrating part of her own fighting style.

Despite the generally fickle nature of other weather gods' Kagami always knew what she wanted in a way her friends and now partner didn't. Weather had patterns, rules, seasons. In spite of her disregard for the council (and love for an embodiment of chaos) Kagami valued order.

Maybe that was why she was so drawn to them. They broke the rules in different ways. Marinette regarded rules more as polite suggestions. Taking whatever steps she thought necessary in any given situation. Adrien followed all he believed to be fair (another contradiction). If a rule protected someone he would defend it utterly and break it as casually as shifting if someone was harmed by it.

Kagami fell somewhere in the middle. Dragons were creatures of order. Yet here she was, disobeying the council on her way to break a curse that was most definitely deserved when it was cast. 

Adrien landing back on the hexagon with his arms locked around Nino's head was a welcome distraction. Kagami had no desire to go over her Mother's lessons on Celestial Law at the moment.

"We talked about this, Nino," Adrien chastised. "What did we say about enabling love goddesses?"

"Can we call it something else?" Nino squirmed in Adrien's unyielding hold. Unsuccessfully trying to push his head out.

"No," Kagami stated simply.

"Aw, c'mon gods! You know things usually work out!" Nino was referring to Marinette and Alya's meddling.

"Marinette already thinks she's smarter than everyone. I won't have Alya thinking it too." They'd be insufferable together (more than usual) and Kagami could not allow that. Her dignity took enough hits as it is.

Twisting his head at an angle to get a better look at her, Nino pointed out. "Marinette is smarter than everyone."

Adrien nodded appreciatively. "He's got a point, love."

"All the more reason!" Kagami knew, intellectually, that she was being silly. But... it'd been a long time since she got the opportunity. "What did we say about enabling love goddesses?" she repeated Adrien's words.

Nino sighed. "To, not to."

Adrien released him after playfully rubbing his hair. "It's for their own good," Adrien reminded him.

"I don't see why-"

"Your tea's getting cold." Kagami pointed at the barely steaming cup.

"Nooooooo!" Rushing forward, Nino quickly downed it before it could cool any further.

Adrien mimicked his best friend but his tea was still quite hot.

Smirking at him, Kagami answered Nino's unfinished question. "I like my privacy."

"It's true. My Ryuko values her alone time." Adrien sighed contentedly as he drank a protector's tea.

Kagami arched an eyebrow the way Adrien had taught her. "Your Ryuko?"

Tilting his head, Kagami could've sworn Adrien shifted for a second. "Am I not your cat?"

Trying to hide her blooming blush, Kagami brought her cup up and subtly lengthened the sleeves of her kimono.

That didn't stop Adrien from purring. Obviously taking her reaction as affirmation. He laid his hand between them and Kagami wrapped her fingers around his.

"Love you, Ryuko," Adrien stated simply, sincerely. For no other reason than because he wished to say it.

"And I love you." In the back of her mind Kagami decided he was far too good at making her blush. The scales had to be balanced... later.

"And Alya thought they needed a push," Nino mumbled to himself, refilling his cup.

Unbothered by the great winds of the upper sky, the three gods flew towards the setting sun. Speaking of events millennia past throughout the night. Their destination illuminated by the dawn.

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

@kagamiappreciationweek2020 Super late!

[kanene-yaaay]

I’m not ticklish!!

Kanene’s note: Yeah, yeah, I have like: two braincells to made titles and they are on vacations at this exact moment, sO-

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Logan and Ler!Virgil (It can be seen as Romantic or Platonic Analogical).

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site! Like, for real. It’s stunning! ‘u’).

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* I just realized I haven’t written any Analogical tickles with Lee!Logan, and???? S h a m e   o n   m e . So I finally decided to change it. It’s a very silly plot, but I kind of had fun writing, soooo... Someday will make a teasy tickle fanfic, I promisse xDDD.

