#i was doing this at 3 in the morning yesterday. the most appropriate and responsible time to do research on a weeknight

[ban--tam]

i've been conducting some serious challia bull research here

[amyscascadingtabs]

this is sappy but whatever. i wrote most of this before the season started (which is why i come off as reasonable and somewhat mentally stable about all of this) but felt appropriate to post it now as a thank you. ❤️

i have vivid memories from the night b99 was cancelled. the news came late evening my time, and i had been editing fic and checked twitter and there it was. loud and clear. i don’t remember which site it was but the picture was jake and amy with their wedding cake and that made everything feel even worse.

i remember freaking out even though i had been prepared, because those last days before the news hit on tumblr were... panicked. but i still freaked out to the extent that i ran outside in my pajama pants and hoodie and blue plastic slippers and called my mom, and then i walked up and down the streets where i lived in the darkness and cried in frustration as she tried to talk me down. i remember there were random guys with motorcycles out? but i was too hysterical to care. i’m pretty sure i screamed something to my mom about ”HOW CAN BIG BANG THEORY GET A BILLION SEASONS BUT THIS SHOW GETS CANCELLED????”

i know everyone who was in the fandom at the time has their cancellation story. what played the biggest part in mine was the fact that i felt like i hadn’t had enough time. really, i had only just become active in the fandom, only just started interacting with people on here and writing my first few fics, but i was absolutely loving it. it was giving me happiness again after a long period of emptiness and depressive feelings. when it was cancelled, what made me feel the worst was the fact that i’d had so little time – to make friends, write fic and react to episodes together. i felt deeply jealous of everyone who’d gotten more.

thinking about it coming to an end now has made me remember that night and those feelings of jealousy. because i did get more time. i got three more years. that night, i remember asking for just one, for a half, for anything, and i got three years.

and these three years have been a whirlwind of emotions and feelings and episodes and debates and discussions and gifsets and fanfic and asks and having this as my safe space while pretty much everything changed around me in the outside world, and i just want you all to know that i have never taken a single day of them for granted. this show could have been taken from me before i’d ever gotten the chance to grow with it and alongside it, and instead it was part of my life for three whole years.

i have a really, really good memory (four time quiz champion anyone? just me?okay <3), and i remember so much of it in such detail, and it's so weird to think about how long it's been when it also feels like yesterday.

i remember my first comment on peraltiago parenting experience, my first episode-related fic, the insane high after the renewal, staying up all night to watch the wedding live. i remember writing fanfiction on the beach while on vacation in greece, on a plane to berlin, at home on my parents balcony late late at night. i remember the honeymoon episode title being released, s6 starting filming again, the excitement over every little piece of news and finding about the cast directing. i remember labor fic and christmas fics and when i scroll back to pictures of my paris trip in january 2019 it's interspersed with a billion pictures of andy at the golden globes. i remember lighting my fairy lights in my little basement room and watching season 6 in bed at 2.30 am if it was a big episode, and watching it in the morning before fridays in high school most days. i remember writing post-ep fics during classes and on my phone on subways and trains. i remember the s7 news, and the casecation nerves and debates, and fucking kissgate. being named "the class amy santiago" by my friends when we graduated and getting a little silver paper plate to show for it. i remember the first fic exchange and inventing julian and simon santiago and i remember meeting @johnny-and-dora and eating wagamamas in manchester and talking about how simon santiago was DEFINITELY on the stairs and buying a little fake plant that i named andy plantberg (he's still in a box somewhere). i remember writing fic during slow hours in the ice cream shop i worked at. moving and putting up my framed b99 poster in my own apartment (very much still up). finding out about trying and everyone going fucking crazy. infertility fic. melissa's pregnancy news. s7 promo and standing outside my job the very first day and texting siân "AMY HAS TO PEE!!!!!???" because that was in the promo and we knew there were pregnancy tests involved in the first episode. the crazy happiness of s7 finally premiering. everyone going crazy about jake and amy deciding to start trying and how i could quote the scene verbatim the next few days. the week leading up to trying, what turned out to be the last normal week before the pandemic. the fucking MESS i was after that. the following week and ding dong and crying with happiness. being dizzy with hyperfixation joy the following day and barely feeling aware of the covid pandemic for the first few days because i was just thinking about jake and amy having a baby. getting through the first few weeks mostly because of b99. admiral peralta and finding out we were having a BOY and not even being disappointed even though the headcanon had been the opposite for years because it was perfect. the iconic b99 quizzes. lights out and mac being born. somehow managing 475 days before season 8, coping together when we got the news about the final season, watching the cast do their final day of filming. the first stream being interrupted by a storm warning and cutting out several minutes because of course. getting to see parents peraltiago and MAC and the insane speed with which those few seconds were giffed. more b99 quizzes. the vow renewal. the finale.

i remember all of it and so much more and as much as my heart is breaking, i’m trying to remind myself that i could have gotten none of this.

brooklyn nine-nine has been such an important part of my life. and it always, always will be, forever. i could have lost it all that night, and instead i got three more years. if i'd known that when i was walking the streets outside my house in the darkness in complete panic, i would have cried with happiness.

so thank you. all of you. for everything. ❤️❤️❤️ for the friendships, the joy, the asks, the debates, the fic response, EVERYTHING. whether we've shared three years or one or less, just know that i'm so grateful.

have some random pictures i found and screenshots from my private instagram (which is inactive so don't bother) from when i started this hyperfixation. jesus lmao 😭😭😭😭 i am less insane now. no i'm not. but i express it less on instagram.

[josefavomjaaga]

How to wean a king

Part of a long letter, written on June 7, 1812, by Doctor Corvisart, premier médecin at Napoleon’s court, to the infamous Duchesse de Montebello, Louise Lannes, about how much effort it cost him to see his authority respected by Madame de Montesquiou, head governess of Napoleon’s son.

Madame la Duchesse,

I will not let Isabey go without charging him with a word for you; and, though you have ordered him to see your children before he leaves, you will please not think it amiss if I tell you that they were all in perfect health when I had the pleasure of dining with them last Wednesday; so were all your family and your grandparents. Therefore, Madam, you may continue to follow your vagabond inclinations, go round the world, excel in the most excellent courts, and return at God's pleasure.

All the news, moreover, attests to the fact that Her Majesty the Empress is in excellent health; I believe this as much as I desire it: if one could consider, amongst all the symptoms which constitute it, the assurance of pregnancy, what wishes would be fulfilled. I think I can, without any impropriety, Madame la Duchesse, ask you to kindly offer Her Majesty the homage of my respect and my complete devotion.

Finally, Madam, you may announce to Her Majesty that the King of Rome is completely weaned: since and including last Wednesday (3 June), he has ceased to see his nurse, and consequently to suckle. I think he is all the better for it. I saw him yesterday. He is cheerful, drinking, eating and sleeping wonderfully and his teeth are growing.

The story of this weaning is rather piquant, and if you promise me, by oath, not to speak of it, even to Her Majesty, I will sketch it out for you.

The very morning of the day the Emperor left, he pushed me vigorously in the presence of the Prince of Neufchatel on the subject of weaning and ordered me to do everything I thought appropriate on this subject, under my responsibility. You know that the Moniteur of the next day announced that the king would be weaned at the end of May.

I went to Meudon on the following Wednesday; I informed Mme la Gouvernante of the unrestricted authorisation given to me by the Emperor, and, after discussing it with Messrs Bourdois, Auvity and Dubois (the first two not having a very clear opinion), I spoke of weaning the child. Mme la G... did not want to consent to this before writing to the Emperor. I explained to her in vain that His Majesty had given me the most formal and extensive authorisation; she did not want to go beyond that; I had to wait.

Here, it should be known that I learned indirectly that Mme la G... had made Messrs Bourdois and Auvity sign her opinion concerning the weaning of the King; they drew it up and signed it without informing me in any way. I have no doubt that Mme la G... must have strengthened her letter to the Emperor with the support of these signatures, undoubtedly in order to contrast the opinion of these gentlemen and thus delay the weaning. I made some trips to Meudon; I asked if the reply of His Majesty had arrived, and I was answered that it had not. I repeated a second time the absolute authorisation which I had received from the Emperor, that I was believable on my word; I had to wait.

I was not, as you can well imagine, Madame, without reluctance to see that no credence was given to what I was saying, and that they were trying, by gaining time, and by what I would almost dare to call deceptive tactics, to abort the execution of the weaning at the time I had proposed. What could be done? Wait for the Emperor's reply.

Finally, on Friday 29 May, on my way home in the evening, I received a note from Mme la G... (she had not signed it), in which she informed me that she had just received His Majesty's reply and that all the obstacles to weaning had been removed.

OBSTACLES! Weigh this word carefully, Madame, and, according to the facts I have just outlined, where did these obstacles come from?

I would observe, moreover, that Mme la G... does not give me the extract from the Emperor's letter concerning me in relation to weaning; I have had, in all this, as you see, only the strictest of essentials, still, still...

Finally, I went the following Wednesday to Meudon; I asked the opinion of these gentlemen, whose will the Emperor allowed me to do without; I asked them if, on their honour and in their soul and conscience, the king could be weaned without inconvenience and without delay? They said YES. We returned to the King's apartment; I decided on the weaning which they wanted to postpone for a few more days, I did not consent to it and they weaned. You know the rest. I will make no comment on this account, Madame la Duchesse; you are quite sure that it contains the exact truth, because you know my probity and my loyalty well. I will tell you only one thing, that the air of the court alters my physical and moral health, and that I would like to be away from it for ever, for half my fortune. Your trust, for you, for your children, for your family, my conscience and my honour, which are well known to you, is the only relief for so many tribulations. In any case, keep this history secret from me, for I have no draft of it and the facts will surely escape my memory [...]

What I love best is how Napoleon, clearly wishing to get the weaning done, instead of talking about it to the governess - who he probably knew would oppose him - sends old Corvisart into that battle 😁. (And Berthier is probably there for backup.)

The King of Rome was 14 months old, btw.

[ginnympotter]

call it even

Chapter 1: you’ll always know me

A/N: This is the first chapter of a 2 (or possibly 3? who knows) chapter Muggle AU fanfic inspired by tis the damn season and dorothea by taylor swift hehe hope you like it :) You can also read it on AO3 here.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and took a deep breath. It was way too early in the morning, she had just gotten off a long flight where she barely slept a wink, and she just didn’t have it in her to talk to any fans without the coffee she was impatiently waiting for at the LAX Starbucks.

But she turned around anyway, bracing herself, and then saw a face that jolted her so much she supposed she wouldn’t need the coffee anymore. “Harry?”

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled. Harry Potter was standing in front of her for the first time in almost a year, looking as handsome as ever. He was tired, his green eyes looking glazed behind his glasses, his hair pointing in all directions- though she could tell he didn’t try to comb it- wearing the grey-blue sweater she knew her Mum bought him years ago.

Without really thinking about it, she moved forward and hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he put his around her waist and hugged her back, but he also let go first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously, trying not to think too hard about him breaking the embrace before she could.

“My students had a tournament against a school out here,” he explained. “We lost though.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Oh, don’t be, I don’t mind. But the kids all seem like they’re going to jump out of the plane before we can make it home. I was up until 2am consoling the quarterback. My assistant coach is talking them all down now out there while I grab us coffee.”

She nodded, biting her lip. And then blurted out, “Why didn’t you call?” At Harry’s confused look, she added, “to tell me you were in L.A.?”

He cleared his throat, and Ginny saw a light blush creep up his neck. “Well, I knew you were away for your match. I caught some of it, you played great, as always.”

“Oh,” she responded, feeling stupid. She sometimes forgot that as a member of the U.S. Women’s Soccer team her schedule was often public knowledge. She felt a tug at her heart thinking about Harry still supporting her after all this time. “Right, thanks. I wish I could’ve shown you around the city. Did you like it here?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, but big cities aren’t really my style. You know that,” he ended, a solemn note in his voice. “Have you been enjoying it out here?”

She mirrored his shrug. “It’s fine, I suppose. I like the weather, if that counts.”

“Nothing else?”

With most people she’d probably just lie and say she loved it, but with Harry she had a bad habit of always being blunt. “The traffic here is worse than what they warn you about, and honestly, it’s hard to make friends when it seems like everyone just wants to use you for your fame- or for the more famous people that you know.”

“Well, if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you'll always know me.” Harry offered her a sad smile. “I’m always a call- or a FaceTime- away. Not that a tiny screen is my ideal way of seeing you, but better than nothing.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond right away, as she could feel her whole body burning up and her throat closing. There was so much in the air between them. But the barista called out a cold brew, and at the same time they both said, “oh, that’s me,” then looked at each other and laughed. The first one had Ginny’s name on it, the one that followed five seconds later had Harry’s.

They walked away from the coffee pick-up area together, and Harry checked his watch. “Well, we have to board soon. I’m sorry this is the only way we got to see each other.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” Ginny told him in response. She originally didn’t plan on reaching out to him when she got back home, because she knew her brother and Harry’s best friend Ron would just tell him, and if he wanted to see her he could make that decision for himself. But suddenly this became information that she couldn’t hold in.

“Oh,” responded Harry, running his free hand through his hair. Her heart fluttered at that motion, as she knew what it meant- that he was nervous in a good way. “Well, that’s great! Let me know when you plan on getting in, I’d love to catch up, properly.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, the sincerity spilling out against her will. She never could truly play it cool with him, not even when they were kids. She hugged him again, smelling home lingering on his sweater. “I will. Have a safe flight, Harry.”

His grip on her was tighter this time, even with coffee in hand, than the last. “You too,” he replied. And then stiffened and let go. “I mean, you already had your flight, so that made no sense. Have a safe...cab ride home, I suppose?”

Ginny laughed at his stumbling. “I’ll do my best.”

He smiled, raising a hand in a small wave as he walked back towards his students. “See you later, Gin.”

She returned the smile and watched him reach his students. She noticed one of them looking at her as if they recognized her. She saw him nudge Harry with his elbow before she turned around and began walking to find her cab driver. As she continued to stride forward she faintly heard him ask, “Mr. Potter, was that just… Ginny Weasley? Do you know her?”

***

It was her fault for thinking her brothers would give her some indication that Harry would be there. They knew she still had feelings for him, no matter how much she denied it and how many times she tried to move on, and yet they couldn’t even give her a heads up.

When Fred and George saw her exasperated expression, they rolled their eyes in unison as Fred put his arm around her. “Are you reverting back to your 11-year-old self, little sis?”

“Fuck off,” she said, shrugging out of her brother’s embrace. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I thought you were bold, or whatever,” said George. “Wasn’t that one of the three qualities you used to describe yourself in People Magazine?”

Harry began walking over to them. She mentally prepared herself as he hugged Fred and George and congratulated them on the joke shop’s expansion. As he turned his attention to Ginny, the twins quickly left to talk to other guests. He didn’t smile.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Hi,” he replied, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink. “Ron told me you landed three days ago.”

She gulped, feeling his hurt absorb her. “Well, I just got settled in and recharged, you know. I- I was going to text you.” Which was true; she did intend on keeping her promise to Harry at the airport, but didn’t know when the appropriate time would be- how do you know the right time to text your ex and first love to casually catch up?

He hummed, taking a sip of his beer. She absolutely despised cold Harry, she could feel it emanating off of him. “It’s fine,” he said, ostensibly lying. “I was catching up with some other people from school anyway. Remember Cho?”

Oh, he was cruel, bringing up his ex like that. “Obviously,” she almost spat. As if she could forget.

“Saw her and Neville, Hannah and Luna the other day.”

She had half a mind to mention Dean Thomas, her boyfriend right before Harry in her sophomore year, reaching out to her asking to go for a drink, but couldn’t find it in her to do it, so instead she just mirrored his cool and pretend unbothered tone. “I don’t remember asking, but thanks for the information.”

Harry’s frown became more clearly defined. “Fine, sorry to bother you.”

She felt a chill as he walked away from her, a familiar ache pooling in her abdomen. They were fighting like they were teenagers rather than grown adults. It was unlike him to start it- it was usually her- but she couldn’t really blame him, though. She knew at the end of the day that she was the main culprit, that she made him ache the way she did because she didn’t know how else to hold it on her own.

She watched him return to her brother Ron’s side and take another large sip of his beer. Ron’s wife and one of both Ginny’s and Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger, gave Harry an appraising look and then walked over to Ginny. Hermione gave her a short hug and then said, “Alright, which one of you said something stupid this time?”

Ginny scoffed, pulling away from her friend. “Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

“I saw you yesterday. So which one of you started it?”

“Obviously he did! He had the audacity to mention hanging out with Cho Chang to me.”

Hermione gave a look of utter exasperation. “That’s a new low for him.”

“I know!”

“But I’m assuming you replied with equal spite?”

She sputtered, crossing her arms. “Maybe so.”

“Well, you should have texted him, Ginny.”

“He should’ve texted me! ” she whispered sharply.

“But you told him at the airport-”

“No, I know that, but- I mean, he should have texted me after…” she trailed off, feeling ashamed of herself for being this upset. “After your wedding last year.”

“You mean after you two slept together again after my wedding last year.”

“Well, yeah. Once I got back to L.A. at least. But nothing.”

“You could’ve texted him then, as well.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway? I know Harry’s been your best friend forever and everything but I’m your sister-in-law! Doesn’t family by marriage mean anything to you?”

Hermione shook her head and rubbed her temples. “You two really need to sort out your issues on your own. But if it helps to know, he wasn’t really ‘hanging out’ with Cho. We were out with him and the others as well, Cho wasn’t in our group, she just happened to walk in with Michael Corner and they stopped by our table and said hi for a quick minute.”

“She’s dating Michael? My ex-boyfriend Michael?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ll be engaged any day now,” Hermione informed her.

“That lying piece of-”

“You’re both to blame here,” Hermione declared, using her I’m Putting My Foot Down voice. “Just act like adults for once and sort it out. Properly.”

Guilt enveloped her throughout the rest of the night and she hated how such a small exchange could do this to her, as she had to act like everything was okay, be happy for her brothers and talk about her life in L.A. and as a famous soccer player and sell the life she was living as one she was satisfied to have.

By the end of the evening, before he could leave, she found Harry by himself sitting and reading something intently on his phone. She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”

He looked up for a second, shook his head, and continued staring at his phone. She eased up just a tad, as she could tell his silence wasn’t his I’m Ignoring You silence, but rather his I’m Deep In Thought and Concentration silence. “Everything okay?” She asked, and when he glanced her way she gestured to his phone.

He gave a half-laugh, half sigh, looking back at his screen. “Yeah, it’s just some of these parents have no boundaries… emailing me during the holidays- on a Friday night no less. I’m just reading through them to decide if any of them are worth responding to outside of my automatic away signature.”

“Is this for the football team kids, or your English Literature students?”

“My Lit students, but there is some overlap. I have this one student, Danny, who’s a really great kid, and his parents are real dickheads, and they’re mad that he got a B+ instead of an A, despite me telling them last quarter that a B is a great grade, and Danny’s already self-conscious as it is and could use encouragement rather than nitpicking over bullshit-“

He caught sight of her face and quickly cut himself off, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She realized she was smiling- it was always nice to see Harry talk passionately about something- and quickly adjusted her facial features. He cleared his throat and closed his phone. “They can probably wait until after the holidays for me to repeat myself, I suppose.”

“I think that’s the right call,” she assured him.

He exhaled, running his hands through his hair and then over his face, trying to wipe off his exhaustion with it all. “Thanks.” He put his hands on his lap and looked at her fully, as he refused to do a couple of hours ago. “Ginny, I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” she interjected. “I told you I’d let you know when I’d be here and I didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I let my frustration get the better of me,” he said with a sigh. “Classic Harry for you.”

She laughed, folding her legs into a pretzel in her seat. “Can’t blame you, really, as I’d probably behave the same.” She let out a breath and continued on. “Look, I did mean to text you and tell you I was back. I just… I don’t know, I was stupid, I thought it had to be the right timing, but I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

“What, were you waiting for a sign or something?” he asked. He was joking when he asked, but as he processed the look on her face he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Wow, Gin. You never stop amazing me.”

She blushed and laughed nervously, thinking of all the times in the past Harry had said something like that to her. She wanted to hear more of it, over and over, even when he’s saying it in jest. “That is what I do best.”

His features sharpened a bit and he leaned forward. “Well, how’s me asking to see you tomorrow for a sign?”

She put her hand on her chin and pretended to think about it. “A pretty good one, I’d say.”

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 8/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Hange hated it.

She hated it all – the today’s cold early morning, the yesterday’s long, sleepless night, the shitty, overpriced coffee from the airport cafe. She hated the weather that was too cold not to wear a coat and a scarf, but now made her sweat in all the layers of clothing. She hated the uncomfortable chair she was sitting at, hated waiting for so long just to see the needed flight appear on screen. She hated her new case and the sense of urgency it brought along. She hated that she had to work with him to find that missing young girl.

And more than all of that, she hated that sleazy bastard, that Ackerman.

She hated that morning in the hospital, when she found a note and recognized that it was written by the same hand that used to mock her every failure. Everything clicked right there and then, and Hange hated that she felt sad about it. Not angry, not betrayed, but sad. She was hurt, she was miserable, so much so that she actually shed a few tears, feeling like she lost someone she never actually had.

She should have known better, should have not let that happen. She shouldn’t have trusted him, not after just a couple of dates, after a few silly jokes and endearing gestures. But Ackerman, that damned thief, managed to sneak through all of her defenses, he made her think that there was something there, some connection between them. Perhaps, even something special.

Then everything turned out to be a lie, and it left her broken, wondering what she did wrong, when did she become so naive. She threw herself into her work, finding a short respite in it. For long two months that seemed more like a few days, she almost felt at piece, almost managed to convince herself – and everyone else – that she ceased thinking about Ackermans, their case and the man who might or might not even be called Levi. And now she had to work with him.

Hange hated her job sometimes.

She also hated her heart most of the time, especially right now, when it squeezed painfully at the sight of Ackerman’s dark, sullen and so unfairly handsome face.

Despite the large crowd and long corridor that separated them, their eyes still met each other.

Her treacherous heart skipped another beat.

Hange gripped the paper coffee cup as tight as it allowed, forcing herself to school her expression in something more appropriate – cold, detached. Not so heartbroken.

At least, Ackerman had the decency to look ashamed. He lowered his gaze as soon as he saw her, and it gave Hange the time to look over his entire form.

He changed. Ever so slightly, but still noticeable enough for Hange’s keen eyes.

He was more tanned now, not nearly as sickly pale as he was before. The circles under his eyes didn’t disappear though, and so didn’t his stiff posture. There was another change, however - a small cut on his left cheek. It sparked a quick flash of anger for the person responsible. Hange hated herself for that, too.

She shouldn’t care about that, shouldn’t wonder about the person who hurt Levi, shouldn’t wish to hurt them back. These feelings, they irritated Hange. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make them disappear.

“It’s just you here?” Ackerman approached her slowly, his hand gripping the strap of his travelling bag just as tightly as Hange held her coffee cup. She stood up too, straightening to her full height. Ackerman stopped, just a few steps away from her. “I thought you would bring the entire police department to arrest me.”

Hange scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not that important.”

And there was also that tiny little thing about her not actually having the power to arrest him. Technically, the Ackermans’ case was closed. Technically, Hange had no definitive piece of evidence that she could have used to lock him up.

Technically, Ackerman wasn’t even supposed to be here. And neither was she.

Back at the precinct, no one actually knew about that venture of hers. And they wouldn’t find out about it, not if Hange did everything right.

There were lots of reasons why Hange had to keep Ackerman’s involvement a secret. There was this thing about him being a notorious criminal who escaped justice, but more importantly, there was this little thing about her going on a date with the said criminal. Hange knew that Erwin knew about Levi and his true identity, he never told her that specifically, but when Hange demanded to take her off Ackerman’s case, he didn’t even bat an eye. He also didn’t ask a single question. The absence of his reaction made her wonder just how much he actually knew, and for how long he had that knowledge. Had he known since the beginning? Had he kept quiet just to see where it would lead? And whether she would realize the truth or not?

Hange didn’t have the guts to ask Erwin about that directly, didn’t wish to open that can of worms right now, preferred that it would stay closed for good. They both ignored that mistake of hers, both didn’t dare to bring up Levi or her previous case. And Hange would have liked for it to stay this way forever.

But if Erwin found out that Hange made Ackerman come out of hiding, so he would help her to find the missing Krista Lenz, well… Erwin probably wouldn’t chew her head off, but he definitely would give her a strict, and extremely long verbal reprimanding.

And he would take her off the case, and that… well, Hange already had a case she failed at spectacularly, she didn’t wish for that to become a pattern.

She also wished to find Krista Lenz and save her from whatever peril she found herself in. Hange didn’t know her, had only seen the photos, but that bright smile and those kind blue eyes kept pushing her forward, gave her a reason to not just solve the case, but bring that girl home.

And if she had to work with the damned Ackerman to achieve it, so be it.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” she promptly turned away from him, starting a brisk pace and heading to the exit of the airport. She hoped the Ackerman would follow. He did, surprisingly obedient. “Let’s eat before we start.”

***

The diner was nice.

Small but cozy, the interior was made up entirely of combination of blue and white. The tables were clean and adorned with neat, soft tablecloth, the booth he was sitting at was spacious and comfortable, the food was delicious and tea was made just as he liked it, even the music didn’t bother him, a pleasant, quiet melody was playing, adding to the atmosphere.

The diner was nice. His company, however, was not. Levi never thought that someone could eat breakfast so angrily. But every time his and Hange’s gazes met, he was quick to look away, her icy cold stare practically boring into his soul.

Thankfully, while Hange was busy devouring her omelet, she didn’t glance at him even once. She had mentioned that she was starving, and, knowing her work etiquette and seeing that her cheekbones became slightly more pronounced, Levi was inclined to think that her backhanded remark wasn’t just a figure of speech.

Watching her eat made Levi wonder what would happen if he ordered her a desert. Would Hange punch him or simply annihilate him with her glare?

Honestly, Levi was surprised she hadn’t punched him the moment she had seen him in the airport. He was also immensely surprised that he was having breakfast in a diner and not on his way to the prison.

During the phone call, Hange said that she wasn’t going to arrest him, but still, he would have liked to ask more about it. However, breaching that subject with Hange looking so furious didn’t seem like a great idea. He was walking on a thin ice as it was.

But even so, the tense silence was swiftly becoming unbearable, and Levi raked his brain for a topic of conversation, something safe and unassuming, the kind of talk that wouldn’t earn him a kick to his face.

“So how did you find me?”

Not the best way to start, Levi realized that as soon as the question tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed, thinking if he should just take his words back. But it was already too late.

Hange put the fork down and looked at him. With her eyebrows furrowed like that, she looked too much like her Captain, that annoying Erwin Smith. She wasn’t nearly as annoying, though. And, in Levi’s humble opinion, she was much handsomer than her mentor.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Hange said, as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. Some gravy remained at the side of her lips, but Levi wasn’t sure if he should point that out. He would have liked to wipe it out himself, he remembered doing exactly that during one of their dates, which felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. He would have liked to repeat that simple gesture. Then again, Hange probably wouldn’t have liked if he did that. “I guessed that you left the city on the night when…” something in her expression shifted, her face became less guarded. But Hange blinked and it was gone, the same stone mask returning. She cleared her throat and continued, “when we spoke for the last time. Since I knew when you left, it was only a matter of looking at the camera recording from the airport and finding which flight you took. Then I requested some security viewings from the city you were hiding at, and… here you are.”

Hange made it sound so simple, Levi almost believed that it actually was. Her exhausted face told another story, though. Levi could only imagine how long it took her to find him. She must be at her wit’s end, if she went through all of this just to get his help.

“What do you need me for then?”

Hange reached to her bag, opening and rummaging through it. When she was finished, she took out the case file and handed it to him.

“This is Krista Lenz, a college student who had disappeared a week ago,” Levi opened the case file, young blonde girl with impossibly bright eyes stared at him from the first page. “Do you recognize her?”

Levi looked at the photo for another second, just to be sure. But the girl on the photo stirred nothing in him. No vague memory, no sort of recollection. The name didn’t sound familiar, and if he had ever met the girl, it could only be in passing, as both of them, perhaps, walked beside each other on the same sidewalk. But that was the extent of it. Whoever this girl was, Levi did not know her.

He said the very thing to Hange, as he closed and pushed the case file back to her.

Hange pushed it back to him. “Well, too bad that you don’t know her. Because your uncle is the one who kidnapped her.”

Levi was very grateful for his extreme talent at keeping his face straight, because mentally his jaw was somewhere near the fucking floor. Externally, however, he didn’t let a single muscle on his face twitch.

With more self-restraint that he thought was capable of, he lifted an eyebrow, and asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve heard me,” Hange opened the case file for him and flicked through a couple of pages. “We searched Krista’s room and found a few letters, written by some Kenny the Reaper. Sounds familiar to you?”

More familiar than Hange thought. Of course, Levi knew Kenny the Reaper, back when he was a brat, his uncle used to tell tales of the Reaper, scary, blood-curling stories about the tall man in a long dusty black coat, who lived across the tracks. Kenny said the man’s hands were constantly covered in red and he always smelled of metal and copper. Kenny said the Reaper would come and take him, if Levi continued acting like a pathetic, whiny brat. Stories about the Reaper used to terrify the shit out of him, especially during the nights, when Kenny turned off the lights and storm was raging outside.

After his mother died, and Levi was spending his days in bed, crying himself to sleep, the stories about Kenny the Reaper reached their peak.

Kenny the Reaper would whisk you away at night if you don’t eat the soup, Kenny the Reaper would stand above your bed during the night if you don’t go to sleep, Kenny the Reaper would bath you in your own blood, if you don’t change your dirty clothes, Kenny the Reaper would come and eat your heart in front of you, if you don’t stop crying.

During those horrible, grief-filled days, only the fear of Kenny the Reaper was able to stop Levi from wallowing in his own misery.

Kenny wasn’t the best parent, wasn’t truly made for it, but, surprisingly, some of his methods, as cruel as they were, actually worked on Levi.

But he stopped with the silly stories once Levi became a teenager and they ceased having an effect on him.

Then why did Kenny the Reaper return? Why did he write letters to a young girl, who had disappeared? Could it really be that his uncle was the culprit?

Levi looked down at the case file, where a picture of the Reaper’s note was attached. All doubts disappeared from his mind. It was Kenny’s handwriting, the same messy, barely incomprehensible scribblings. But how did they appear inside the missing girl’s room? And why did Kenny write them in the first place?

He looked at note more closely, squinting to read it.

I have something you might want to look at it, little Missy. Come to the tracks tonight, or Kenny the Ripper will take you away by force.

Levi stared at the note for another moment, struggling to comprehend. It looked like… utter gibberish.

“So?” Hange lifted the cup to her lips, watching him over its rim. “Was my hunch correct? Is it really your uncle’s doing?”

It was just a hunch, but Hange had him located and brought back into the city simply to check if she was right? Either she was that confident in her theory, or… she was that desperate.

“It’s his handwriting,” he told her. “This note was definitely written by him.”

But did Kenny kidnap some girl? Levi didn’t know if that was possible. Why would his uncle even do that? What shitty trouble was he involved in this time? What was going on in the city during the two months that he was away? What Kenny was up to during that time? What was he up to right now?

It seemed like Levi certainly had missed a lot. He had to catch up to it all, and quickly. Perhaps, Hange would be able to help him.

“I don’t think Kenny had taken that girl,” Levi wasn’t sure if his uncle was even capable of that. Sure, he did some nasty things, but always for a reason. And what possible reason could he have to kidnap a young girl? “Did you receive a ransom after her disappearance?”

“No. There is utter silence after Krista went missing. I thought about your uncle only because I’ve remembered you mentioning that his name was Kenny. Decided this theory was worth pursuing.”

Levi didn’t even know he said it, but Hange remembered it? This small detail probably shouldn’t have made him feel so warm inside.

She’s a detective, it’s her job to pick up and remember stuff, he told himself. His heart refused to listen.

“I’m willing to help you find him,” he said to Hange, shaking his head to get rid of useless thoughts. He had a more pressing matter right now. For example, why the fuck his uncle decided to kidnap someone. Finding an answer to this question was his priority. Levi just had to remember that.

“Oh,” Hange waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t really have a choice in that. I need you to help me, Ackerman. And since your apartment was abandoned a little over a week ago, just as Krista went missing, I think it’s a good place to start our investigation.”

Hange knew where his apartment was located? This was hardly surprising, considering that she managed to find him in another city, but still… Her detective skills were brilliant.

Hange waved over the waitress, asking for a bill. As soon as she paid, she stood up. Levi quickly followed her suit.

“My apartment is on the other side of town,” he began, as he fell into step with Hange. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to escape?”

“Want me to handcuff you, Ackerman? Didn’t know you were so kinky,” surprisingly, Hange grinned. But the merry expression didn’t stay for long. The serious detective face returned almost immediately. “If you really think about escaping, my advice to you – don’t. I found you in another city on the other side of the world. How long do you think it would take me to find you here?”

Well, point was certainly taken. No more jokes and attempts at flirting. Hange was definitely not in the mood for this. Levi would have liked to blame it on her case, but he wasn’t that naïve and he was never that good at fooling himself. Hange hated him now, and there was nothing surprising about it. He knew it was going to come to this. He thought he was prepared.

But the bitter taste in his mouth, the giant, crushing weight in his chest – that he wasn’t ready for.

“It’ll be easier to get to my apartment by the subway,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

He wanted Hange to throw some stupid joke or a lame one-liner, say at least something. Instead, she followed after him without a single word.

Levi's disappointment was unmeasurable.

***

Hange didn’t know how exactly she pictured the apartment of two notorious thieves to look like, but she certainly didn’t expect the Ackermans’ den to look so… normal.

No secret traps, no hidden treasures, no weaponry hanging on the wall, there was nothing that could even hint at the possibility that the two men that were living there were criminals.

The apartment was relatively small, with only two bedrooms and a kitchen. It also wasn’t as spartan as Hange would have imagined it to be. There were pictures – but not photos – hanging on the walls, house plants that stood on windowsills, a bookshelf filled with books, curtains that fluttered from the wind coming from the open windows.

All of it was so mundane and cozy… Hange didn’t quite know what to make of it.

However, she had to admit, she was not only surprised, but a little disappointed too. She didn’t know what to expect from Ackermans’ apartment, but she had her ideas of what Levi’s apartment would look like. She pictured a neat, pristine place with spotless floors and shining cutlery.

But in reality, the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, the kitchen was filled with empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer, clothes were lying in the piles on the floor, dust was flying in the air.

Did the great clean freak Levi really live there? Or was that side of Levi’s persona just another lie?

“Fucking Kenny,” Ackerman mumbled under his breath, his scowl as fierce as ever. “I was gone for two months and he already turned into a pig.”

Oh. So that wasn’t part of an act? Hange was actually relieved to hear it. Enough to chuckle and say, “The obsession with cleanliness doesn’t run in the family?”

Ackerman turned from glaring at the dark stain on the kitchen table to look at her. His mouth twitched, as their eyes met. “Kenny is just a horrible exception.”

And there it was. For no longer than a single moment, but something had ignited, some sort of connection, recognition deep within her, the feeling of belonging. It was the same feeling she had whenever she was with Levi before.

But it wasn’t Levi, she reminded herself strictly. It wasn’t Levi, the awkward, endearing man she stumbled upon one evening. It was Ackerman, a thief who consciously played with her feelings, who lied to her and fooled her into believing he was someone else.

But Hange knew who he was now. She wouldn’t let him fool her anymore.

She looked away from him, her expression turning sourer. Possibly sensing her foul mood, Ackerman turned away too, his frown deepening.

“What exactly you expect to find here?” he asked. “I thought you guys had already searched our house.”

“No. I didn’t want to bother with getting a search warrant.”

She didn’t want to, and she couldn’t. If she came to Erwin, asking for a search warrant for the Ackermans’ apartment, because she suspected that one of Ackermans was involved in her new case, Erwin would call off the case right that instant. He’d say that she was too emotionally compromised, that she couldn’t think straight and had an unhealthy obsession with Ackermans’ case.

Erwin wouldn’t have listened to her theory, wouldn’t have let her continue working. And Hange couldn’t let go of this case, couldn't allow someone from Nile’s team to start searching for the missing Krista Lenz. After all, there was a reason why Erwin gave that case specifically to her. She was driven, endlessly dedicated to her work, Erwin knew she wouldn’t stop before Krista Lenz was found and safely returned to her old life.

And Hange couldn’t let Krista’s safety be compromised, because of some search warrant she didn’t even need. She came here with the owner of the apartment, right? Technically, she got inside without breaking any laws. Except she was working with a criminal, but then again, no one could prove that Ackerman was a criminal. Hange would have to work on that after she brought Krista home.

“So what is it that you hope to find here?” Ackerman repeated his question. “I doubt your missing girl is hidden inside my closet.”

Hange rolled her eyes at the obvious sarcasm. Ackerman didn’t believe her, but she didn’t really need him to. He could believe that his uncle was innocent, that it was some big misunderstanding or whatever lie he created for himself. She didn’t need Ackerman to share her suspicions, she just needed him to help her find Kenny Ackerman.

That was the primary and only reason for his involvement.

“Let’s start with his room then,” Hange said. “Even if Krista isn’t there, perhaps, we’ll be able to find something of use anyway.”

“Well, you’re the boss here,” Ackerman scoffed.

With hands shoved deep into his pockets, Ackerman led her out of the kitchen and into a short hallway. As they walked, they passed a room that had a slightly ajar door. Curious, Hange popped her head inside. In contrast to the rest of the house, that room was tidy. It didn’t take a detective to realize that it was Levi’s room. On a wardrobe beside the bed, there was a blue shirt hanging. Hange recognize it as the same shirt Levi wore to their so-called first date. The shirt was nice, she remembered thinking that it brought Levi’s eyes.

Hange wanted to rip it into pieces.

She kicked the door closed with her foot, ignoring Ackerman’s wide-eyed stare. “Let’s just get it over with,” she grumbled, beyond frustrated.

Thankfully, Ackerman didn’t comment and silently led her to his uncle’s room.

Inside, it was even messier than in the rest of the apartment. Papers were scattered around, empty glasses and plates were littering the floor, the bed was unmade, the blanket and pillow missing from it. The state of the room was even worse than the mess inside Hange’s apartment, even during her bad days. It was dark too, the heavy brown curtains blocking the sunlight from outside entirely.

Honestly, it looked a little too creepy for Hange’s taste. Like the room of a madman. A madman who had kidnapped a young girl. A madman, who without hesitation had killed an innocent man and had almost killed her. Hange felt a shiver ran through her spine at that thought.

“Are you sure that your guys didn’t search the house?” Ackerman’s gruff voice brought her to the present.

“You think that someone broke in?”

“Possibly,” Ackerman nodded. “Either someone broke in, or Kenny just lost his mind.”

“And which one is more probable?”

Ackerman shrugged. “I’d say fifty-fifty.”

“Cool,” she rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming. “Amazing. Just awesome.” So she wasn’t only looking for a cruel criminal, but apparently he could be crazy as well. And she thought this case couldn’t get any worse. “Let’s start looking for clues then. Before your uncle arrives and decapitates me or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ackerman chided. “He won’t decapitate you. Just slash your throat.”

His dry delivery and his deadpan face made it hard for Hange to understand whether he was joking or not. She hoped he was. She liked her throat, and didn’t want it to be slashed.

“I’ll take the left part of the room,” she announced to Ackerman, immediately getting to work. The sooner they finish here, the lesser were chances of having her throat slashed. Probably.

As Hange kneeled on the floor, looking through papers scattered there, she couldn’t help but look around the room. And as she took a good look at it, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Why are you doing this?” she asked Ackerman.

He threw her a dark look. “By this you mean…”

“Why do you keep doing this?” she gestured around, “Stealing things, being criminals. You have enough as it is. Why not start doing honest work?”