* E a versão em português ainda está em reforma! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Play games, don’t cheat, run under some rain and don’t forget to drink water! Byeioo!~

                                [~*~]

 Thomas has a crush.

 - You aren’t tickling… however I can’t help myself but smile every time I’m near to you. – Logan stared at the computer, lightly biting his lower lip, habit that showed up only when he was nervous. – Do you think this is adequate?

 Virgil only dignited his being to roll his eyes, something that, even if the logic side wasn’t with his eyes captured by the severe amount of sites explaining about feelings, reading profusely every bit of information he could pursuit, the said wouldn’t be able to see since the purple lover decided to lay upside down in the bed, half of him almost falling from the furniture, being almost the fifth or sixth strange position he tried in order to best erase the pain in his back and attempt to change something due the enormous hours both spent in that same conversation.

 - Uhh. This is ridiculous. Are you really trying to find a flirt to every subject that could be brought up in a normal conversation? Tickles? You are taking this too far, and that is something coming from me. Go to sleep, Logan.

- Absolutely not. Any and every point can be crucial in a competition.

 Okay, let us recapitulate: Thomas has a crush and of course, the sides would take advantages of this. No long time ago, it has been proclaimed in all the Mind Palace the start of the ‘Love Games~’ what is, primarily, a series of challenges where who blushed first lost the match and a specifically amount of points (depending of the difficult of the challenge), however, it was possible to recapture or accumulate more points doing random flustering action through the day, as gifts, flirts, carts… anything that leaded the features of the victim be set in flames. Patton and Roman ganged up to explain how much this activity could be essential in order to help to build self-love and the others sides simply couldn’t find something to deny it.

 (Actually, Virgil could think in a great bunch of reasons why all of this could being a very bad idea, but now, think about it and convince them to stop when this competition would mean Free Crofters to Logan, Free Praises to Roman and just Patton showing them all the love he could give was a totally different story. Without telling that he would do anything to see Janus becoming a flushed mess and part of himself was kind of curious to see if someone would succeed in making the Gremlin Boy blush.)

 And, being really sincere, the one wearing hoodie was impressed with how much all the Light Sides matched with the Others in being competitive, until this day Roman already had made five serenates, Patton obtained a good amount of points only with his gifts and zero notion of personal space, Janus got almost everyone with his ‘Appear from absolutely nowhere, grabs your chin, stares intensely, grins, kisses your forehead and go away’ and Virgil kept himself well with his victories in the commons challenges. The embodiment of Flight or Fight instinct have no idea about what Remus was preparing, but as it seems Logan was trying to get in the ranking beginning and winning Flirt Wars.

 - Albeit, I believe you are correct. I’m not even ticklish for this saying.

 Virgil almost fell of the other’s bed with the astonished laughter that escaped from his lips.

 - I choose to ignore your mocking, thank you. – Pointed Logan, his voice in slightly traces of irritation.

 - Mocking? – The one wearing hoodie gave a half spin, sitting normally in a blink of eye. – I’m just laughing about something that clearly is a lie.

 - I think this is an information that doesn’t belong to you.

 Virgil scoffed, rising one eyebrow as he rested his chin in his hand.  

 - I am not ticklish!! – Logan repeated, feeling a bit childish with the tune chosen to defend himself, or perhaps it was the turn this conversation was taking.

 An evilly grin, a bit alike the Cheshire Cat, darkly gleamed in the other’s feature.

 - So you would mind a little… experiment, am I right?

 The logical aspect gulped, adjusting his tie and deviating their glare for a piece of moment.

 - A-absolutely no.

 Fingers quickly found way to his neck, scratching so lightly that barely touched his skin, going up, circling that exact spot behind his ears and appreciating the surprised squeal that floated from Logan’s mouth before focusing some special wriggles in that place. However, don’t taking too much before going down fluttering towards under his chin and in the base of his neck the best he could with the other shrugging and ducking his head in a hope to stop his big wobbly smile to be seen. Movement which also prevented the ‘not ticklish’ one to notice one of Virgil’s hands to travel to his back, being quick in landing spidery tickles in his lower back, sometimes slipping to give his ribs some pokes and prodding, something that finally bring up the babbled giggles to the daylight.

 - -Nahahahahahahahaha!! Viihihihihihihihirgihihihihil!! – And he squirmed, the sensation being as unbearable to ignore as too much good to escape. It was almost… relaxing. In a very electric way.

 - Tsc. – The anxious aspect let go a chuckle, still not believing in how the scene unfold before his eyes, albeit absolutely hypnotized with how the high squeaks and snorts intertwined the low giggles from the usually so contained side. Virgil’s thumbs applied a light pressure in the other’s spine, the attacker smugly watching how this leaded to a gasp as Logan jumped and arched his back, quickly starting to knead and buzz his fingers in each one of the ‘victim’ vertebras, following all the way up, totally unbothered by the, now very much increased, squirming. – And who would say that the embodiment of rationality just need some few tickles to become a helpless, giggly puddle, huh?

 - Shuhuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhACK!!! – The purple lover found a particularly sensitive space between his shoulder blades, being responded by Logan’s loud, and endearing childish, laughter as its owner struggled more to be free from the malefic, tickly fingers, obligating Virgil to wrap an arm around his waist and without mercy squeeze his hips in random, quick patterns. – NonononHOHOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHE-

 - But what is the matter, Logan? – His voice was a whisper, although not only because it sent shivers down his victim’s spine, but also because he wasn’t really certain that the one with glasses could really hear him in any other way with how much he trashed and crackled, as it seems these two spots being one of his most sensitive ones. – Didn’t you just said you aren’t ticklish? – He gave him a break, going to his ribs in spidering, soft tickles, being sure to surprise Logan now and then with sudden pokes between them. Logan used the opportunity to breathe more evenly, even with the giggly fit and flames that took over his body. – But…no! Maybe you were lying? Perhaps this… - The grin in his lips was almost perceptible in his low tune, the words slowly rolling over his tongue as he digged into his armpits and got a surprised yelp as answer, the giggles getting louder and switched to laughter as its owner shook his head, denying. – can tickle tickle tickle tickle you silly?

 The ‘I’m always serious, necktie!’ clapped his arms at his sides and hided his red face and wide smile in his hands. Virgil felt the grin painted in his face only get bigger. Now he was just making this too much easy.

 The one wearing hoodie took a deep breath and released a raspberry right on his poor, forgotten and defenseless neck, the vibrations hitting every single one of his ticklish nerves and leading to a serious shriek to run from Logan’s mouth.

 - VIRGIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIL!!! NAHAhahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahaHA!! – Logan squirmed until finally escaped and fell in the bed: butterflies flying in his belly, smile from an ear to another, remain giggles, watery, shiny eyes and… a blush that painted his entire face.

 - Thank you for the new score, mister ‘I’m not ticklish’~ - Virgil teased as laid comfortably whilst the mattress, crossing his arms and using them as a pillow while closed his eyes and ignored Logan’s annoyed grumble.

 … And also the way his eyes instantly gleamed when they focused in his unprotected stomach and sides, an evil smile creeping its way to his lips.

[mochhio]

Karasuno’s last party

Hey hey hey! Cookies! 

This is my gift for @theorangecourt‘s anniversary event! I can’t believe it’s been a year minus 1 month

I hope you like this! It’s 2.5k words of Karasuno fluff and being dorks (plus it ended up being a balm to cure recent manga induced injuries what do you know). 

Basically Karasuno’s third years are graduating and the team wants to do something for them! So what’s better than throwing a slumber party?