“We’re stealing from rich assholes. You can hardly call it a crime.”

“Oh, I get it now,” Hange rolled her eyes. “Once a thief forever a thief, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Ackerman said curtly.

“And why not? Because I’m a cop?”

“Because you’re a cop, dressed in a coat that no cop should be able to afford.”

Affronted, Hange scowled at him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That you grew up rich. That you don’t know what poverty or need is. That you have no idea that sometimes,” his eyes flashed, a deep-seated anger coming to surface. Hange wondered if all of it was directed on her alone. “Honest work isn’t enough.”

Logically, Hange knew it was her cue to back away. But she was riled up already, she was exhausted and frustrated. She was also annoyed that Ackerman had figured her out so easily. So instead of shutting up like she should have to, she kept challenging him. “And when exactly honest work isn’t enough?”

“When your mother dies because you can’t pay her medical bills.”

Ackerman spoke quietly, calmly. His tone wasn’t angry or accusing. He didn’t even sound hurt. But Hange felt like the most disgusting piece of shit. Shame cursed through her, as she struggled to find her words, to apologize or— do something rathan than stare helplessly at him.

“Let’s get back to work,” he said, ending the heavy silence.

Hange nodded numbly, scooping a bunch of papers in her hands. She briefly glanced at them, but nothing seemed to hold any importance. There were some bills, checks, half-finished plans, written so messily Hange could barely decipher most of the words. There was nothing that could link Kenny Ackerman to the disappearance of Krista Lenz. Still, Hange persisted, forcing her thoughts to focus on the case, and not on the argument that had transpired moments ago.

It seemed stupid, ridiculous, she was so angry with Ackerman, but now she felt ashamed of her careless words. She was ashamed of being so naïve, so privileged. She knew she was lucky, luckier than most to be born in a wealthy family and have access to everything she needed or wanted. Not everyone was as fortunate as her, and some of people ended up just as Ackermans – driven to the life of crime by poverty and desperation. After all, most of the criminals didn’t choose this way of living, but Hange had forgotten about that. She let her single-minded determination cloud her perception and abandon her principals and initial reason for joining the force.

So fixed on catching criminals, she had forgotten that she wanted to help people, including those, who were lost or didn’t know better.

Hange felt the need to apologize to Ackerman. He was an asshole in his own right, but her cruelty and prejudice was uncalled for. She was better than this. At least, she hoped so.

So lost in her own thoughts, Hange missed the moment when Ackerman had moved from his kneeling position on the floor. Now he stood next to a long desk, gazing at it skeptically.

“If there is something worthy in this pile of shit, it’s gotta be here,” he explained to the confused Hange.

Still sitting on a floor, she watched how Ackerman opened the lowest drawer of the desk, throwing everything that was inside on the floor. More papers fell out. Once the drawer was empty, Ackerman pressed on something inside and revealed a hidden bottom drawer.

A secret compartment! Hange jumped to his side.

He was already shifting through the documents he found inside, his face as bored as ever. “Shit, I think there is nothing important her—”

“Wait!” Hange yelled, yanking a photo from between his fingers. Her eyes wide and mouth open, she stared at it. She knew that face, that face was staring accusingly at her for a whole week now, pushing Hange to find its owner. Linked to that photo was a birth certificate, and it bewildered Hange even more.

“What is it?” Ackerman rose on tiptoes, looking over her shoulder. “Did you find something?”

“I guess I did,” Hange slowly nodded, her eyes still glued to the photo and the document. “It appears we’ve been wrong. We aren’t looking for Krista Lenz. We’re searching for Historia.”

[wisteriashouse]

falling (ii). 

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: dark

word count: 6184

remarks: this was so un-fluffy and its probably what i’ve struggled most with writing to date skdfgd as usual, please like, comment or reblog if you like it <3 

ii. into your trap

One mistake is all it would take for everything to come crashing down.

That’s what had happened to the man before you, the man whose blood you’d spent hours scrubbing out of the carpet until every bit of crimson had been washed away. Because of a single moment of greed, he’d stolen a coat off a customer who’d ended up as the demon’s next meal - and that very coat had been a dead giveaway to the demon slayer investigating the disappearance of his relative. You wouldn’t be like that, you remind yourself, a tray in your hands as you make your way down the corridors of the brothel. You would never let a moment of emotion cloud your judgement and cause you to slip up. You can’t afford to.

It's all just for survival. That’s the reason why you’re the only one still alive today.

The rest before you have all been devoured. 

Shifting your tray to one hand, you take a deep, slow exhale and smile, curving the corners of your mouth up at just the right angle. The mask you’ve perfected over years of deception falls seamlessly into place. You raise your hand to the door.

“Rengoku-san?” You knock, raising your voice to a bright and energetic timbre. “Are you still asleep? May I come in?”

Rengoku Kyoujurou. The man with burning conviction in his eyes. The demon slayer here to destroy the only life you know. The person who you have to kill with your own hands.

The demon you serve isn’t a fool, in fact, far from that - it is more than aware of the power and skill a person would have to possess to earn the title of a Pillar, and it knows that it has no chance of winning in a direct confrontation with him. That’s why the task has been relegated to you. Demon slayers might know breathing techniques that allow their physical prowess to surpass even demons, but that’s the very flaw with their training - that they’ve been taught to battle demons, and only demons. 

You, on the other hand, are very much human, with the ability to slip between the gaps in their guard, the chink in their armour - the kindest ones have always the easiest to fool, after all.

Which is why you’re taken by surprise when there’s no answer from within. Wary at the lack of response, you rap your knuckles against the door once again, more urgent this time. Worry gnaws at your insides - what if he’s somehow already discovered the truth of this place, and has decided to flee before you can accomplish your task? The thought of the consequences you’d have to bear turns your stomach, and your knocking turns slightly more urgent. “Rengoku-san? Rengoku-san, are you inside?” 

“Is there something you need from me?”

You whirl around in surprise at the voice, heart leaping into your mouth. Behind you, Kyoujurou stands in the hallway, bathed in the early morning light streaming in through the open windows. When your eyes meet his, he smiles at you in greeting, lips curving up naturally in a radiant grin. “It’s a beautiful morning today, so I went for a walk to watch the sunrise!”

“That sounds lovely.” You tell him with a smile of your own, relief seeping into your bones - he’s none the wiser than he was when he first stepped into the brothel, and you intend to keep it that way until you slit his throat. Holding up the tray in your hands, you’re quick to observe the way his eyes fall first on the plate of roasted sweet potatoes cubes - so you were right about the scent you picked up on him when he saved you from falling yesterday. “I was about to bring breakfast up to your room, but I didn’t think you would be awake this early. I’ll get up earlier next time so you can eat before you start your day. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know!”

“There’s no need to force yourself to wake up early for my sake!” Kyoujurou laughs, stepping over to slide open the door to his room for you. “Please, come in!”

The bedding has already been kept away in the oshiire, his few belongings neatly arranged on the low table in the corner of the room. When Kyoujurou moves to clear them so that you can put the tray down, you catch a glimpse of several sheets of paper with scribbles all over them, a stray black feather peeping out from under the corner of the tatami. 

Your eyes narrow at the sight. The kasugai crow might turn out to be a problem, almost as bad as having unintended witnesses, but you have plenty of ways to ensure its message never gets back to the demon slayer corps, just as you had done with the previous one. 

For now, the crow is the least of your worries - it’s nothing compared to the danger the man before you poses.

Completely oblivious to the thoughts running through your mind, Kyoujurou gestures at the table with a hand. “Feel free to put it down here!”

Your smile is painted back onto your face the very instant he glances at you, as easily as a brush dancing across paper. “Please excuse how simple it is. The potatoes aren’t cut very well, so they might not be evenly cooked.” You say, dropping your voice to a more shy, apologetic tone, just like how the entertainers from last night had tuned their instruments. “It was a little difficult to use a knife, so forgive me for that.”

Your words seem to jolt Kyoujurou into remembering the events from yesterday, and his eyes instantly dart down to inspect your hands as you set the tray down before him. They’re bandaged lightly with white gauze, something that you’d gotten up early to do this morning, and yet even with them on, making the potatoes convincingly uneven had still taken you multiple attempts. “Don’t worry about the potatoes. I’m sure they’ll taste wonderful, if your cooking last night was anything to go by! Do your hands still hurt?” Kyoujurou’s gaze is soft and filled with concern as he looks up at you, and you glance away with an appropriate degree of shyness in response. 

“The scalding was a little more severe than I expected, but that was my fault. You don’t have to worry about it!” You reassure him, and as expected, he only gets more concerned when you try to brush off his kindness. “It’s just a minor inconvenience, and the worst that’ll happen is Masako-san’s nagging.” You sigh wistfully, the words murmured softly under your breath. “Ahh… I wish we had more hands in the kitchen here. It would be a lot easier to handle the cooking.”

From the way Kyoujurou’s eyes glance up at you, he’s heard every word you said.

You’ve set your trap.

“Well, I suppose that’s just how it is! It’s totally alright, though, I’ll just make do with what I have!” You smile energetically at the man sitting before you, although from the troubled expression on his face, there’s still more that he wants to say. “What I am sorry about is that you might have to wait for a while to have the meal I promised to make for you. I want to be in a good condition when I cook for you, so that you eat only my best!” 

He seems taken aback by your enthusiasm for a moment, before his smile widens. “Take all the time you need!” Kyoujurou says kindly. “I’m sure that I can wait.”

From the way he beams at you, you’re confident that he knows nothing of your true intentions - relieved with how you’ve been doing so far, a silent sigh of relief leaves your mouth. Rising to your feet, you give him a small wave. “Well then, I’ll be going first. You can just leave the dishes here, I’ll come back for them later-”

“Have you eaten?” Kyoujurou asks.

The sudden question takes you by surprise. Preparing the sweet potatoes had taken longer than you’d thought it would, so you had quite forgotten about your own food in your rush to bring Kyoujurou’s food to his room. “Well, no, but I’m sure I can find something in the kitchen-”

“If you are available, then please eat with me!” He gestures opposite him at the table. You clutch the tray tightly in your hands while your mind races. Offering to let you sit with him at the table, to share his meal with you, does he perhaps suspect that you’ve tampered with his food?

Cold sweat prickles at the nape of your neck, but you fight to keep your voice light. “Oh? Did I make too much food for you to finish, Rengoku-san?” 

Rengoku Kyoujurou, the man who holds your very life in his hands, only smiles warmly in response to your question.

“Food always tastes better when shared!” He explains to you jovially. There is no sign of any hidden intention or agenda in his gaze, his eyes clear and honest. His smile turns a hint amused as he regards you. “And was it not you who said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day? You should take care of yourself too!”

You take a seat in front of him, glad to have a reason to hide your shaky knees. Calm down, calm down, you repeat to yourself in an attempt to slow your racing heart. He hasn’t noticed a thing. Don’t panic and give yourself away. “I suppose I did,” you say, smiling at the man opposite you as you raise your chopsticks to take some natto for yourself. Kyoujurou grins and immediately reaches for the sweet potatoes, popping them into his mouth. This time, when he begins to exclaim ‘delicious!’ once more, you let yourself breathe, chewing slowly on the food in your mouth.

Everything, you think, as you watch Kyoujurou compliment your cooking with vigour, is going smoothly.

 On the second day, just as you’d planned, Kyoujurou joins you in the kitchen after breakfast.

At the sight of him grinning at you in the doorway, you feign pleasant surprise and gratitude by clasping your bandaged hands over your mouth, eagerly welcoming him into your kitchen. Behind you, the door to the meat storage is locked tight with a padlock, hidden from view with several crates of spices to mask the smell. 

He doesn’t have a clue that his fellow slayer’s head sat on your kitchen table last night.

By your estimates, you have roughly a week to kill Rengoku Kyoujurou, probably less. You’ve stayed up for the entirety of last night after your meeting with it, wracking your mind for reasons and excuses to get him to stay - but regardless of how many lies you might be able to manipulate him into believing, he will eventually figure out that Yugou Fukuzashi isn’t coming back, and when he does, you know his suspicion of this place will increase hundredfold.

That would make your job a whole lot harder, so with the deadline of a week hanging over your head, you set the first part of your plan to lower his guard around you into motion.

While you’ve heard of the near supernatural strength of the demon slayers, you’ve never actually met one in person aside from Yugou Fukuzashi (who by the time of your encounter had already been dying from blunt force to the head, courtesy of the man whose mistake had gotten you into this mess in the first place). However, you have no doubt that any of them, much less Kyoujurou, would be able to overpower you with ease. All you have on your side is your identity as a human and your cunning.

You’ll just have to make the best of what you have.

Hence, you think it’s more prudent to take things slow - like a spider approaching the prey wandering onto its web, you cannot allow yourself to move recklessly, or you’ll get caught in your own threads and fall to a demise of your own creation.

Kyoujurou fumbles with the knife at first, when you set him to work scraping the scales off some tuna, and part of you almost hesitates if you’ve gotten the wrong man - surely no Pillar trained in swordsmanship would be so awkward holding a blade. Still, you correct and guide him patiently, and he progresses under your tutelage faster than you expect. With his help, you finish lunch preparations slightly earlier than you expected to, leaving both of you with a small window of free time to sit down for a bit of a break.

“You learn fast, Rengoku-san.” You comment brightly as he sits at your kitchen table, his fingers drumming idly next to a dark stain in the tabletop. At your compliment, he pauses to grin, clearly pleased.

“Well, I had a good teacher.” He says and you laugh, picking up the knife you’d be using to put it aside. On the surface of the cold steel, the reflection of your smile is twisted, distorted. Casually, you lean forward. “Well then, how about letting your teacher give you a little test?”

Kyoujurou blinks, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Sure!” He agrees, amicably. “What test would you have me participate in?”

You rise to your feet. “Close your eyes, it’s a surprise.” You urge. For a moment, Kyoujurou holds your gaze, before his eyes slip shut slowly, his breathing slow and even. “Yes?”

Your hand drifts along the shelves, your fingers coming to rest against the lid of a tightly sealed jar, tucked out of sight in a corner. There’s no label on it, but you’re more than familiar with the substance that lies inside. You’ve used it plenty of times now, after all.

Cyanide.

Should you try it now? With Total Concentration Breathing, a demon slayer should be able to slow the spread of poison by slowing their circulation, but you have no idea how effective it will be on a man of Kyoujurou’s caliber. Chewing on your bottom lip, you hesitate, torn between wanting to get your job done as fast as possible and worrying that you might fail.

If you do fail, you’ll be as good as dead. He wouldn’t even need his sword, with the strength in his arms alone, he could probably tear your head clean off your shoulders.

The thought makes cold sweat slide down the back of your neck.

“Are you going to make me taste test something?” Kyoujurou asks curiously, and your hand jerks off the jar in an instant, so quickly you almost knock the bowl adjacent to it onto the ground. “Should I continue to keep my eyes closed?”

“Of course! Patience, Rengoku-san.” You say, trying to hide the tremble of your hands, even though you can see his eyes are still firmly shut. The demon had warned you about the demon slayers’ strong survival instinct, but this should be just coincidence… mere coincidence, that must be it. Still, because you’re wary now, you turn away from the jar on your shelf. Not now.

 Reaching for the fruit basket instead, your shaking fingers close around a fruit and you turn back to hold it to Kyoujurou’s nose. A guileless smile still sits on his lips, as if he has no idea about the internal turmoil churning deep in you at the very moment. You take a deep breath and swallow, eyes fixed intently on his face.

“Guess what this is.” Kyoujurou’s nose twitches slightly for a moment, brows furrowing as he attempts to place the scent. Barely a second later, a triumphant grin passes his lips and he states his answer with full confidence. “Peach.”

“Wow, you’re good at this.” You say, exchanging the peach in your hands for something else. Kyoujurou beams excitedly at the praise. “Here, what about this?”

“Sweet potato!”

“Right again. What about this one?”

You hold up a mushroom under his nose, and instantly you see his lips pull into a frown. “It… doesn’t smell good. I seem to remember Kochou telling me something about this scent before…”

All of the hairs at the nape of your neck prick at once and you press your lips, trying your best to subdue the feeling of terror churning in the pit of your belly. “Of course it doesn’t.” You say, forcing your voice to take on a light, innocent tone. “Open your eyes.”

Kyoujurou opens his eyes slowly, staring down curiously at the mushroom you have in your hands before his eyes widen in shock. “[name], put that down, that’s poisonous!”

You lick your lips, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Of course it’s poisonous.” You hum lightly, waving the mushroom at him. “The first rule of cooking that my student should learn is to never eat things you don’t recognise, especially when it comes to mushrooms and berries. This is the death cap, probably one of the most poisonous mushrooms in the country! I’m surprised you could recognise it by its scent.”

He nods, listening intently. “Most people wouldn’t, but I have a… friend who is a pharmaceuticals expert! She deals with all manner of poisons and their cures, so I have some knowledge about them.” He tells you, and you have to contain your sigh of frustration. This new tidbit of information makes your job a whole lot harder.

“You have a lot of… interesting friends.” You make sure he sees you toss it into the bin before he can ask you what lethally poisonous mushrooms are doing in your kitchen.

Kyoujurou only grins. “They’re all very honourable people! I am blessed to have met each and every one of them!” His smile widens as he looks at you. “It is my fortune to have met someone like you here as well!”

You stare at him in the middle of taking a seat opposite him, taken completely off guard for a moment. “What?”

“When I first got here, looking for my friend, I was actually rather concerned about him! He’s investigating something dangerous, you see, so I was sent to provide him with some support.” Kyoujurou explains, and your hands fist the cloth of your hakama under the table. “Since there is nothing for me to do but wait, I thought that I might spend the next few days in worry! However, cooking with you makes time fly by, so thank you for that!”

You bite your lip at his words, before you smile at him, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that has suddenly lodged itself in the back of your throat.

“It’s my pleasure, Rengoku-san.”

That night, after Kyoujurou has long gone to bed, you stand over the table the two of you had sat at together this morning, knife in hand as you slice carefully at the fish on your cutting board. The fugu meat falls away in clean chunks, but the meat isn’t what you’re after - reaching inside, you pull out its inner organs with a pair of tweezers, putting them in a bowl next to you, careful not to get any on your gloves.

It takes much longer than cyanide to extract, but it’s over a thousand times more potent. Only twenty five milligrams of it is needed to kill an adult man, according to your experience. The victim first experiences paralysis of the muscles, before the poison moves to the diaphragm and the muscles of that move the ribs, ultimately leading to failure of the lungs. The victim then dies from asphyxiation.

Without his lungs, all his Total Concentration Breathing will be rendered useless.

Tetrodotoxin is a water soluble toxin, it is odourless and tasteless, and most importantly, there is no known antidote to it.

You set down the knife. One of the eyeballs you’d removed stares at you from the bowl, accusation in its shiny, bloody depths, but you swallow and pick up the bowl anyway, moving towards the distiller to extract what you need from its contents.

“It’s nothing personal, Rengoku-san.” You mutter to yourself.

It’s just a matter of survival here, after all.

On the second day, the robbery happens.

Or rather, well, it attempts to happen.

You had planned to collect some ingredients from your usual vendor outside the gate, dropping slight hints to Kyoujurou here and there when he’d been helping you with dinner preparation the day before. The moment you stepped out of the back door of the brothel, you had found Kyoujurou already waiting there with his usual bright grin, the early rays of the breaking dawn setting him alight in a blaze of red and gold.

This time, you could not bring yourself to feign surprise, instead smiling and telling him of your gratitude as the two of you began walking down the street. Due to the early hour, the red light district is oddly quiet, empty streets almost peaceful except for the occasional drunkard reeking of alcohol stumbling from one tavern to another.

The third time you see Kyoujurou wrinkle his nose at the smell, you turn to him, head tilted.

“Are you not fond of alcohol?”

He shakes his head, and out of the corner of your eye, you see that his usual smile has dimmed. “Alcohol muddles the mind and dulls the reflexes! It would compromise my capabilities.” Kyoujurou tells you, as the two of you walk side by side. You steer him into a narrow side alley, your shoulders brushing against each others. “I prefer not to drink unless the occasion calls for it, since I must always be at my peak physical condition at any given time.”

You let your mouth pull into a confused frown. “Why would you need to be-”

Something steps into the alley in front of you, blocking out the sunlight and casting long shadows across the ground. You glance up to see two ruffians standing in your path, leering grins on their faces. Your footsteps falter, before coming to a stop completely. Next to you, Kyoujurou does the same.

“Oi.” One of the men call, his sneer only growing. “Pay up! Don’t you know that you’re stepping on our territory?”

Kyoujurou frowns at their words, turning to whisper into your ear. “Are we intruding on their territory?” He asks, and you shake your head, stepping forward to confront them.

“This is a back alley behind Momoshizu.” You say, your voice level as you point at the brothel right next to them. “Unless you’re a dog guarding the back entrance to a brothel or a stray cat chasing rats for a living, you don’t have territory here. If you want to extort money from someone, do it outside the walls of the pleasure district.” Your eyes narrow. “Penniless trash like you don’t belong here.”

“[name]!” Kyoujurou sounds aghast at your barbed words, but you lean back to whisper to him. “If you give in even a little, they’ll start harassing you for more. It’s better to turn them down from the start.”

“Yes, of course,” Kyoujurou says, brows furrowed in worry as he regards the two men before you, “but this could turn out dangerous, wouldn’t it be better to call the law enforcement instead?”

“Well, yes, if there was any law enforcement in the first place-”

A low chuckle interrupts the two of you, and you turn around to see one of the men pulling something from his pocket. Silver glints in the early morning light and you take a step back, eyes widening. “Rengoku-san, they have a knife!”

Kyoujurou’s face is impassive, and for a moment you wonder what he’s thinking about when he suddenly smiles again, his usual grin returning to his face as he rests a hand on your shoulder. Its weight and warmth brings with it a certain peace that leaves you stunned. “It’s alright, there’s no need to worry!” He booms, almost radiant in the shadowed alley. Gently, he nudges you behind him and steps forward protectively, shielding you completely from their sight with his large frame. “You have me! I promise I won’t let any harm come to you!”

Come with me, a soft, poisonous voice echoes from the edges of your memory. It’s a cold, frostbitten night, but the blood on your hands is so, so hot. I won’t let any harm come to you. Come with me, little human. I’ll fill your stomach and give you a place to sleep. You just want to live…

Don’t you?

Bile rises in your throat, but luckily for you, Kyoujurou isn’t looking at you, his eyes trained on the men before you instead, his back straight and head raised. Bitter resentment at the fates gnaws at you, your hands clenching tightly into fists.

On that cold night, why couldn’t you have met someone like Rengoku instead?

“Kindly move out of the way.” You hear Kyoujurou say. His hands remain calmly by his sides, neither in a defensive nor offensive stance. “The alley is not large enough for the two of us to pass at the same time.”

“Hah?” The ruffian holding the knife steps closer so that he’s in Kyoujurou’s face, their noses almost touching. Still, Kyoujurou does not make a move to remove the knife from him. “Do you need your ears cleaned, idiot? I said, this is our territory. You’re the one who needs to pay up, scum!”

“I repeat, please move aside, or I will have to use force.” In spite of the insults being thrown in his face, Kyoujurou’s tone is still firmly polite, but now his words are edged with steel. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Hurt us? You’re making me laugh here, man.” The ruffian spits in his face, pressing the point of his blade to Kyoujurou’s throat. 

“Rengoku-san!” You exclaim, in shock, yet Kyoujurou still doesn’t move, hands pressed solidly to his sides as he looks at the man in the eye, dead calm. 

“Get the other one, too. That fucking mouth needs some payback. If we sell her, we might be able to get some money out of that too.”

Your eyes widen. The man’s partner turns his gaze on you, and he grins, pulling out a knife as well. Biting on your lower lip, you take a step back.

“Rengoku-san?” You reach out to tug at his sleeve. “We should probably run-”

Your fingers close around empty air.

Hours later, you’ll sit in your room, playing back your memories of this moment and yet still have no idea what you’ve just witnessed. All you see if a blur of orange, and then suddenly the man who was holding his knife to Kyoujurou’s throat is flat on his back, hands empty of any weapons. You’ve barely begun to shift your gaze when you see that the second man has already met with much the same fate, and for a moment, you can only stand there and stare in horror when you realise just what you’ve been tasked with killing.

He’s a monster.

Kyoujurou stands over them, not a strand of hair disheveled or out of place, the rise and fall of his shoulders still even and calm - he doesn’t look like he’s moved an inch. 

You have to kill him? Someone like him? Impossible. Your hand clasps over your mouth to contain your voice before it can flee your throat, eyes wide. No, no, no. You’ll die if you try to take him on. But if you don’t, you’ll...

Rows of jagged teeth fill your vision, crimson blood splattering over the carpet, a looming grin on the walls-

“It’s alright now!” A gentle voice cuts through your panic, and you look up to see Kyoujurou standing over you. You didn’t even realise when your legs had lost their ability to keep you standing, your behind planted in the dirt and your knees weak. With a reassuring grin, he holds out his hand to you. “Come, stand!”

You stare at his outstretched hand for a moment before tentatively placing your own hand in his. He pulls you to your feet, his other hand supporting you gently. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” The words are wooden in your mouth. “You protected me, after all.”

Kyoujurou grins at you. “That’s good to know!” Turning back to the two men still groaning on the ground, Kyoujurou holds up the two knives. “I’ll be taking these now.” His voice is stern. “I don’t want to see the two of you threatening innocent people again. Understood?”

Nodding frantically, the two men pick themselves up and scramble away, almost falling over their own feet in their bid to escape. As he watches them go, Kyoujurou lets out a sigh and pockets the knives in his sleeves, shaking his head. “Truly terrible, that people would try to hurt others this way for their own benefit.”

You swallow at his comment.

“Unbelievable.” Compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you affix a smile onto your face once more. “Well, now I see what you mean by needing to stay at the peak of your physical abilities. You’re very strong!” You say, trying to lighten the mood. It works, because Kyoujurou lets out a laugh at your words, his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“I’m flattered!” He says cheerfully. “Now, shall we get going? There’s still lunch to prepare, after all!”

The sun is steadily climbing up the sky when you look up at it, and you yelp, tugging at his sleeve. “Oh no! Hurry, Rengoku-san! We’re late!”

The two of you run through the streets of the red light district together.

“You didn’t warn us about him!”

You hold your breath at the sound of the door being thrown wide open, exhaling in an attempt to stay calm. Turning around, you pick up a ceramic jar of sake from next to you. “It’s a nice night out, isn’t it?” From the open window, you can see the full moon hanging in the sky outside.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense.” One of the two ruffians from this morning snarls. You pause in opening the jar to compose yourself, before you invite him into the room with a wave of your hand.  

“Sit down and we’ll talk.” You say, pouring out three cups of alcohol. Both of them glare at you from opposite the room before they stomp up to you, unceremoniously sitting themselves onto the ground and scowls still painted on their faces. “Here, have a drink. I make the alcohol at this brothel myself.”

They don’t touch their cups, eyes full of mistrust as they stare at you. With a sigh, you shake your head.

“I’ll take the first drink, then.”

They watch you warily as you pick up a cup on your own, taking a long sip to enjoy its taste before placing the cup back down on the table. So different from Kyoujurou, you wonder to yourself, remembering the time you’d offered him wagashi during your first meeting and he had downed all of them without a second thought. Now that you think about it, you probably should have struck at that very moment. Evil truly expects evil from others.

“I want out of this job.” The first man snaps the second you put down the cup, grabbing a cup of sake from the table and taking a gulp. His partner, in contrast, downs the entire cup in an instant. “And I want compensation.”

You pour both of them another cup. “I can agree with the first one.” You say, trying to keep your voice even. “Not with the second.”

“You didn’t tell us that your target was going to be a fuckin’ monster!”

The two of you eye each other for a moment, neither willing to budge. Behind him, his partner picks up his refilled cup and downs it once again

“You never asked.” You answer. Your voice only wavers once. “Furthermore, you didn’t even manage to kill him. The only thing the two of you were good for was your acting, and even then kabuki dancers would have done a better job.”

“What the fuck was the point of the entire staged robbery anyway?” He snaps, knocking back another cup of alcohol. “If you meant for us to kill him, you wouldn’t have…” 

The man’s eyes darken in realisation as he says it, his arm reaching across the table to grip at the collar of your clothes, yanking you forward hard so that the two of you are face to face. Your ribs knock painfully against the edge of the low table, but you don’t let your gaze leave his, forcing your expression to stay neutral.

“You were playing us the entire time.” His voice is a low, raspy snarl. “You knew we weren’t going to be able to kill him.”

You don’t reply, but your lack of denial is more than confirmation enough for him.

He hurls the cup at you. You barely manage to duck in time and it only clips your shoulder, its contents dripping all over the front of your kimono. The slight, bitter scent of almonds permeates the air. “I’m going to kill you.” He snarls, getting to his feet. Like this, he towers over you easily. “You’re going to regret messing with the wrong type of people, missy.” 

He shoves you hard and you go crashing to the ground painfully with a yelp, your head knocking against the corner of the table and you see stars flash before your eyes. Before you can regain your balance, he swings one leg over your hips, pinning you down to the ground and before pulling another knife from his sleeve - this time, a sharp, single edged blade that could easily slice your neck to ribbons.

He presses it against your throat, and you swallow, trying not to tremble and cut yourself on the edge of his blade. You don’t know how you’d explain such a wound to Kyoujurou tomorrow.

“Now,” his breath is rancid, his knee pressing painfully into your hip - you know bruises will form there tomorrow, “I’m going to show you what exactly happens when you waste our time like this, you fucking-”

“Fujita!” 

The grip on your robe loosens ever so slightly as the man whips around to glare at his partner. “I’m talking here, man, what the hell do you...” his partner is writhing on the tatami mats, clawing at his throat, desperate, breathless screams leaving his mouth. “Saburo! Saburo, what’s happening to you?”

You shove him off you with all your strength and he topples to the ground with a heavy thud. Shaking your head as you stagger to your feet, you wipe at the stain on your kimono before eyeing it with disappointment. “This is going to take ages for me to clean now.” You exhale as Saburo flails wildly, choking on air as he attempts to breathe. Fujita whirls around to stare at you. 

“What did you do?” He roars, but when he tries to stand, he staggers to the side, nearly falling before he manages to catch his balance. His eyes go wide, and he looks up at you in horror. 

“Poison in your cups, but not mine, of course. It would be a waste of alcohol to poison the entire jar.” You say wearily, picking up your own cup from the table and taking another sip. “Cyanide, if you want me to be specific.”

Fujita chokes, grasping desperately at his own throat, before he stumbles and falls onto his knees, eyes wide with terror. You watch as the knife falls from his hands and clatters onto the tabletop. Saburo is already still, aside from the occasional twitch. “The two of you made useful test dummies, I suppose. Well, I could pay the two of you for that… but you won’t have much need for money in a few moments, anyway.”

Still, Fujita tries to claw his way to the door, struggling to put one hand in front of the other as he fights to force air into his lungs. You watch him for a few moments and wonder if you should have used a higher dosage instead to finish him off more quickly. Picking up the jar of alcohol, you cross the room in three quick strides and bring it down on his head with all the force you can muster.

The heavy ceramic jar of alcohol shatters the second it connects with the back of his skull, and Fujita crumples to the ground one final time. For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, and when you look down at your hands, a shallow cut bleeds red over your palm before the blood falls to the tatami below in little, crimson drops.

Looking at the mess before you, you can only shake your head and sigh.

“It’s nothing personal.” You say, out loud. “You tried to kill me, after all.”

The corpses on the ground have no reply.

[danakin-skywalker]

ho ho ho !!!🎄

merry december 7th my dear! santa is back!

im glad your morning started off better AND i hope that the rest of the day went just as well <3 also thank you so much for wishing me a happy (jacob thomas) tuesday, you in fact were the first person to wish that for me today !!

following up from yesterday... honestly im starting to believe we may be the same person👀. i feel like a physical book can be so daunting and hard to find the time to read as you get older and life just gets in the way. AND i too have an older brother who shows affection through antagonization 🙃, so i completely understand where you are coming from. i also want to go ahead and say - i love hearing about peoples passions and what they really have to say. and i look forward to sending these messages and getting to read your response each day, so thank YOU!!

with tropes... absolutely yes. that anticipation you feel while waiting for the admission of feelings or for the knight to save the damsel is such a hook to keep reading and it gets me every time. youve already described it all perfectly and i completely agree with you! i also agree that lost boys is a fantastic marriage and an absolute masterpiece!! (also even the most fierce feminists deserve to feel vulnerable and want to be rescued sometimes... no one can rely on themselves 100% of the time <3 OR sometimes the damsels gotta use the knights willingness to save them in the ultimate girl-boss move to save time and effort)

NOWWWWW on todays slightly different questions....

1. surprise! you have just won an all inclusive, week long trip with your significant other danny - how exciting!! but wait... whats this? you have to plan it! where will you go for a week and what will you and danny do?!

2. what hobbies, or other joys, do you also like outside of writing(for pleasure)?

BONUS: what gift would you NOT want to receive from santa this christmas eve? what are your favorite gifts?

remember to gaslight, gate keep, & girl boss hard this christmas... and that santa loves u

🎅🏼

#26

ps. the north pole is a little hectic this week and santa is very very very sorry for later messages ❣️

Santa hiiiiii no worries at all about the late messages it’s a super busy time of year (especially if you might be a student in finals time in which case lord help u I don’t miss that lol). I’ve been kinda liking waking up and running to my ask box and looking at your questions- it’s just a nice thing to wake up to. Regardless, happy ✨Wagner Wednesday✨ time to answer your very appropriately timed question.

Okay so I feel like this answer is a little biased by the fact that we’ve reached the point in the year where I am just foaming at the mouth trying to get my skis on some snow, but I think if Danny knew how to ski/snowboard (which is entirely possible as a Michigan boy) we would be taking a trip to like Aspen or Colorado or Vermont or some nice ski resort where we could ski to and from our little cabins but also go down to the little ski lodge and drink at the little bar but also just go out skiing all day. Maybe there’s a hot tub too. Like even if he can’t ski I feel like I could get him down a hill after a few days. I think I would literally burst with affection if somebody took me on a ski trip. Especially as a romantic getaway. I just love the wintertime like I don’t know if I could justify balling out like that (or spending my winnings in this case) on like an exotic tropical resort or something. I don’t know why, I always saw those commercials and felt like “that would get so boring after like a day.”

So outside of writing, I really enjoy cooking and baking. This has been an important element in my family dynamic for as long as I can remember. My mom was always encouraging us to come in and help or at least watch in the kitchen when we were really little. She would always very proudly say that when I was little and asked for an easy-bake oven, she told me, “We have a real oven right there, what do you wanna make?” Honestly I don’t remember that and I feel like she just likes saying that, but around middle school my brother went through a massive Food Network phase. And I was young and impressionable enough to where whatever phase my brother was going through, I was as well. So we’d just sit in front of the TV watching Good Eats and Diners Drive-Ins and Dives and Barefoot Contessa and all those classics. We would come home from school and he’d be like “ok im making a lemon meringue pie today” and I’d be like ???????? It’s just a Tuesday??? But anyway, long story short, I’m a pretty good chef, my brother is an amazing chef, and whenever either of us are at my mom’s she doesn’t lift a finger in the kitchen because we are preparing any and all meals. It’s the least we can do- we’re sitting at home while she goes to work. But it really is something we both enjoy doing and now that we live really far apart and I only see him a few times a year, we still connect by sending eachother Snapchats of almost every finished recipe we cook.

Okay the bonus question is throwing me off. There are a million answers here. Honestly I’m just excited by the fact that it’s sounding like we’re gonna be great friends even after this, so really don’t worry to hard about the present. I’m literally the easiest person to please ever no matter what you do I will thank you graciously. There’s truly nothing you could give me that would be a disappointment. Whatever form of content creation you’re comfortable with I would be more than happy to receive.

Love u Santa I will continue to gaslight gatekeep girlboss today and I’ll do it with u in mind 🥰

[elvenstar146]

Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

Author’s note: I don’t own these characters but they are so much fun to write about.

Characters: Edward Elric, Winry Rockbell, Granny Pinako, Alphonse Elric

 Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

                 Winry and Edward were living in their new home that was built on the Elrics’ previous home. They had just celebrated their first wedding anniversary, and Winry was 5 months along with their first child. Edward would stay and write at their house while Winry went to work at her grandmother’s.

Winry walked with their puppy, Eva, to her grandmother’s home, and arrived to a quiet house that normally would smell of breakfast and smoke from a pipe. “Granny? Are you up yet?” She yelled upstairs. ‘Maybe she overslept.’ Winry walked up the stairs to her grandmother’s door. She knocked, and asked if she could come in. No response. “Granny, I’m coming in.” Winry walked into the room and saw her grandmother laying in bed. “Granny, it’s late. We have some orders to work on.” She walked to her bedside and noticed the stillness. “Granny, are you okay?” She shook her shoulders and noticed that the elderly woman was cold. “Granny….” Winry felt for a pulse on her neck, and couldn’t find one. She brought her hands to her face. “No…. You’re not supposed to go yet. Granny, you said you would help me.” The tears started falling. She sat on the bed, and cried. ‘How can I do this without you? We still need you.’ Winry thought to herself. Her dog put her head in lap to try to comfort her.

Winry collected herself, and made her way to the telephone. She dialed her house number, and waited for Edward to answer. “Hello?” he answered, sounding irritated. “Edward! I need you to come to Granny’s house now!” she yelled into the phone, and started crying again. “Winry! What’s wrong?” “It’s Granny. She’s gone.” “Gone, what do you mean gone? Did she go into town?” Then the realization hit him. Winry was crying too hard to answer. “Winry, I’ll be right there. I have to hang up now, okay?” “Ok.” She weakly replied. ‘Oh shit!’ he thought. ‘This was not a good time for this.’ He thought about his pregnant wife while he was running to the house.

He found her sitting next to the phone still. She looked up at him and started crying harder. Edward sat next to her on the couch, and let her cry into his chest. He still couldn’t believe it. Edward trusted her judgement but once she calmed down, he went upstairs to verify for himself. They made the appropriate phone calls to the doctor and undertaker to make arrangements. Next was making phone calls to family and friends. Edward did most of the phone calls so Winry could rest. It was really hard to her to tell people without bursting into tears. He called Alphonse knowing there was no way he would be back from Xing in time for a funeral but Al did promise to be there when the baby was born.

Later that evening, Edward and Winry went home to rest. It had a been a long emotional day for both of them. Winry just wanted to go to bed even though she wasn’t sure if she would sleep. There was a light knock on the door shortly after they got home. Edward answered the door, and it was one of their neighbors offering their condolences, and a pot of chicken noodle soup. Winry met them at the door, and thanked them for the soup. Their neighbor told them if they needed anything, to let them know. Edward brought the soup into their kitchen, and made them each a bowl. He sat them on the table. They sat at the table but Winry didn’t start eating. “I’m not really hungry.” She said with her eyes staring into her lap. Edward was worried. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He took her hand. “Winry, you need to eat something. It’s not just you that I’m worried about.” He put their hands on her pregnant belly to remind her that it needed nourishment. “Please.” Edward was practically begging her. She nodded in affirmation, and began to eat. It was the most quiet dinner they ever had together.

Three days later, Edward and Winry were getting ready for the funeral when another knock on the door was heard. They had a lot of visitors from town visit over the past few days so it was becoming normal to have people constantly visiting. Edward opened the door, and he was surprised. “General Mustang! What are you doing here?” He also saw Riza and Armstrong behind him. “We’re here to pay our condolences.” They were in black suits and Riza wore a dress. Winry came downstairs after putting in her pearl earrings that Edward had gotten her. She was surprised, and offered them to come inside. Riza and Winry hugged. “You didn’t have to come all this way.” “We wanted to. We know this is hard for you.”