After Nationals, Karasuno’s third years are left with no more excuses to continue being on the team. Through February and March, the four of them are too busy with their exams, job hunting, college applications, and all the responsibilities that convey being a senior student in high school a step away from graduating. It’s difficult enough for them to squeeze some time to meet their underclassmen in the halls. Suga likes to visit the 1st years’ classes while they’re on lunch break, Kiyoko texts regularly with Yachi offering advice (she knows Yachi would be too embarrassed to “inconvenience�� Kiyoko like that), Daichi tries to keep his distance slightly from Ennoshita since he doesn’t want it to seem like he doesn’t trust Enno with the team. The one who has slightly more time to come by is Asahi, he even manages to stay and practice sometimes whenever Take-chan doesn’t berate him for it.

No one doubted that the new starting team would be as good as how it had been with the third years, but their absence is felt. Not so much as how they play in court (though obviously they still have a ways to go before getting properly in sync) so much as the hole they left in the team dynamics. Everyone misses them, some more vocally than others, and it's such a waste that they were taken from the team so abruptly without even a proper goodbye!

Hinata tells Kenma all of this during one of their usual text convos, he would really want to have a bomb-ass party so they can send off their senpai properly! He knows Tanaka and Noya would help him, although maybe the rest would be a little reluctant to comply with any of their crazy plans. Still! He wants the team to do something special for them! And that’s when the idea pops, how about they have a training camp!

He tries to be sneaky and tell Kageyama first but he's soon caught by the rest of the first years. Yamaguchi and Yachi think that's a great idea! Though Tsukishima is soon to destroy any of his enthusiasm. "We're almost at the end of the year, where could you fit in a training camp? Plus, the third years are too busy as is". Hinata's solution is to host the training camp after school ends duh! And in his moment of bravado to prove Tsukishima wrong they go to Ennoshita.

"It's ridiculous." 

"It's genius!"

"In fact, it is ridiculous." Ennoshita turns down Hinata's idea without a second thought. "Tsukishima's right, even if we could fit in a camp the third years wouldn't be able to participate."

Not officially at least, so Hinata hangs on to that, "But what about a non-official training camp? The weekend after graduation?" That doesn't sound too bad honestly, and if it's not official Ennoshita has no saying in denying it and so, they go to Ukai and Take-chan. After some initial reluctance, they manage to convince them and so, the only thing that's left is to get the third years to agree. Fortunately, they agree to it! It sounds like a good idea and the best way to celebrate.

Since it’s not official they all have to chip in with a little contribution, even the neighbors association and family cooperate to make the whole thing possible. They booked rooms in the same inn where they stayed for the golden week, Ukai brings snacks and drinks from Sakanoshita and Shimada also gets stuff from the supermarket. Akiteru offers his old TV and console for them to play and watch movies, Takinoue lends them a karaoke set and helps set it (with the inn’s approval ofc) and Saeko brings proper food from her job.

They have a slumber party! They play Mario Kart, Daichi and Tsukishima are the ones always fighting for the first place. Usually, when he plays at home with his family since Daichi is the big bro he’s used to utterly destroying his little siblings in any and all videogames. Subsequently, even if Akiteru was always a big softie with Tsukki, as any respectable older sibling, he had no mercy when it came to games. So for both Tsukki and Daichi, it feels like something personal and somehow this petty rivalry ends up in the whole team dividing into two teams for the rest of the night. Older siblings vs younger ones, with the only children being picked in the end as if they were forming dodgeball teams. 

So we have the Older sibs team comprised of Daichi, Hinata, Asahi, Kinoshita, Noya, Narita and Kiyoko. And the younger sibs: Tsukki, Tanaka, Yamaguchi (he also had to suffer Akiteru’s gamer bloodthirst), Suga, Ennoshita, Kageyama and Yachi

For the first few rounds after they started playing in teams the YS were winning everything. Not even 20 minutes into it Kinoshita had to stop Noya from trying to leap at Tsukishima and get rid of his smug grin and snarky remarks. It’s getting late and someone is going to end up getting thrown a real banana to their head so they decide to start with karaoke early. Both because they don’t want to be too much trouble for the owners but mostly to have everyone at peace and far from using their controllers as actual projectiles. Also, they do have to wrap up everything early since Take-chan managed to get the school gym open for the next day so they can have one last practice as a team.