At the funeral, Winry held on to Edward at his side. She was crying even though it felt like she couldn’t cry anymore. ‘This is harder than I thought it was going to be.’ Edward thought as he held his grieving wife. Even his eyes got glossy. Granny was the one that had taken them in when Trisha had died. She was a grandparent to him, too.

Everyone at the funeral went to Pinako’s house. So many clients had shown up, and their friends from Central had come down. Winry asked Riza “Where are you staying tonight?” “We were going to get a room at the Inn.” “Nonsense! Come stay with us tonight. We would love to have you, right Edward?” “Wait, seriously?” He looked into Winry’s eyes as she pleaded him with just a look. “Fine, they can stay.” He couldn’t say no to her today.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and Edward and Winry and their Central friends went to their home for night. And the next morning, Edward got up and made pancakes for their full house. He wanted Winry to sleep in because he knew she hadn’t slept well. He heard her get up in the middle of the night, and found her reading a novel. At least she was eating now even if she had to be reminded. Mustang found him cooking, and was amazed that Edward knew how to operate a stove. “Well of course I can cook. Sometimes, Winry gets breakfast in bed.” Riza elbowed Mustang. “I wish I got breakfast in bed.” Edward smirked because he had gotten Mustang in trouble with his new wife. Winry came downstairs, and was happy to have breakfast made for her. They all made light conversation, and the new baby was an easy topic. No one really wanted to talk about why they were here to visit. Yesterday was an emotional overload.

Their guests stayed a few days because it seemed to cheer Winry up to have them there. Once they were gone, Winry had to learn how to live without her grandmother’s constant companionship. Winry would want to tell Granny something but then remembered she was gone. She cried a little every now and then but it was getting better. But the hardest thing was she was so tired. She would take a nap every afternoon but wake up in the middle of the night, and stay awake for an hour. Edward got used to her leaving their bed and reading downstairs a little bit to distract her mind. Then she would come back when she got tired again. He didn’t know if this was the pregnancy or grief, or maybe a combination of both. He noticed that some days were easier than others but some were still difficult. He knew they would get through this. He helped more with the housework and cooking meals so Winry could rest more.

A few months later, Winry was eight months pregnant. She had gotten back to doing her usual work and housework though she was having to adjust to doing certain chores due to her size. She was still having trouble sleeping but she wasn’t nearly as tired during the day. She smiled more, and Edward noticed that she was feeling better.

Edward and her were waiting at the train station for Alphonse to arrive. Al got off the train and hugged Winry first. He looked at her very pregnant belly. “Wow, Winry! You look amazing!” “Aww thank you Al. I needed to hear that. I feel huge!” The brothers hugged and greeted each other.

“I want to go to see Granny now.” Alphonse told them. They all agreed to go together, and bought flowers while they were in town. They arrived to the cemetery, and saw their family’s graves. Al kneeled down and put flowers on Granny’s grave. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here but I’m here now.” Winry put her hand on his shoulder. “She would have understood. She was really proud of the work you’ve been doing.” Bringing a medical alchemy back to Amestris had been one of their goals, and Pinako had been hoping to use it with her patients’ recovery. Now Winry would be able to use it to help her patient’s pain levels.

About 6 weeks later, Winry had her baby. It was few days early but the boy was healthy. Once mother and baby were cleaned up, the brothers and Winry looked at the baby in awe. “Hey little guy.” Al said to the baby. “Don’t call him little! It might bother him.” Edward said to his brother. “Edward, he is little, and so cute.” Winry said as she looked at the baby. Edward was annoyed because he knew he had lost. He took a serious look, and told Winry “You know, she’d be really proud of you.” “Edward, don’t make me cry.” She hit him with her free arm. “I’m sorry but she really would.” “Yeah, Winry. She also knew the baby would be early because brother’s the father.” Winry smiled at that. “I’m not that impatient anymore!” Edward defended himself. “His patience has gotten better.” Winry said with a smile.

Edward saw Winry’s smile, and reflected on how much her smile had changed over the past few months. It didn’t have a hint of sadness in it. The dark cloud had lifted slowly. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. The wounds can leave a scar. They had gotten through a dark period of their lives, and now the sky was clear. Winry would be a little sad every so often but there were still smiles and laughter to be had. Her heart had grown more. She had become wiser, and learned to cherish more because she knew that these moments were precious.

 Author’s note: My mom passed away 3 years ago. I thought a grief story would suit well to the theme of ‘Mending’. There is hope for anyone grieving. There is also help. I had to get help through my grief, and I have no shame in saying that.

[leopardwrangling101]

Just this day.

This morning began at around 4 am. So did yesterday. Not on purpose. I did not wake up at around 4 am because I wanted to, yesterday I had even turned off my morning alarm.

But once the day started, there was no stopping it.

Or the leopards.

Really, the leopards have been engaging in their own variation of “here we go round the mulberry bush”

So, there’s been a little use of favorite leopard foods, nacho cheese Doritos are absolutely a breakfast food. There’s been an attempt to use silly music. But, it simply seems to push the leopards a little further away before they circle in a little closer.

And yet, I cannot take the day off and while there was little I needed or was required to do yesterday, it wasn’t all that restful, the leopards wanted that day.

So right now the only thing I know is that I just need to get through this day.

Tomorrow can be handled tomorrow, but today is what is important right now.

My actual work day starts in about half an hour, so I have a little time to organize it against the leopards.

One of the last gifts I was given by a dear friend who lost the battle against leopards was their organization of my closet - took every piece of clothing I owned at the time and combined them into outfits on individual hangers, I have tried to keep doing that and so as soon as I know what the weather is supposed to be like, I just grab the weather appropriate outfit from the closet and all is okay. That is probably another post that I need to write. I’ll put it on the list.

So, check the weather.

Grab a preset outfit.

Make a pot of tea.

Grab a shower.

Put the clothes on, hair brushed, etc.

Hour one is checked off. All that hour requires is those five things.

My schedule for the day includes my commute time, so the next hour needs to include my commute to work.

So, three this for the next hour

Pour tea into a travel mug

Pack lunch (because the leopards prevented getting it done yesterday afternoon or evening)

Drive to work

Then the work schedule starts to take over.

I have meetings later in the afternoon, so that is something I need to get to and through

So, first hours will be dictated by emails and my work calendar.

But when that gets overwhelming or leopards start interfering I have a few things I can do.

1) make more tea

2) doodle

3) breathe

4) take a short walk

I keep a few things in a drawer in my office that I know can sometimes improve my mood, small containers of bubbles, motivational stickers, individually wrapped chocolates, if necessary every hour I am in my office I can reward myself for making it through that hour or that meeting with a little something from this drawer.

When the meetings start , I know I have some responsibilities that must take place during the meetings. I know that for the most part I can focus on the meetings and their topics without too many leopards. But if need be, I have a few things I can do.

1) drink tea

2) ask questions that require answers from other people at the meeting

3) take notes (with doodles)

4) breathe

I have a moment for lunch. That time is mine. I will shut the door of my office, take a few deep breaths, eat my meal, maybe with my counter leopards play list playing in the background. Maybe while reading from a good relaxing book, or poetry. I am preplanning that I will include something soothing in my lunch, in this case, a container of chocolate pudding. I will eat it slowly and with relish.

Meetings again after lunch, same situation as the previous meetings.

Then I can head home.

I will get home sometime after 9 tonight and eat a quick dinner.

Something simple is the best option for this, tea and soup or that can of spaghetti-os from my leopard wrangling kit.

A quiet book, even a favorite from childhood. A little soft music. Maybe a little time with watercolors.

A moment to list everything I am grateful for from the day, even if that is simply a list of i mad it from ten to eleven o’clock. I made it from eleven to noon. I made it past noon.

Sometimes all you can do is take a breath and tell yourself you just need to make it through the day.

Each hour, a short list of easy to check off and complete.

If necessary ways to try and reign in the leopards. If necessary rewards for making it through the hour.

And the promise that tomorrow is another day and you can get though that one too.

[pjstafford]

Letter to The Truly Like Lightning Book Club

I’m a person who likes to write, but I know I sometimes make spelling or grammatical mistakes which annoy people. I apologize in advance.

I do tend to be pretty open and honest about my feelings and I do feel deeply.

I kind of like social media to be upbeat and positive. I don’t really like to knock it too much when it isn’t. What’s the point!? Social Interaction between humans is sometimes problematic no matter what form it takes.

I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When it is triggered I have a flight response. On Twitter that means making my Twitter footprint smaller. I want to be smaller to protect myself. Yesterday, though, it seemed like I was being told that as small as my footprint had gotten, I wasn’t small enough. What do I do now? How small can I go before I’m gone.

I truly don’t know where to go with something that is not a life threatening problem, not a rocket science issue, but is a little thing about a book club. I believe it was The Who who sang this is not a social crisis, but just another tricky day for you. This morning is a Tricky day. I am really wondering...

Do we cancel the book club?

Do we have a steering committee to organize it differently?

Do we go off twitter?

Do we have a different facilitator?

Should I leave social media, maybe shave my head and take a vow of silence?

How I feel about this is extremely foolish and really desperately sad with just a smidge of anger.

I feel foolish because I thought the book club was going really, really well. I have loved the discussion. It has deepened my understanding of the book which I already enjoyed. It’s been fun. Imagine my surprise to find out there are issues. The sad and angry piece is a little complicated. So let me put the issues out first since that is what the club needs to discuss today. This is the fourth book club I have facilitated on Twitter. It has been my most pleasant experience until today. Every club has been formatted exactly the same. Apparently this one might need some restructuring.

1. When is the appropriate amount of time following a book’s publication to allow to pass before doing a public book club where people who may not be in the book club could still see the discussion? People who might read the book in the future or had started the book and wasn’t as far along might have spoilers. It’s a valid concern, but Twitter isn’t known for being a spoiler free zone. If a program drops on the East Coast two hours before my time, before I can watch spoilers exist on Twitter. However this book dropped February 2 and we waited until March 1st to begin the book club. We have a # but when people respond they don’t always use the #. Also some people don’t follow me and they are not part of the book club but because people retweet the questions they were showing up on people’s timeline when they didn’t want them there. So the compromise we arrived at was no body can retweet any question or response and every response must have the #. I’m still confused, though, about the rules. Movies/television =immediate spoilers acceptable, books= a month to six weeks is too soon. I was told it’s not a matter of rules but being nice. Ok. I want to be nice but what is the appropriate time because sometimes I don’t read a book for years? If we postpone the book club for six months, a year, three years, thirty? With the compromise reached, why do I care? Because why are we being so quiet and circumspect about a book I think people ought to know about and read. Sometimes social media helps create a buzz. What a shame that a book club that is reading the book critically and in depth is, to some degree, being told to not be so loud because, you know, Twitter is a spoiler free zone. To be clear, I think the persons who raise the concerns did so for legitimate reasons and out of concerns for future readers of the book, but when we talk about the reasons I am sad and angry you will see why this upset me we much. it’s not their fault but I responded poorly and I’m still coming down from my PTSD spiral.

2. Perhaps, the problem is that Twitter isn’t the appropriate forum for a book club. Maybe Discord or private messages or zoom. Yes. This is the fourth book club I’ve hosted on Twitter. I was asked in March last year if I would start a book club due to quarantine. They’ve all been successful so far. Why do I feel so silenced? Again I don’t think the person who suggested this meant anymore than oh, let’s solve the spoiler problem. But I have a particular reason for not wanting to be silenced.

3. Some people have read the full book already and want to talk about the book in its entirety. I see that. I really do. I just have never had a book club like that. That means waiting longer. Some people like the chapter a day. Should we do multiple book clubs ?

4. Are the questions too serious? The subject matter is complex. Would a different facilitator be more appropriate? One who wouldn’t highlight the controversial and serious issues!

Why am I sad and a little angry? Why did my PTSD kick in outside of it being a bad year and a stressful time at work and I’m tired? Haven’t had a day off I a long while. (No complaints I have a job). I’m tired.

April 2017 I started the Twitter account @hearteyes4david. I had help but it was mostly me. I kind of love David Duchovny’s writing. I have blogged about it and have said someday he will have a break out novel. I believe Truly Like Lightning should be it. But the account showed love for all things David and I believe it gave some fans some fun. I enjoyed being a part of it. We had newsletters and contests. But for me, I an first and foremost a fan of David’s writing. I write. I admire writers. His writing should not be diminished by his other careers. In March of last year with the lock down I was asked to facilitate a Miss Subways book club, then the lock down went on so we did his other two books. Twitter and hearteyes have been my happy place in this year. It’s hard when your happy place feels threatening.

I was fortunate enough to get an advance digital copy of the book to read. Wow. Different! Great! It is not because I am 😍. This is one of the best books I’ve read this century. I am an avid reader. I have a critical eye. I wrote a spoiler free review. Almost immediately a fan contacted me. Because of spoilers you shouldn’t have posted this. Why don’t you do a DM for those who are interested? Don’t do spoilers. It’s a spoiler free review. This fan continued to tell me that it would be best not to post about the book. ( you know, spoilers). Then fans who had not read the book but knew for a fact that every other page was full of sex scenes and drugs and it was essentially exactly like Californication (not remotely) started saying nothing should be posted on the 😍 page about this book. Then a fan who hadn’t read it complained about how it handled religion and said it would cause her personal pain to see anything about this book on the 😍 page. I kept saying. I actually don’t care if you read it or not. My suggestion is you mute, block or unfollow the account if you don’t like the content. “But the pain, could we at least not do the book club? “. 🥺🥺🥺. I was convinced that rather than have the controversy on the 😍 page I would choose to leave my happy place account I had created to start a small account and my fan related activities became far more focused. It might not seem like much, but the decision to leave 😍 was hard, but I wanted to talk about this book. These aren’t the only reasons but the three pronged fans really angry at me for a book I didn’t write which wasn’t even published yet was challenging during the holiday season of 2020. I made my Twitter footstep smaller. I passed the account to Charmion who is doing great.

So then I waited till March to talk about the book. In the meantime “fans” who hadn’t read the book, immediately started to spread lies and mistruths about the book including selective out of context screen shots. So much for “Spoilers”. Still I waited until March. So now I have a smaller account followed by 100 people which very few “super fans” know about and about 5-7 of us are talking about this book. That’s it. For 18 days we have discussed the difficult, complex flawed characters and how the book demonstrates that these characters actions caused harm to other characters and yet left us with empathy for all. We have not always agreed. It’s a book club. Reading one chapter a day.

Yet somehow we are too loud. My tweets were being retweeted. You know, have to be concerned about spoilers. Were there 15 hate filled tweets from people who shared screen caps they were sent of random out of context paragraphs, people who proudly say they haven’t read the book, don’t need to, they’re experts, 15 for every one of mine. Of course. But I’m too loud. You know. Spoilers

So I am sad. Desperately so. I walked away from an account I had poured a lot of love into because I believed in a book I wanted to talk about. After being pretty involved in the fandom, my current activities are pretty narrowed. I’m not sure I can continue to facilitate the book club. I guess my days involved in “fandom” outside of being a fan are drawing to a close. My happy place is kind of gone.

I’m angry because this book deserves to be critically read on its merits. I’m angry because I don’t like my voice to be silenced. I’m angry because I think there are fans who actually like the book who are in fact concerned about spoilers, but they don’t realize by silencing or at least quieting the discussion of fans who have read and want to discuss the book, they are only allowing the space for the haters voices to be heard. I’m angry at myself because every step of the way I should have handle this differently. I’m angry because I shouldn’t care so much. It’s not a Jan 6 insurrection, climate change, or world peace. It’s a book by an author who don’t need me to fight these battles.

Finally I’m simply confused about where or what to do. With an account of 100 followers some people who don’t follow me think I’m too loud because I’m posting about something they don’t want on their feed (David’s book) and someone might repost me. Because I feel threaten by people telling me too get smaller my response is to try and get smaller. So I shouldn’t post about David’s book because there are people in he fandom who don’t want to see posts about David’s book. Ok. I should come on Twitter and never interact because that way no one will ever see a post from me they don’t want to see🤷‍♀️. Mercy, I’m on a lobbyist, have you guys seen the political stuff I post on my other account? Yep, probably just the fandom stuff I need to walk away from except for, you know, being a fan, but never discussing it.

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (5)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 8.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: So on to the next chapter! This is probably the longest I’ve written for this series! Anyway, please excuse my tarot reading skills, my knowledge is only limited to watching pick a car readings in youtube and google. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy! -Hyeri

⍟ Taglist: @shoshishua, @woozisnoots (I also want to thank @minkwans and @oprandomfeels for leaving such a nice messages on the tags in the previous chapter!! I dont want to sound creepy but i do comeback to them if i needed motivation to write! so thank you!!)

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

CILVEKAN ESPIONAGE TURNS PARLIAMENT INTO A BATTLEFIELD by Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung

The Porta Persa Edition, October 12th

Words that break like cannon shots, arguments that burn like incendiaries, bulwarks of statements that are hardly impenetrable—such is a terrifying and impressive sight to behold upon the ancient halls of the Parliament in these last few weeks. The fate of the two Cilvekan agents who were previously caught in Lower Efendel had been a divisive force upon the venerated legislative body of our nation; rendering them into a heated stalemate. 

Armed with wit and sound proofs, Conservatives led by Atlen County Representative Kang Jinho campaigned for stringent travel restrictions, as well as a thorough examination of all Cilvekan nationals entering and leaving Porta Persa. He contends that the security of this powerful nation must not be compromised for simple material gains. 

Pointing an accusing finger at the trading and tourism industry which has seen immense growth in profits due to the inflow of foreign immigrants and visitors into the country, Conservatives have been critical of lax travel regulations over the years in which they view, as in Rep. Kang’s words, as a means for ‘alien entities’ to ‘wreak havoc in this peaceful land’ and ‘further their covert operations to diminish and weaken the stability of Porta Persa’. According to Rep. Kang, it is rightfully so that sacrifices are to be made to ensure that no foreign powers would dare to assert their influence over this country. 

On the other side of the argument lie Santaragossa Assembly Representative Lee Jihoon, the flagship of both Libertarians and Moderates on this matter, who, with his rapid fire responses, have advocated for softer regulations and an extensive counterintelligence program instead. 

In his speech to Congress today, Rep. Lee disputes that economic factors are hardly simple, and should not be diminished into mere ‘increase of gains’. In his words ‘There are people who, if harsher travel restrictions are thus placed, will be left for wild dogs to eat, for the weather to beat and rattle their bones on the cold earth. With no means of a livelihood to provide for themselves, what will become of them? For us who have a roof to sleep in, and food on the table to eat, it is easy for us to say that travel restrictions are a minor inconvenience. Yet for these people, harsher travel restrictions are equivalent to a death sentence.’

He further advocates for a better counterintelligence program wherein proper and stronger defenses are to be implemented only at the appropriate areas, as this is not only cost effective, but also ensures that the livelihood and the human rights of all people in Porta Persa, whether be citizen, immigrant, tourist and whatnots are protected and venerated…

◇

“Lee Jihoon was truly frightening during that session. I swear to god, sitting there feels like he’s attacking me personally.”

Unlike the usual, the three of you were not relaxing comfortably outside the lush courtyards of the Royal Academy, eating carefully prepared lunches and enjoying the view. Instead, late morning sunlight poured from the open windows, illuminating the wooden desk and chair you were sitting on, silently listening to your friends.

To your right, sat said friends: Wonwoo and Soonyoung who were fresh from the printers, the rancid smell of ink sticking to their regal school uniform. On Soonyoung’s hands was the freshly printed draft of your newspaper, which was to be released the next day. 

He folded the newspaper and tossed it beside you on the desk. 

“He’s been like that for what? A week now, I reckon?” 

“Two, in my opinion.” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. He was the calmer kind of fellow. Soonyoung was more theatrical. 

“Oh good god, it’s been two weeks already?” Soonyoung exclaimed, his lips ajar. “No wonder Y/N is here all the time!”

Wonwoo glanced at you, who simply turned away and faced the open window. “Why are you here exactly?”

You continued to grind Alizarin berries on your portable mortar and pestle with a nonchalant look on your face. “I’m making your allergy medicine.”