Somehow they manage to turn karaoke into a competition and despite Asahi being timid as usual, the pure raw of Noya (with Kinoshita as his second vocals), feral Suga, Hinata’s...well all of him (it seems like he injected pure sugar into his bloodstream) is enough to beat the others in any screaming competition. “It is not a screaming competition” Daichi tries to settle them down with no luck. Also, who would’ve known Kiyoko and Narita knew the lyrics to all of the power rangers intros huh. 

On the other hand, Tsukki outright refused to sing, Kageyama trips over his own tongue and they found out how tragical his timing is outside of volleyball, Yachi looks like he’s going to get a heart attack and drench her clothes in sweat. That is until Tanaka tells her they should do a duet. “But I don’t even know this song!”, “Don’t worry! It’s screamo so just let it all out” and MAN does she let it out, they won that round no doubts. Other than that Ennoshita is pretty mellow, and Yamaguchi does have a nice voice but this is a war and he’s going to need more than that to win.

Now they’re 1 to 1 and they definitely should go to sleep now but they can’t leave the score like this. So they try to settle it with a quick and simple game of charades. Oh, but how foolish were they.

Since this is technically a celebration for the third years the team decides it’s only fair to have them write the papers down. They use movies, shows, obscure references no one will guess courtesy of Suga, the team members themselves, anything they can think of.

Surprisingly it is not as chaotic as it could be, somehow they get so focused during their rounds to start bickering with the other team. The MVP definitely is Yachi, from the first action the player does she starts shouting any and all the words she can think of, it would sound as if she’s making random guesses but since she has so much attention to even the smallest of detail her guesses end up being accurate more times than not. Tanaka does pretty much the same but his guesses are way off, although he makes up for it being incredibly expressive whenever his turn to act out the charade comes. Another scary addition to the YS team is Ennoshita who is able to guess every single movie before the player in turn even finishes acting it and though no one other than Suga himself gets his own references since some of them are cinematographic Enno manages to hold a candle to those. 

Somehow Tsukki gets too caught up in the whole thing that he forgets to wear his usual uninterested façade and plays seriously, he even gets angry when Kageyama fails to guess most of the references. “That’s milk? Cheese? A cheeseburger?”, “IT’S TOAST YOU ABSOLUTE MORON”. Needless to say they lost that round by default but watching poker-faced Tsukki get genuinely worked up is worth it. When Yamaguchi gets ‘Kageyama’ he ruffles his hair over his eyes to look emo and brooding, puts on a scowl and starts making tossing noises. For a hot 10 no one talks, not because they don’t know what the word is, but because they know and don’t want to laugh so loud in front of Kageyama himself. Which is really difficult since Kageyama himself is completely oblivious and genuinely trying to figure out what Yamaguchi is hinting at until Tsukki snaps and shouts “IT’S YOU, DUMBASS”. The team can’t contain their laughter as Kageyama replies with an undignified “Huh?”. “Being around Kageyama has rubbed off on Tsukishima” Hinata quietly tells his team but Tsukki’s ears are sharp as ever and he throws his stare as daggers to Hinata.

For the other team is easier, at least in the sense that there’s no incessant bickering most of the time. But it doesn’t help that the team’s collective braincell is mostly concentrated in the other team. Whenever someone gets Suga’s cards come up the one who reads it spends more time struggling to get what it even means than actually acting it out. “But you were there when he wrote them!” “I didn’t have a clue back then and you expect me to know what it means right now?”. Asahi is better guessing than acting out, though his volume leaves much to be desired and Noya ends up being his megaphone, although he shouts everything and it is barely intelligible. He’s also the ultimate hypeman, cheering everyone up and clapping everyone's backs when they have to stand up to act. However, he’s too focused he ends up scolding the players when they’re not being clear or enthusiastic enough. Hinata is pretty good at acting out but he lets out to many onomatopoeias when he’s supposed to be silent. At first they were giving him penalties but poor thing did it so often they just decided to cover his mouth with a sleep mask whenever it was his turn. 