“Not yesterday and in the last few weeks,” Wonwoo retorted back, giving you an inquisitive look. “Now tell me, is it because of Lee Jihoon?” 

Groaning, you continued to pour all of your irritation at the poor powdered berries in your mortar. “Must the reason always be Lee Jihoon?” 

“Well, why are you here then?” Soonyoung shrugged, glancing at you with raised brows. 

Exasperated, you sighed and left the mortar and pestle alone for once. In all honesty, the reason was indeed Lee Jihoon. After he saw your breakdown two weeks ago, you were avoiding him at all cost because you knew he was going to ask you about it and you were not one to divulge such sensitive topics. 

Of course, you wouldn’t let them know. “The way my room looks is just nauseating.” 

Soonyoung made an incredulous frown while Wonwoo snorted. 

“Right.” They both said.

Having childhood friends has its own disadvantages: you couldn’t really hide anything from them. Yet you wouldn’t tell them anything for that matter. Your room was indeed nauseating, spinning around and around as your vision blur if you just stay in one position for far too long.The way your stomach churns and your legs buckle because of the amount of suppressants you were taking to block your soulmate connection was something you simply cannot express into words. 

You stare at the red powder inside the mortar. The smell was making you lurch, reminding you of the suppressant, yet you expertly concealed it with a cough and a broad change of subject. 

“Aren’t we supposed to go somewhere today?” you asked, adding more berries to the mortar. 

“No, it’s on Friday, 3pm,” Wonwoo replied, checking his travel sized planner. “For some time, Soonyoung and I have been tracing documents from Luce Trading to see if they could give us some clues. But most of them inexplicably got lost or destroyed from last year’s flooding, but thankfully, Soonyoung found some in a novelty shop.” 

Upon hearing, you quirked a brow at them. “That is quite interesting. It is possible that something important is in those documents, especially when they had deemed it necessary to destroy them. It seems like fortune is on our side today.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Exactly my thoughts.”

“I reckon, those documents can finally settle the question of who their actual victims are,” the other male remarked with a considerate nod. “We can actually take a step forward in this investigation!”

You forced a smile. Truly, you were elated but the way your heart was palpitating wasn't feeling that great to you. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses once more, a habit he has acquired whenever he was thinking of something.

"Quite frankly, I still haven't forgotten what Jihoon had told me a few months ago," he started, fidgeting with his hands. "And god knows if he's telling me the truth or throwing us off the scent." 

"Oh that one..." Soonyoung exclaimed, nodding. You glanced at the two of them, looking betrayed. 

"Why have I no knowledge of this?" You asked, eyes shooting daggers. 

The two boys quickly exchanged glances and panicked.

"You haven't told Y/N?" Wonwoo asked the other male, who was beginning to pout. 

"What…I thought you told Y/N!" He replied, pointing at you. 

What seemed like a little misunderstanding was going to become a lot of bickering later on, so as you rolled your eyes, you put yourself between the two of them. 

"Alright, enough. Just tell me what Lee Jihoon said," you spoke sternly, hands on your hips.

“It’s not as straightforward as you think,” Wonwoo recounted. “Jihoon kept going in circles about our newspaper, Alex Fireflower—”

“Me?” you exclaimed, furrowing your brow.

“Yes, you. And the Gestalt case,” Wonwoo continued, acknowledging you. “At first, I was under the impression that he was simply inquiring what my thoughts were with regards to the Gestalt case as a fellow classmate, yet as it turned out, he appears to be hinting that it was a suicide case.”

A bewildered look was what you gave him, not understanding how a blatantly homicide case could possibly be a suicide. “I need you to expound further than that.”

Your friend shrugged. “That’s where the problem lies. We know that the Gestalts might be involved in the sex trafficking ring due to the judicial records we’ve discovered before, yet to what extent is a matter we have no knowledge of.”

“Oh, yes, that tax evasion case filed against Luce Trading that was suddenly dismissed by court with no apparent reason…it seems malicious, yet I still doubt that it should be considered a connection to the syndicate” Soonyoung remarked. 

“Those things usually happen yet everything involved in this case should be accounted for. Even including the possibility of it being a suicide,” Wonwoo continued. 

“Yet logistically speaking, how can it possibly be a suicide?” You asked, clearly unconvinced. “Lee Jihoon is merely giving us chaff.”

“That is the reason why I cannot just stop thinking about it. It’s perplexing.” 

“You’re just doing mental exercises, Wonwoo,” you dismissed him. “Trusting Lee Jihoon is definitely not advisable. He’s a politician. We might be unaware that he is in fact a part of that syndicate, and is simply playing cat and mouse with us.”

Wonwoo heaved a long sigh, leaning against the bedpost. “That, I won’t deny.”

“Rather than running on conjectures, we should proceed with the investigation instead,” Soonyoung interrupted solemnly. “We simply do not have the entire narrative.”

"I completely agree," you replied, leaning against the table as you go through another wave of stomach cramps with much composure. "Let's…lay out what we know first." 

The two of them nodded at you, which you considered a signal to begin.

"So, we know that some government officials are involved in a sex trafficking scheme. Why do we know that?" 

Soonyoung answered. "Because Wonwoo unintentionally eavesdropped a conversation between his father and a parliament member, who was trying to ask him to vote against the amendment of the Soulmate bond." 

"He offered my father membership to the syndicate among other things…" Wonwoo quietly continued, perusing his thoughts. 

"Right. We know that the Gestalt case is somewhat related to the syndicate. Why?" 

"For one, that parliament member who had attempted to lobby for my father's vote was asking him to vote against the amendment which has stemmed from the Gestalt case. It could possibly be a stretch but we should not deny it." 

Nodding, you continued. "And the fact that we had found out that Rene Gestalt had already died right after the High Court suspension. And had died under a different name and under a mysterious circumstance."

"If Rene Gestalt was a simple nobody, he wouldn’t have died in that manner," Soonyoung added. "And that tax evasion case shouldn't have been dismissed so easily."

"Luce Trading is more profitable than Kwon International, isn't it?" You asked, but Soonyoung immediately replied.

"Hey now! We had better sales for the past decade!" 

You giggled, "Alright, my apologies." 

"I still find it hard to fit the pieces though," Wonwoo interrupted. "Why Luce Trading? Why did Himi Gestalt die but not Rene? What exactly happened?"

The three of you exchanged glances.

"We need more information."

You leaned back, sighing as you felt the heaviness of the possible truth you have in your hands. Wonwoo and Soonyoung were pretty much the same. That’s why, more than anything, you didn’t want any sort of distraction, especially those that involve soulmate bonds.

“In the meantime, Y/N,” Wonwoo began, giving Soonyoung a look and then the two gazed at you with concerned expressions. “Are you truly, definitely, a hundred percent, alright?” 

You knitted your brows, and immediately replied. “I’ve never been better.”

“No…! No, what we meant is…” Soonyoung was the one who responded. “You…you fought with your father, didn’t you?”

It was a sudden inquiry, you can admit that, but you were not at least surprised they had asked. Your father must’ve gone to Soonyoung’s father and then they informed him of the matter. 

“A few weeks ago, yes,” you told them, nonchalant as you added more berries to the mortar. “I have decided to cut ties with him once and for all. He’s nothing to me now.”

You noticed that they were taken aback, but it was an expected reaction. The decision was indeed done in the heat of the moment, yet you didn’t feel anymore remorseful. 

“You do not have to worry about me. I have you two, and our newspaper is doing quite well in sales,” you reassured them. “Cutting him off is simply removing dead weight off my shoulders.”

Without any warning, Soonyoung pulled you to a tight embrace and Wonwoo followed soon after. You simply stayed still in surprise, as they continued to console you silently, knowing that you didn’t need any words to make you feel better. 

“Y/N, please know that we will always be here for you,” Wonwoo began. “We’ve been together since we were children, and we’ll always will be.”

“If you wish to get something off your chest, we are always here to listen. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

You grimaced at this, but hid it easily by burying yourself underneath their embrace. You’ll tell them everything someday, but now, you simply wish to brave the storm by yourself.

“I will.”

◇

"Jihoon!"

Heavy footfalls echo across the marbled hallways of the Parliament. Rows of white columns line up on the curve, the view of Porta Persa easily seen with just one turn of a head.

"Jihoon, please wait for a moment!"

Harsh steps that march through with controlled frustration, and another set which was running after them. Nobody was on sight other than two men who were adorned by their heavy purple robes, billowing with the wind.

"Lee Jihoon!" 

"What is it ?!" The other snapped, his eyes piercing and intense.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs sighed, his demeanor tinged with concern. The whole Parliament hearing was tense and unnerving, and Lee Jihoon seemed to be in the middle of the swirling storm. 

"I simply wanted to see if you are doing well," Joshua offered, his voice calm, yet the other simply scoffed.

"What do you suppose?" he replied, his tone filled with frustration and sarcasm. "If we lose next week's vote, it'll be all over!" 

Joshua reached out for Jihoon's shoulder, trying to help the other through his temper. 

"Alright Jihoon, listen to me. We still have time. We can still convince the others to vote against the bill." 

"But we need fifty more votes! Where in heaven's name are we going to find those?" He exclaimed and then groaned, resounding through the deserted hall.

"You need to calm down, Jihoon!" Joshua reminded, shaking some sense into him. "You're making a mountain out of a mole hill!"

The dark haired male blinked, stunned by the sudden loudness of his friend's voice. The high had finally subsided in his veins as he huffed and removed himself from Joshua's grasps. 

"Jihoon…"

"I apologize. I'm simply exhausted," he replied, sighing as he turned his back to the other. "While this issue has been particularly draining, my soulmate bond is eating my energy away as well." 

Joshua blinked, wondering what was the matter this time. They had left Jihoon in his dorm room that day as instructed, yet for some reason after that, he seemed to have become more snappish and gloomy. 

Jihoon sighed once more, probably the nth time for today. 

"She…she was crying when she arrived, you know. I have no inkling as to why but it did hurt me…seeing her like that," he continued, now more to himself than to Joshua. "I wanted to comfort her or do something, anything…but she pushed me away, both physically and mentally. It's been weighing on me since then."

Without a word, Joshua walked towards him and placed an understanding tap on his shoulder. "I wish I can offer you some help."

At this point, Jihoon simply shook his head with a downcast smile. "There is nothing we can do about it if she doesn't want me." 

Those words, as he said it, felt more painful than he had anticipated. Yet that was the truth—she had blocked him, in more ways than one. Jihoon wished he knew why yet he had already spent enough sleepless nights on it that he didn't need more.

"In the meantime, it would be nice if we had those fifty votes before the weekend."

◇

Oct. 14th 

Desmere District, Porta Persa

"So, it's here?" You asked, standing in front of a decrepit shop, flanked by two of your friends. "Are you sure it's here?" 

You weren’t really one to judge but the way the roof shingles were about to fall, the dull green paint peeling off the door, and the dusty shop window filled by various junk accumulated over the years, was telling a rather clear story. 

You could even  hardly read the name of the shop. 

“52nd Oppleton street, Esmond Novelty Shop….Yes, without a doubt this is the one!” Soonyoung replied cheerfully, grinning ear to ear, “Come on now! No time to waste!” 

Wonwoo glanced at you with a knowing look as he followed after Soonyoung through the door. Today seemed to be one of those days where Wonwoo was in a rather irritatingly playful mood. “You heard him. No time to waste now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t new for you to be the victim of their teasing, but you didn’t appreciate it either when it comes. Thus, as you rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, you threw your hesitation out of the window. Following closely behind, you heard the charming bell chime above you as soon as you entered, yet the dust which wafted through the air was not as charming as you had feared.

“Welcome to our shop! Feel free to look around and see if anything suits your fancy!” A male voice greeted you three, though you cannot make out a clear image of him as he seemed to be covered by the centuries old dust. 

“Ah, we’re actually looking for someone…” Soonyoung replied, fishing a piece of parchment inside the pocket of his vest. “Um…a Madame Adora?” 

While the three of you seemed to be unsure, the tall burly man, which you have now seen after the dust has settled, nodded in understanding. 

“Yes, yes. Please follow me. Her shop is at the back,” he replied and turned around, not waiting for you to respond. 

Exchanging curious glances, you followed close behind—carefully studying your surroundings as you did. There were a lot of books for one. Stacks upon stacks of leather tomes piled on top of another which was rather deadly if one wrong move was made. The shopkeeper, seemingly used to this dangerous environment, easily navigated his way through the path provided. 

There were a lot of miscellaneous items as well: old shoes, typewriters, some ornate desks which were long forgotten. Dirty porcelain dolls, dull grey candelabras, and even a baby grand piano covered with various knickknacks—essentially, this was a shop of extras: once loved, tossed away and buried under the sands of time. Their fate seemed to have given you a melancholic mood, yet there is little you can do to change it. 

“Where do you find all of these?” Wonwoo asked, curious as he perused over an old book about outdated potions. 

“There are numerous ways,” the man shrugged, dodging a stray pole which was protruding from a pile of junk. “Sometimes we buy them from people who move houses, sometimes they just give it to us, and some just find their way here.”

His words immediately reminded you of the thought that objects do have souls in them. They used to be someone’s important thing; they were once given meaning and context by the people who used to own them. This place had become their new home now, amidst the sea of other objects that were no different.

A light knock on wood snatched you from your thoughts as you averted your attention back to the matter at hand. The shopkeeper had stopped in front of a slightly ajar door, peeking carefully at the space. 

“Madame, these people wish to speak to you,” he called out, yet he was met by silence and a rather loud creaking of a chair being moved. A grainy “let them in” soon followed, though you were not as sure since it was just above a murmur.

Nodding, the shopkeeper moved and allowed you space to walk inside the room. With rather modest postures, the three of you silently entered in file, easily spotting a worn out loveseat, which was probably a bright emerald in its youth, to sit on. It was a rather small space, enough to be a breakfast room, with second hand furniture and astrology-related objects littered around to give a sense of mystique. 

“Robert, fetch those documents for me please,” the old woman ordered, who you hardly noticed with how she was almost covered by the wooden desk before her. The shopkeeper, who was apparently named Robert hummed and disappeared, closing the door shut. 

As soon as he was gone, you scooted on your seat to take a closer look of the old woman. Just as you had anticipated, Madame Adora was petit, but was made to look larger by her bulky dress adorned by stars and moons embroidered in metallic thread. It had the same fabric as her headpiece which was wrapped around her head like a towel. The one which caught most of your attention however, was the large dangling sun and moon earrings which were as big as her head. You wondered if they were as heavy as they looked. 

“Um…we’re—” Wonwoo began but was instantly halted by the Madame with just one hand. 

“I know what you seek, my dear children,” she began, her voice croaky. Probably from smoking a bit too much; you thought as you noticed the ashtray on her table next to the burning sage. 

The three of you raised your eyebrows, wondering what Madame Adora could’ve meant by her words. She seemed to be the eccentric type, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she busted out tarot cards and a crystal ball any minute. 

“You are on your path to fulfill a great purpose for humanity. It is a fate neither you nor this country can avoid,” she continued, making you glance at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. You wanted to ask them if she was sane, but out of courtesy, you decided to keep your mouth shut. 

“O-Of course…that—that’s what we’re trying to do,” Soonyoung replied awkwardly as he shifted on his seat. “But we do need to—”

“Yet be cautioned. This path does not offer refuge nor solace for the tired and weary. You will be accompanied by danger, deceit and the deep dark evils of this world. You will face adversaries stronger and larger than you had anticipated. Poke the bear, and its claws shall appear. Be strong and always seek for the truth.”

“Uh…yes, of course,” you replied, ending with uncertainty. “So the documents—”

“Ah, yes. Robert will be here soon,” she interrupted yet again. “While we wait, would any of you like a tarot reading?” 

“T-tarot reading?” Soonyoung exclaimed, as he leaned forward, not sure if he had heard it right. 

What a surprise. You simply smiled.

Interrupting your gloating, Soonyoung suddenly nudged you with his elbow, making you look at him. 

“What?” you asked, your voice a whisper. 

“Y-you do it, Y/N!” He replied, his expression not betraying the fact that he was a bit afraid. 

“What? Me? Of course not! Do you suppose I believe in such buffoonery?”

“Now, now. It’s just tarot cards, what harm could it possibly do to you? Attack you with a paper cut?” Soonyoung immediately replied, even though he was the one who got frightened first.

“Soonyoung is right, Y/N,” Wonwoo joined in, though you knew he was trying to gang up on you. “Besides, you wouldn’t be so cruel to deny this poor woman an income, would you?”

You closed your eyes, and breathed in—incredibly irritated by this game Wonwoo was playing today. However, you just didn’t have the energy to pick up a fight with how your stomach was beginning to churn once again; the suppressants returning with a vengeance after the pain relievers had worn off.

“Fine then! I’ll do it,” you seethed through gritted teeth as you stood up and walked towards the old woman. “I’ll do it.”

Now much closer, you saw Madame Adora smile warmly at you, which made you feel a bit guilty for getting angry. Sighing, you turn your gaze down to the wooden desk, unable to look into her eyes. 

“Boys,” the Madame suddenly called in her raspy voice. “Robert is waiting for you in the other room to look at the documents. Your friend will join you shortly.”

At this development, both Wonwoo and Soonyoung glanced at you, asking if it was alright for them to leave you. You smiled at them encouragingly. You’ll be fine. It’s just a tarot reading.

“Please don’t start without me,” you turned to them as they left the room. “I’m looking at you Kwon Soonyoung.”

Your friend simply grinned and gave you a salute. “Aye, aye!”

When the door was finally shut and you were left alone with the old woman, you glanced at her, wondering what was about to happen, or if she was going to do something.

“What’s your name, my dear?” she asked, something you hadn’t expected.

“Uh…I’m Y/N,” you soon replied, fiddling with a stray lock. You tried to deduce what the Madame was thinking, but nothing came to mind. She was eccentric and unpredictable; there was no use trying to predict the next set of events.

“Well then, please take a seat, Y/N,” she offered the armchair beside you which you quickly sat on. “Is this your first time getting a reading?”

“Yes, I…” you tried to evaluate your next words. “I’ve never been to a shop like this before.” 

She simply chuckled at you, pulling out a deck of cards from a drawer. “I understand, dear. We readers are few in number, yet believe it or not, just like magical practitioners, it is necessary for us to have proper licenses.” 

With the new information, you raised your brows and nodded, wondering why you haven’t known of this field before. As you continue to swim in your thoughts, Madame Adora began waving the smoking sage around the area. 

Knowing your curious look, she gave a small smile. “To cleanse the space, my dear. Sometimes we carry residual energy from people, objects or situations. It is necessary to cleanse before we begin the reading, so we can only pick up your own energy.”

Nodding once more, you didn’t really know what she was talking about. You were no magi, and your knowledge of magic was limited to alchemy and potions, which was grounded more into the material world than the metaphysical. 

“Alright then. What kind of reading do you wish to do?” She asked and you only gave her a blank look—completely innocent to the kind of readings a reader could perform. 

Without you needing to say a word, the Madame nodded in understanding and explained it to you. 

“A reading, in its base form, is a medium to provide some clarity. The Universe itself provides the answers. So if there is a question, a situation which you wish to seek clarity on, then we could begin with that.” 

Even before the old woman had finished talking, your head was already turning gears and cogwheels. You wanted to ask about the syndicate and the investigative reporting you were doing, yet for some reason, a niggling feeling inside of you was telling you it wasn’t the right question to ask. 

So you searched for it, concentrating on the feeling that you knew you could trust. However, at the end,  you were surprised to where it had led you. You didn’t want to ask about it. It was done, it was there. It didn’t matter anymore. But you felt it. It was so strong that it made shivers creep under your skin. You know you needed to hear it. 

You sighed. It’s just a tarot reading. No harm done. 

“I…uh…” you gazed downwards, finding your wrist wrapped in ribbon to be quite fascinating; deciding for one last time if this was indeed the decision you were making.

“My…uh, soulmate bond.”

You were not sure if she had heard you with how small your voice sounded, but there was no way you would repeat yourself. The way you finally said those words out loud felt like some sort of acceptance; an acknowledgement that a soulmate bond existed between you and that person. Before, it felt like it was simply a figment of your imagination.

To your surprise, the Madame nodded at you, smiling proudly. “Then it shall be. Let us begin.”

You nodded back, watching as she began to expertly shuffle the cards. 

“I will be doing a simple spread for you. A first card or cards would explain your energy, and then his energy. Afterwards, your strengths and weaknesses, then the state of this connection. Finally, we will be asking for the future of your soulmate connection.”

Unaware of how specific tarot can be, you only stared at her quite agile hands, not fully understanding everything. 

“Please be reminded, dear that energies do change. What is shown here is simply the current energy of the soulmate bond. You and your soulmate still do have the agency to change your future, yet for now, this is what it is.”

You definitely liked the sound of that. If tarot had been in any way fatalistic, you would’ve soured on it in an instant. You always believed that you had some semblance of control over your life, or at least you wanted to. 

Quietly, the Madame began drawing out cards, mostly cards which jumped out while she was shuffling. As she began to neatly arrange the cards into a grid-like form, you watched out for any reaction or expression from her. As it turned out, the most you could get was a slight raise of a brow. 

When it was all done, she flipped the deck over and placed it beside the spread. Peering overing, you saw that there were a lot of cards, some were upright and the others upside down. You wondered what these all meant.

“Well then, my dear,” she spoke to you, glancing all over the spread and then nodded in understanding. “Let us begin with your energy—Eight of Swords, Queen of Swords reversed and the Hermit reversed.”

“Are those good or bad?” you asked, curious, yet the old woman simply tightened her lips.

“What I could say is that, you may seem to be trapped in your situation right now, whatever your situation may be. Look at this woman in the Eight of Swords,” she replied, holding out the card to you. “ She is blindfolded and surrounded by these swords. She seems to be trapped and imprisoned. It could be your thoughts or what you are telling yourself, as swords symbolizes our mind and how we communicate. You could be suffering from self-doubt.”

Taking in her words, you could feel a lump forming in your chest, knowing that she was indeed right. 

“And then we have the Queen of Swords, which is you. When she is upright, she is a force to be reckoned with: intelligent, independent and the speaker of truth, however dear, we have her in reverse, which only shows the shadow side of this energy. The Hermit in reverse is telling me the same thing. My dear, I must apologize, yet this is what I see. As you continue to trap yourself with negative thoughts, you are slowly closing off your heart, becoming coldhearted and bitter, leading you into more loneliness and isolation. Whatever has caused you to become like this was incredibly painful that you have been pushed into fear, creating these defensive walls which then became the swords blindsiding you at this moment.”

You were silent, knowing full well what the old woman was talking about. You wanted to be angry at her for speaking a truth you were trying to avoid all this time, yet there was only sadness in your heart. 

“I’m so sorry dear, but this is what the cards say, but please rest assured that your energy could still change. Considering the strengths of this connection, I have high hopes that this soulmate bond will succeed,” Madame Adora consoled you, seeing the deep hurt in your eyes. 

“It’s fine,” you replied, swallowing the bile forming in your throat. “Please continue.”

Hesitantly, the Madame moved to the two cards beside the first ones she had read. “For your soulmate’s energy: the Two of Pentacles in reverse and the Hierophant.”

���As for now, your soulmate is in an imbalance. Look at how this person is trying to juggle the two pentacles in the card. He could hardly balance them at all. It could possibly be that your soulmate finds it difficult to manage their career and this connection with you, as this is a pentacles card which usually pertains to finances and the material world. Or, it could possibly be that they cannot find the balance between their traditional values and the constantly changing world with the Hierophant. Their views are definitely being challenged by you and your connection. Nevertheless, they seem to have felt your withdrawal and decided to focus on their career instead, which has now become two burdens on their shoulders.”

Making a downcast look, you felt guilty for making him feel that way. If he had indeed felt your pain through the bond, then he was no better than you. He was hurt too and the thought of you unintentionally inflicting pain on someone was something you were not keen on. 

“Now then, let’s  move to the strengths of this connection with the Chariot and Strength cards, which are incredibly powerful cards to have. Even this whole spread is powerful, considering how much Major Arcana you have.”

You leaned your head to the side. “Oh, is…is that so?”

“Yes. The Major Arcana holds more significance than the Minor Arcana, that is why having numerous cards from this suit could mean that this connection could be life changing for the both of you. With that said, having the Chariot and Strength implies that the both of you have a tremendous amount of strength and willpower. You and your soulmate are influential people who will stop at nothing to achieve your goals. That is why, even through all the pain and difficulties this bond will bring, this connection will survive.”

Not knowing what to make of that, you simply nodded. You were unsure if you do want this connection to survive. You hardly know your soulmate and you had no interest in doing so. You had long abandoned the idea that you will find love in a soulmate bond.

“Well now, look here, Y/N. I have been called upon to draw three cards for the weaknesses of this connection. We have the Five of Swords, the Nine of Swords in reverse and the High Priestess in reverse,” she continued, showing you the three cards.

“At this moment, there is conflict and disagreement in this connection. It could possibly be that the both of you have fought and that was the reason for your stagnant energy and his withdrawal, and with the Nine of Swords in reverse, usually this card means your anxieties and fears, and in reverse, it could be a release of those negative energies. However, in this reading, it seems like the both of you are hiding this inner turmoil in your hearts. Look at the image here,” the Madame pointed at the Nine of Swords.

“The woman is crying on her bed at night while these swords loom above her—she is crying alone, only the night is her companion, when everyone else is asleep and oblivious to her pain. In a way, you both are mirroring each other. You try to keep this conflict in your heart, making you feel disenchanted with this connection. You had lost hope of finding this love you seek. They on the other hand, try to bury themselves in their career or material possessions. They want stability and a sense of normalcy, yet cannot find it. The Universe has been providing divine guidance, yet with the High Priestess in reverse, the both of you cannot hear or perceive the signs.”

“This is further clarified with the Hanged Man and the Tower, both in reverse. These two cards represent the state of this connection, which further confirms the stagnation and fear of change in this connection. I felt this in the beginning when I was tapping to your energy, but dear, have you been blocking your soulmate bond?”

For some reason, you could only look at her and speak no words. There was fear in your eyes and guilt in your gut. It felt like you had done something unforgivable. You cast a glare to your arm, unable to utter any words of admittance. 

“Dear, may I see your wrist?” Madame Adora asked softly. You were hesitant at first but eventually gave in, pulling the ribbon that was wrapped around your wrist and placed it on the table. 

Gently, she examined the dull black bars on your skin as you watched curiously. You would ask what she was doing if she hadn’t begun speaking once again. 

“You are in pain, dear. Deep, deep pain you need to heal from. It’s not a fresh wound, but scars inflicted from so long ago yet continuously being pried open over the years. You keep on ignoring, burying these scars, hoping that time would help it heal someday,” she said, her fingers on the marks. 

“Yet when this soulmate bond came, it had forced you to face them even if you have no wish to, even if you were not ready to. This bond is making your fears rise to the surface—the fear of heartbreak and of disappointment. Thus, instead of waiting for someone else to do this to you, you decided to nip it in the bud. You try to convince yourself that you wish to be alone, that you are comfortable alone, yet deep inside you, you long for someone to share the heaviness which weighs down your heart.” 

Without even realizing, you had furrowed your brows and was glaring at the offending soulmate mark on your skin. There was a feeling deep inside you which refuses to accept the old woman's words. It was too painful to acknowledge the yearning that was deeply-rooted in your heart. It was too embarrassing to say that you had made a mistake.

You were simply protecting yourself. Those scars had long healed itself. You had already cut ties with your father and that was the end of the story. There is nothing more to talk about. There was no need to face any more of this. There is no need to reconcile with your soulmate. 

Gritting your teeth, you could sense anger rise deep inside of you. 

“But dear let me reassure you that despite everything, you will come together in the end. For the future of this connection, you have the Two of Cups which signifies a union. It is my soulmate card because as you can see, these two people are sharing, exchanging cups—”

—!!

You slammed your fist on the table abruptly, the cards jumping in disarray. Madame Adora looked at you sadly as you snatched your wrist away, holding it close to your chest. Your eyes were burning with rage, yet the old woman knew that that anger was rooted from deep longing and sadness.

“I don’t want it,” you muttered in a low voice, and then, after a short pause, began shouting as if it would relieve the guilt in your chest. “I don’t want it! I don’t want this! Could you please leave me alone!”

Without waiting for a reply, you ran out from the room, from the shop. You were in no capacity to continue the investigation with your friends when you are in this state of instability. You just want to leave and disappear for a while. 

Just for a while.

◇

Back inside the room, Madame Adora was greeted by Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who were surprised to know that you had left running out of the shop. 

“Ah, did Y/N lose her temper again?” Wonwoo asked as he had heard you shouting earlier. “We must apologize, Madame.”

“No, it is I who wishes for your pardon. I must have hurt your friend,” she replied. “Please give this to her as an apology.” 

The two men watched as the Madame pulled out a small box from one of the desk’s drawers and placed it on the table. They wondered what the Madame had said in the reading that made you lose composure. 

“We will deliver this to her immediately,” Soonyoung replied as he took the box and dropped it inside his pocket. “And thank you for the documents.”

“It is meant for you. I had been called upon to buy the desk which it was stored in, and when you came to this shop in search for such an item, I knew it was meant for this purpose,” Madame Adora replied, intertwining her fingers together. “But more than that, please watch over Y/N.”

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung exchanged glances. “W-we will.”

“Simply watch over her and give her support. She is going through something which only she can resolve.”

As the Madame said those words, her gaze was caught by the single card by her side. It was the card at the back of the deck—usually meant to summarize the energy of the whole reading. 

It was the Lovers.

◇

It was already dreadfully dark when you had decided to return to your dorm room.

The wisteria trees were already a midnight grey, the unlit path, a dark purple. Only a few streetlamps offered illumination through the pitch-black night as you waded through the campus in silence.

You took your time alone—wandering on random alleyways, sitting on deserted park benches, watching people pass by as they live their own lives, with their own problems. Nothing seemed real during those hours of isolation in the midst of the crowd. It was like the pain was too far away for you to reach; the events from that afternoon too far away to be reality.

Yet you knew you needed to return somehow. Thus, with eyes exhausted from crying tears unshed, and the ribbon you used to conceal your soulmate bond in your hands, you opened the door to your dorm room and saw its gauche splendor in shameless display.

With a sigh, you wrapped the ribbon on your wrist haphazardly, not caring if not seemed sloppy as long as the black bars were far from your sight.

Walking to the common room, you scanned the area for your roommate, wondering if he was asleep or still at his office on a Friday night. It would be better if you didn’t see him, you thought. There would be less explaining to do.

Yet the common room was depressingly empty. It had occurred to you that you never even spent much time in there as much as you would’ve liked. Was it simply because you were avoiding him or you were just not interested in sharing the same space with him, you didn’t know.

As you move past the wooden dining table and towards the kitchenette for a glass of water, you bumped into something fleshy and soft which definitely made you shriek and fall onto the floor in a painful thud.

“What…on earth?” you muttered, gradually coming down from your sudden adrenaline rush, your sight refocusing.

To your astonishment, you found one Lee Jihoon lying on the floor, obviously drunk by the whisky which was once inside the bottle he was clinging on to for dear life. Apprehensively, you crawled towards him, to check if he was still breathing. Yet before you could touch him, his dark brown eyes were on to you, still cold and jaded as the nights of December.

“Jihoon—“

You were about to reprimand him for bringing in prohibited alcohol inside the dorms and for sleeping on the floor during a cold autumn day, when you realized that his skin was red. Bright red.

Concern immediately shoots up to your brain as you reach out to him.

“Jihoon!” You exclaimed, shaking him to sobriety. “Jihoon! Are you intolerant to alcohol?”

Despite your concern, he could only hum groggily. “It’s…fine.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? How many bottles have you drunk?!” You asked, looking around and saw several bottles of the same whisky he was holding. “Oh god, you even chose one with high alcohol content! You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“It’s…fine, Y/N. I only had a few… just a few…”

He simply groaned in reply, lying comfortably on the floor without a care in the world. You only stared at him in exasperation, brushing your hair as you sighed.

You felt an urge to just leave him like that on the floor until dawn breaks. He can take care of himself, and being drunk probably isn’t something new to him. Yet you knew you can’t just do that. Whether or not he was Lee Jihoon, you had the obligation to not leave him to die of alcohol poisoning or of hypothermia.

The last one was a stretch, you admit but still, there was no way you could leave him like that as someone who tries to be compassionate at every point of day. At least, the sofa was a lot better than the cold floor.

Reaching for his arm and placing it around your shoulders, you tried to carry Jihoon to the sofa just a few steps away. Yet you hadn’t anticipated how heavy he actually was as you barely dragged him across the room, huffing and panting. You were not one with the best fitness

“Come on, Jihoon. Hold yourself up!  You’re simply too heavy for me to carry!” You exclaimed as you tried not to stumble on the way.

“Mmn…I’m sorry...I’m trying…” he drawled, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused—obvious indications that he has drunk too much for his own good.

Just a little bit…

Taking that one step remaining, you immediately tossed Jihoon to the soft sofa with a long and exhausted sigh. He only groaned, his hair in a disarray. You had only noticed now that he still had his work clothes on: a grey suit piece sans the tie which he must’ve tossed somewhere in the immediate past.

He had his eyes closed as you sat closely to him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. Jihoon seemed to be in peace this way, far from the constant creases in his brow or on his lips. Brushing away a stray lock of hair from his face, you noticed the angles on his face, the fullness of his cheeks, the rosiness of his lips. Was he always this familiar to you? It was a question you had no immediate answers to. Yet you had never anticipated to end your exhausting day with a drunk Lee Jihoon, yet that’s where you are now.

“I should give him some medicine to ease the redness,” you muttered to yourself as you stood up, your mind already listing the ingredients you needed to make one tablet, but before you did, a hand had stopped you in your tracks.

“Please…don’t leave me,” his voice, still lethargic, echoed behind you and you were forced to turn, your eyes captured by his unrelenting gaze.

“Jihoon…” you spoke softly, returning to your seat beside him as you helped him sit up clumsily. “But you’re still flushing.”

“Doesn’t matter…” he replied back, leaning unsteadily until you caught him in your arms. Now he was peacefully resting his head on your shoulder, burying himself into your embrace.

“J-Jihoon…?”

To say that you were wholly surprised was an understatement. You were floundering and unable to make anything out of this situation. This was something incredibly out of character for the Lee Jihoon you thought you knew.

“Y/N…I must….must apologize,” he began, which definitely made you furrow your brows in bewilderment. “I’m so sorry… I—I failed you…”

You stared into the air incredulously, not understanding what page Jihoon was in.

“You didn’t fail me,” you replied back. “You didn’t fail anyone, Jihoon…”

However, it seemed like your words fell into deaf ears as he snuggled up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so sorry…Y/N…please…please forgive me…”

Concluding that this was probably one drunk confession, you allowed him to find comfort in your presence, placing a consoling hand on his back as he continued to apologize to you.

This was a side to him you hadn’t expected to see. It was vulnerable, raw and unapologetically real—words you never thought you’d associate with Lee Jihoon. Yet there you were, as you hugged him back, finding solace in his arms as well when there was no one in the world you could share your burdens with.

“It’s okay, Jihoon…” you replied to him as you closed your eyes. “At least you tried, and it’s good enough for me.”

“Yet…yet…why can’t I feel you…?” he cried out, his voice clearly in pain. “Why can’t I reach you…? I…I always…alwaysss wanted to know you…to hold you like this…”

“Jihoon…”

You wished there was something you could say or do, yet you didn’t even know what he was talking about. It felt like the two of you were talking in a circle of riddles; finding yourselves in different pages.

“Y/N…please don’t be angry…please….please….don’t reject me,” he continued on as if in a trance. “I’m so sorry….so sorryyy….”

There was something in his words, or the way his voice shook that had pierced right through you. You wondered what you had done to him to plead to you like this. Yes, you did push him away a few weeks ago, yet that was the farthest you had gone to hurt him. You couldn’t understand what was happening, nevertheless, you still felt called upon to take action.

Moving your hand, you brushed his soft locks gently.

“I won’t reject you, Jihoon. I won’t push you away. I promise you.”

◇

PARLIAMENT PASSES BILL CRACKING DOWN ON CILVEKAN NATIONALS by Jeon Wonwoo

The Porta Persa Edition, October 27th

 In a historic vote, the Parliament has passed a bill on harsher travel restrictions for Cilvekan nationals as well as an extensive program which allows for the investigation of all Cilvekans in Porta Persa. This bill marks a tantamount win on Rep. Kang Jinho and his Conservative party—warranting a speculation of a bid on the Prime Minister seat.

This soon-to-be law highlights restrictions set on the amount of Cilvekan nationals leaving and entering Porta Persa wherein local governments can monitor their actions inside the country. It is also in the prerogative of the local government to deny entry to any Cilvekan wishing to enter.  According to Rep. Kang, it is necessary to be able to detect any sort of preemptive strike against Porta Persa to avoid endangering the security of the people.

This bill also boasts a program which, in conjunction with the restrictions, shall implement a vast inspection of all Cilvekan nationals present in the country. They are to undergo a thorough investigation conducted by the police and shall be warranted to arrests if ill-intentions against Porta Persa is proven.

With this bill, according to the Parliament, the government shall be able to ensure that the national security of Porta Persa shall not be threatened by any means, even if it meant sacrificing privacy and material gains. Sacrifice is and always will be inevitable on the road to peace…

◇

In the pitch black darkness of the night, echoes of footfalls resounded across the streets of Porta Persa. There was breaking of glass, breaking of wood, and shouts of women. 

Fear was high in the scent of the night. The streets of Porta Pera enshrined by men and women—rounded up in handcuffs and tied by accusations. Half the town was awake and afraid, half the town asleep and aloof. 

The night had just began.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

-Hyeri

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝malaise pt 3.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「The villain attack certainly did damage to you, physically. But there was a good side to it too, Bakugou comes to visit everyday which brightens your mood. The two of you began to build up your supposedly lost relationship. Even so, there are still unsaid things that needed to be said.」

Slight Angst ahead!

[ Part 1 || Part 2 ]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

"Good work out there, Bakugou! Its a bit late but how about we go grab some dinner together!" 

Kirishima peeked into the locker room to see Bakugou packing his Hero Costume into the metallic suitcase. The blond haired hero spared his co-worker a glance, noticing that he had already changed out of his costume before returning his attention to his unfolded clothes. The red head slowly approached his long time friend who gave no response at all. He knew. Kirishima's smile fell at Bakugou's ignorance. He already knew that the blonde wasn't going to accept any of his offers, he had done this every single day after work and he'd receive whenever he invited Bakugou out to eat or do anything.

"No, I'll pass." the male rose from the bench, carried his suitcase with him and brushed past Kirishima, keeping his head down. 

The red head watched as his co-worker trudged down the hallway, his steps a bit slow and sluggish. In the field, he was hardworking like usual, kicking ass and using his quirk to its full extent. But after the chaos in the field, he'd be silent, not saying a single word. He'd still give replies and responses but Bakugou doesn't seem like himself anymore. When Sero and Kaminari annoyed him, he'd explode and tell them to fuck off or shut up. But now, he'd just brush them off, giving a half-hearted threat. Shortly after Bakugou left, Kirishima jogged up to the blonde and matched his pace and started a conversation about today's work.

As soon as the two boys made it out of the building, they were both greeted by their former classmates, Kaminari, Ashido and Sero. The three were talking with one another not too far away from the building, dressed appropriately to hide their identities from public. Ashido was the first one to spot the two boys leaving together, waving over and calling out their names before jogging over. Both Kirishima and Bakugou stopped as the pink haired girl talked about where they should go to celebrate another successful mission. Kaminari and Ashido soon joined in, throwing in a few suggestions of their own.

"Yakiniku! A celebration calls for meat!" Kirishima raised his hand excitedly.

"How about you, Bakugou? What do ya wanna eat?" Sero turned towards the blonde who had been oddly silent the entire time.