Despite Daichi’s confidence, he’s not exactly what you would call hip with the kids so he stays silent with a deep frown like even understanding the words themselves presents a struggle. That’s just excuses though, whenever he’s in the place of acting he spends more time thinking about what to do than doing it. “BUT YOU WROTE THAT ONE????” “I thought it would be difficult to the other team! I didn’t take a second to genuinely think about how to act out air salonpas!”. It doesn’t help either that he likes to point at stuff which is against the rules, and Suga is quick to let him know by making loud buzzer sounds from his side of the room. The job of guessing is relegated to Kiyoko, Kinoshita, and Narita. Each of them has their strong points which balance each other, still, more than one time they ran out of time because they started arguing in the middle of a charade about what it could be instead of just shouting it like any other normal person! 

Overall! The team that managed to keep it together better was...

...

....

.....

The younger siblings.

Hinata feels both Tsukishima’s and Kageyama’s insufferable stares, he instinctively turns to them and witnesses as their faces twist into matching disgusting grimaces, he also catches a glimpse of slight grins in Yamaguchi and Yachi’s faces. Suga comes up to the other three years and tells them to pick up their slack! How is it that all these kids could beat ‘em but he does admit that it would’ve been difficult if it had only been up to him. Noya is kinda bummed but he’s quick to get over it and bring the other two second years to congratulate the other team! He high fives his bro and Suga and pats all the first year’s heads (despite Tsukishima’s reluctance). Narita sighs fondly at the scary 1st years and Kinoshita gives everyone a thumbs up. Noya comes up to Ennoshita and gives him an enthusiastic slap on the back, “Good job Chikara! as expected from our captain!” Everyone falls silent.

The tension is so thick it could be cut up with a knife, no one dares to break the uncomfortable silence, least of all Ennoshita who looks so mortified he might faint at any moment.

Finally, Daichi is the one to step forward and he moves until he reaches Ennoshita grips his shoulder with a firm hand. “Yeah, the team is in good hands.” 

Somehow that feels like a punch to Ennoshita’s gut and he moves his face downwards as faint sobs leave him. Just like that, one after the other, quiet sobs can be heard throughout the room. Tears dampening cheeks but never quite reaching the ground. They’re sad tears, happy tears, tears born from frustration and relief and longing, shed for the regrets of the past and the vast unknown that is the future but most importantly they are being shed at the present moment. No one acknowledges them, but no one really needs to. During the past three years Daichi, Kiyoko, Asahi, and Suga have shed lots of tears for different reasons and they know that they’ll continue crying for as long as they keep on fighting. 

These waterfalls are not dampening the evening, quite the opposite, they’re the perfect conclusion to their high school career. The four of them helped rebuild this team from the ground up, each of nurturing in their own ways. They all have regrets and things they would’ve done differently but seeing right now their wonderful teammates and everything they’ve achieved together they can have closure and come to terms with saying goodbye and trusting the fruits of their hard work to the next generation.

Eventually, the cryfest stops and even though they try to joke to lighten the mood the 14 of them are left exhausted. They try to clean up some and get ready to take a quick bath and get to sleep.

The next day starts on a better note, they’re all excited for their last practice as a team and vigorously fill up their stomachs before giving it their all.

They warm-up and practice serves as always, or better said as ‘in the old times’. They have enough people to go 6 vs 6 and so they play as many sets as they can. Suga teases them, Daichi tells them to cut their slack, Asahi encourages them and Kiyoko supports them from the sidelines. 

They lose track of which team ends up winning, especially since they kept switching members every few sets but who cares about that.

They got to play like they always wanted to, giving it their all, as a family.