"I don't have time for celebrations. I have places to be." Bakugou grumbled, pulling his mask to cover his mouth before walking off. The four exchanged glanced before their eyes landed on Bakugou who had left on his own. Instead of loitering about, they decided to head over to the chosen yakiniku restaurant.

"Hey. Is it me or recently, Bakugou has been rejecting all our offers to go out?" Kaminari questioned. The half cooked meat sitting on the grill was flipped over by Kirishima while the cooked ones were being picked up by Ashido who put them all on a plate. It was odd that the electric quirked hero noticed after a long time when it was clearly obvious that Bakugou is behaving out of the norm.

"Well, you can't really blame him for ditching us." Ashido huffed, adding a few slices of meat onto her plate.

For Bakugou, it was the same routine everyday. Wake up early in the morning, get ready for work, make breakfast and then go to work. At least every day, work was always different. Different villains cause mischief while he was out on patrol. There'd be some that gave him trouble but he was always partnered up with someone who assisted him in battles. After work it was the same routine, it was the same path every single day. From the agency it would be a few minutes to the station and a few stops to his destination.

The hospital. To be precise, a hospital specially for heroes which is under heavy surveillance. The receptionist recognized him almost immediately, handed him a visitor's pass before wishing him a good day. The blonde walked past the people in the hallway, paying them no heed as he walked towards his goal. Despite being in such a confusing and wide place, Bakugou has completely memorized the path to the room he wanted to go to.

”Hey, I’m back.”

Sitting on the bed, staring at the television was you. The phone on your lap was still on, indicating that you had been playing around with it earlier. As Bakugou stepped closer to the bed you were resting on, he noted that you seem to be doing much better than yesterday. It felt strange to be seeing him under such circumstances. Ever since that incident, he came to visit every day, never skipping a day. You even heard from your nurse that he asked the receptionist to extend his visiting time when he came late. He had a lot of things to say to you. Practices apologies he always revised in his head and bracing himself for the worst. That day when he said he wanted to have a talk with you, he was going to ask for forgiveness.

It's been a month since then and he still haven't conveyed his feelings. He prepared for the worst, for you to completely break up with him and move on with your own lives. Honestly, he thinks that's the most likely outcome but before that happens, he wants to tell you one more time. Bakugou wants to make sure that he gets his feelings through your head. He still loves you, even if you don't love him anymore or hate him for what he did, it doesn't matter. All he wants is for you to be happy. Clenching his fists, he looked down at his lap

"Listen, I want to—" he started, finally gathering enough confidence to talk to you.

”Aren’t you tired from work? Why don't we eat together? Mina bought me some curry, a little bit too much." you laughed softly. Bakugou raised his head, only to see you avoiding his gaze and looking out at the window.

"I don't think you've eaten. Let's eat before the food gets cold." you handed him a plastic bag that was previously placed on your bedside. 

Even though he wants to tell you, you're the one preventing him from doing so. It was obvious that you were avoiding the topic, because every single time he starts to get a bit serious, you'd change the conversation or come up with some excuse. Bakugou wanted to get mad but he couldn't because of the look in your eyes — sad and afraid. But maybe, it wasn't so bad at all. Being able to see you everyday, getting better each day and talking with you like you're both lovers again. It always made him forget about the real situation anyways. But living in this delusion wasn't good, for you and himself. You're both just denying reality and keeping things to yourselves.

After his visit, you'd be left alone to do whatever you wanted. Normally you just continue watching TV until you fall asleep but tonight, you decided to look outside. As your bed was by the window, you were able to see Tokyo's beautiful city lights and clear skies. You could see Bakugou walking alone with his disguise, a cap and a surgical mask. He seemed to be preoccupied with his phone, calling someone. At that time, you heard your own phone ring. Taking your eyes off the male, you picked up your phone. Your eyes widened when Bakugou's name flashed on the screen. Even though you both drifted apart, you still kept his name as 'Katsuki' with a heart in your contacts.

"Hello?"

"Stop staring at me. I can feel your eyes on me." he said, voice slightly muffled by the mask he was wearing. You turned quickly, seeing that Bakugou was looking at you from a distance.

"What are you talking about? You're the one staring at me. How else would you know I'm staring at you?"

"Yeah, whatever." Bakugou clicked his tongue. Honestly, it was nice that you both can joke around like you normally do again. Behind his mask, Bakugou finds himself smiling. He was worried that you hated him or something and was only putting up a front. Hearing you talk back almost feels nostalgic. At any rate, he was glad that you were behaving like your usual self.

"Take care out there. Be safe. Text me when you get back, okay?" you managed to say without stuttering.

"Yeah, you get better soon too." he said before hanging up.

When Bakugou returned to his apartment, it didn't feel that cold and uninviting anymore. He instinctively pulled out his phone and sent you a text, telling you that he made it home safely. It was odd, he never felt so nervous waiting for your response in a long time. It felt that he was back in the past where he didn't even have the courage to send a text and spent a long time thinking about what to say to you. When his phone dinged, he was already looking at it. You told him to wash up and take a break after work. In addition, you told him about how you saw him in the news today and congratulated him for defeating the villain all on his own. His heart skipped a beat at the fact that you were watching him.

Your stuff was still there, the cute little cups that you insisted on buying when you first moved in and the snacks in the pantry that you loved was untouched. Seeing them didn't make him feel sad for reminding him of you, instead, he looked forward to when you finally hears him out and move in back with him. It was a good sign but He had the day of tomorrow so he vowed to himself that he would tell you tomorrow. 

On the other hand, you sat on the hospital bed as your nurse went through your files and updated you about your condition. The entire time she was talking, you had your attention elsewhere. The only thing you were thinking was telling Bakugou something that you should've told him. It's been a month and you have yet to tell him. Exhaling a breath that you have been holding in, you looked down at your phone and texted Bakugou a goodnight while the nurse sighed. She was aware that you weren't paying attention, the file was placed on your bedside, she told you to have a look yourself before leaving.

The following day came by faster than you both expected. You woke up in the morning, ate and did your usual morning routine in the hospital. When Bakugou arrived, he came with sime of his home cooked food, something you didn't know you missed until you saw it. The two of you ate in silence while the television played whatever show in the background. It wasn't until you both finished your meal that Bakugou decided to make his move.

"Hey, I have something to say to you."

He took a deep breath in, before looking at you. He was somewhat relieved that you were actually looking at him right now instead of avoiding his eyes. Even though he said he was gonna tell you today, he was still concerned over a few things. How the hell should he start? Address the problem? Apologize first? Damn, he should've practised more! 'Fuck it!"he cursed to himself. He exhaled and decided to just do it in his own way.

"I still love you, I really do. Even if I apologize a thousand times, you might not forgive me for what I've done. I can't undo that shit. I want a second chance, begging for it would just make me look miserable and you'd be embarrassed by it. But I want you to know this. I need to tell you this before I regret just keeping quiet."

"I want another chance with you. I'll do anything it takes to earn your trust back. I just want to live with you again." he said seriously. It was obvious from his body language, eyes and tone. He was serious and to be honest, you could say that he was actually close to tears too.

"Whenever you apologize, you mean it. I know that more than anyone. If you weren't that sorry, you wouldn't be so desperate. Deep inside, I know, giving you another chance would be worth it. You're stupidly loyal after all. But, I don't think I'm the right person for you anymore. Not because you cheated on me or anything okay! It's just that—"

"You're always like that, avoiding things and dragging the conversation to avoid closure. Why can't just you just tell me what's wrong!?" 

"My legs are the problem!" you screamed back, tears streaming down your face. Your nose was red and you were sniffling. There's no doubt that you look incredibly ugly with snot dripping from your nose and haired dishevelled like you had just woken up.

"What do you mean.....? What is wrong with your legs!?"

"They're....paralyzed. Even if we can live together again, would you want someone who can't even live on their own to just bring you down?" you muttered

"You're a Pro Hero and you're needed at the site for battle! It's your dream right? To be number one? I don't want to be the one holding you back from your dream. Not when you're already so close into being top ten!"

"I want to live with you again too.....but if I'm just gonna be dead weight to you then its better if we just break things off." you sniffled, rubbing at your eyes to wipe away the tears.

Bakugou was stunned but the entire time you rambled, he remained oddly silent. He sat down in the bed, right in front of you. When you felt another weight in the bed, you raised your head to see the blonde sitting in front of you before you could question his actions, he grabbed your wrist gently and moved it away from your face.

"Hey, let me ask you one more thing." he mumbled. You sniffled but nodded anyways, wondering what he wanted.

"Do you still love me?"

That was it. The question that you have heard from your friends, whether you still love him or not, despite what he did. Your answer was the same and every time you said it, you were confident. But being face to face with Bakugou made the words die in your throat. Perhaps it was because of how emotional you are right now. 

"Y-Yes! I still do! I love you so much!" you cried. You didn't care how dishevelled you look. You didn't care about the fat globs of tears that were falling onto the blanket. At least you managed to say it.

"Then, what more of a reason do you need?"

"I'll do everything I can to support you. I'll ask the old hag to come and take care of you. Hire a personal maid or whatever. Paralyzed or whatever, I don't give a damn." he closed in the distance between the two of you, moved his hand to cup your face. Using his thumbs, he wiped away your tears and rested his forehead against your own.

"The only answer I needed was that you still love me."

Total: 2570 words Published: 28.02.2020

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ Due to unpopular demand, we finished off Malaise! Not the ending that I really wanted but I guess this will have to do. We’re almost finished with the request in the ask box and we actually have an announcement to make! We hope you enjoyed it!  ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! Here we are with the last part of Malaise We hope you liked it. We have an announcement to make tomorrow. It might be delayed but it will be tomorrow. Not much people read the announcement anyways so.....― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

January 3, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Today’s news starts yesterday, when Trump called Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger to demand he overturn the results of the presidential election in Georgia and deliver the state to Trump. Raffensperger apparently recorded the call, keeping it handy in case Trump misrepresented it publicly. This morning, Trump did exactly that, tweeting: “I spoke to Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger yesterday about Fulton County and voter fraud in Georgia. He was unwilling, or unable, to answer questions such as the ‘ballots under table’ scam, ballot destruction, out of state ‘voters’, dead voters, and more. He has no clue!” Raffensperger retweeted the president’s accusation with the comment: “Respectfully, President Trump: What you're saying is not true. The truth will come out[.]”

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution and the Washington Post both obtained a recording of the conversation and published news of the call this afternoon, revealing that Trump had asked Raffensperger to “find” the 11,800 votes Trump needed to win Georgia. In the hour-long call, the president rambled through the conspiracy theories about the election—all of which have been debunked—seeming to believe them. He insisted that there was simply no way he could have lost in Georgia, and cited the size of his rallies there as proof. Trump asked Raffensperger to adjust Georgia’s vote to give the election to Trump by a single vote, telling him that he could just say that he had recalculated.

Trump made vague threats against Raffensperger and the secretary of state’s general counsel Ryan Germany, suggesting that their unwillingness to find the ballots Trump insists are missing puts them at risk for criminal charges. He bullied them—talking over them and at one point telling Raffensperger “only a child” could believe the vote counting was fair-- and warned them that it would be their fault if the Republican candidates lost in the January 5 runoff election since “a lot of Republicans are going to vote negative, because they hate what you did to the president…. And you would be respected, really respected, if this can be straightened out before the election.”

After running through all the conspiracy theories and suggesting that Raffensperger and Germany might face criminal charges, Trump said: “So what are we going to do here folks? I only need 11,000 votes. Fellas, I need 11,000 votes. Give me a break.”

Joining Trump on the call were White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows; lawyer Cleta Mitchell, a prominent right-wing lawyer who had managed until now to keep her participation in Trump’s efforts to overturn the election quiet; and lawyer Kurt Hilbert. Meadows was more reasonable than Trump, but he, too, asked Raffensperger “to look at some of these allegations to find a path forward that’s less litigious.” (Raffensperger replied: “[w]e don’t agree that you have won.”)

Mitchell and Hilbert backed Trump and Meadows in their repeated demand for information about voters, including their voter IDs and registrations. This is voter data to which, by law, they cannot have access. (When Germany answered that the state is prohibited from sharing that information, Trump retorted: “Well, you have to.”)

University of Georgia Law Professor Anthony Michael Kreis told Politico reporters Allie Bice, Kyle Cheney, Anita Kumar, and Zach Montellaro that it is against the law in Georgia for anyone to “solicit” or “request” election fraud. “There’s just no way that… he has not violated this law,” Kreis said. Michael R. Bromwich, former inspector general of the Department of Justice, tweeted that “unless there are portions of the tape that somehow negate criminal intent,” Trump’s “best defense would be insanity.”

David Shafer, the chair of the Georgia Republican Party, tried to excuse this extraordinary conversation by tweeting that the phone call had been a “confidential settlement discussion” of two lawsuits Trump has filed against Raffensperger, and that the audio version the Washington Post published was “heavily edited and omits the stipulation that all discussions were for the purpose of settling litigation and confidential under federal and state law.”

Marc E. Elias, a lawyer leading the Biden team’s litigation efforts to counter Trump’s lawsuits over the election, knocked that explanation flat. “Trump and his allies have lost 60 post-election lawsuits, including several in GA,” he tweeted. “There are no cases that could have plausibly been the subject of settlement discussion. Oh, and I represent parties in all of those cases, so I would have had to be on the phone as well. I wasn't.”

President Richard M. Nixon resigned after his people orchestrated an attempt to bug the Democratic National Committee headquarters in the Watergate Hotel in Washington, D.C., before the 1972 election, and then covered up that burglary. What is on this recording makes the Watergate scandal look quaint. President Trump, his chief of staff, and two of his lawyers have been recorded pressuring state authorities to change vote counts so they can steal an American election. Especially considering that we know Trump pressured Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelensky to help him win in 2020, we have to assume this is not the only call like this he has made in the last several weeks.

The only more thorough attack on our democracy would involve the military and, not coincidentally, tonight all ten living former defense secretaries, including two who served under Trump, signed a letter to the Washington Post reiterating that the military should not be involved in determining the outcome of an election. They warned that any efforts to involve the military in an election dispute “would take us into dangerous, unlawful and unconstitutional territory,” and noted that any civilian or military official who either directs or carries out an order to get involved in an election “would be accountable, including potentially facing criminal penalties, for the grave consequences of their actions on our republic.”

This bombshell recording changes political calculations across the board.

Republicans have been lining up either for or against the president, showing their loyalty by backing his attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election. More than 100 House members have said they would contest Congress’s January 6 counting of the electoral votes from states Trump continues, without evidence, to claim he won. On December 30, Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) agreed to join them, at least for the state of Pennsylvania. Then, yesterday, twelve senators, led by Ted Cruz (R-TX) said they would reject the votes from all the contested states and demand an audit of the election results there. They don’t expect to change the election—the results are clear—but lawmakers backing Trump are hoping to court his voters for future elections as they try to step into the vacuum his removal from office will create.

It’s a cynical and dangerous position, and standing against them are lawmakers like Senator Mitt Romney (R-UT) and Senator Ben Sasse (R-NE), who note that the 2020 election was overwhelming and clean, and that Trump is attacking the very basis of democratic government as he tries to change the outcome of it. They are hoping to pull the Republican Party away from Trump and his followers.

The struggle between the two factions was out in the open by yesterday, and shortly before the news of the recording dropped, two Republican leaders sided against the lawmakers planning to contest the counting of the electoral votes. House of Representatives Conference Chair Liz Cheney (R-WY), who is responsible for electing the House Republican leadership and managing committee assignments and who is therefore very powerful, sent a 21-page memo to her colleagues warning that such a plan would set a dangerous precedent, enabling Congress, rather than the states, to choose the president. She concluded: [B]oth the clear text of the Constitution and the Electoral Count Act [of 1887] compel the same conclusion—there is no appropriate basis to object to the electors from any of the six states at issue.”

Former Speaker of the House Paul Ryan (R-WI) also issued a statement condemning the plan. "It is difficult to conceive of a more anti-democratic and anti-conservative act than a federal intervention to overturn the results of state-certified elections and disenfranchise millions of Americans," he wrote.

These two defections from the Trump camp were not, perhaps, surprises, but the news of this extraordinary recording now offers an opening for others to slide away from Trump. Senator Tom Cotton (R-AR), who has been a staunch supporter of the president but who seems to be trying to position himself for a presidential run in 2024, tonight also rejected his colleagues’ plan to challenge the electoral count on Wednesday. His statement split the difference between the two Republican factions. He reiterated many of the Trump camp’s talking points but, like Cheney, objected to their plan to overturn the election in Congress on the grounds that the last thing conservatives, who object to the power of the federal government, should want is a stronger Congress. Cotton's defection is a sign that the recording is undermining Trump's position.

If there is one good thing for the president in all this, it is that this stunning news has taken the media focus off the coronavirus, at least for a few hours. More than 350,000 Americans have now died of Covid-19; more than 20 million Americans have been infected. “Cases are rising, hospitalizations are increasing, deaths are increasing,” Dr. Henry Walke of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention told Tim Stelloh of NBC News. CDC Director Robert Redfield agreed, adding that the winter months “are going to be the most difficult time in the public health history of this nation.”

—- 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[buckyjustbelikethat]

Stuck in the Past: 1

Title: Stuck in the Past: Part [1/3]

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are a historian asked to help the Avengers take down a Hydra leader.

Warnings: Vulgar language, insecurity.

Word Count: approx. 2300 words

A/N: Hi lovelies! Here’s the first official chapter of the series, I hope you like it. I’ll hopefully finish the series by the end of the week since its spring break. 

Previous Chapter

It still felt a little unreal that you were currently unpacking your things in your new apartment in the avengers tower. You were glad you were safe, but you had never lived in such a nice place before. You didn’t need luxury, but when you entered your bathroom and saw the large tub you knew you would be sad when you had to leave this place at some point in the future. Sure, your king bed was nice, very comfy, but you were considering just sleeping in the tub. You took some extra time to put your clothes in your walk-in closet, though it remained mostly empty. Already in this extravagant bedroom, you were already feeling out of place. You were nervous to finally meet the team. Worried that if you already felt out of place amongst the inanimate objects, the people would be a lot worse. Sure, you admired the avengers from what you know, but you never invested too much in them, worried that they would turn out to be different than the way the media or history books portrayed them, especially when it was your job to be skeptical of those sources.

Tony told you to tell Friday when you were done settling in and he would take you up to the common floor to have you meet the other avengers. After you were done you let Friday know you were ready and within moments of leaving your bedroom and walking from your living space to the building’s elevator, you saw the elevator doors open to reveal Tony. “I hope you are okay with your room, let me know if anything’s not to your liking and I’ll have someone deal with it.”

“Everything is fine Tony, trust me, it is worlds better than anything I’m used to.” You said with a smile on your face. “Thank you.”

“It’s literally no big deal, this tower has so many empty bedrooms.”

You just nodded as you entered the elevator, and you were once again reminded of how big this tower was from the countless floor numbers displayed on a touch screen in the elevator.

“Everyone should be in the common living area, where I’ll introduce you, and then you can relax for the rest of the night and we will get to business tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You say while doing your best to hide the nerves you were feeling, hoping you were as convincing as you wanted to be.

When you got the appropriate floor, Tony led you down a hallway into the living area, and you could see all of the avengers (well most of them anyway) all scattered throughout the large room.

“Alright everyone,” he said almost sounding like a patronizing kindergarten teacher, “this is Dr. y/l/n.”

You smiled at everyone and did a quick wave, “You can just call me y/n!”

Steve walked up to you first and reached out to shake your hand “It is great to meet you y/n, we are grateful you agreed to come help.”

Slowly everyone followed, giving their own introductions, but your breath caught at the last avenger to greet you. Bucky had stayed in the background while everyone introduced themselves, and when he finally started walking up to you, you immediately cursed yourself internally. You could tell after one look that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crushing on him. The pictures you have seen of him did not do him justice, he was gorgeous.

He offered you a smile, and you could have sworn your heart stopped. Which you know was a dramatic response, but you couldn’t help how much he already affected you. He reached out to shake your hand and said, “Nice to meet you Ma’am.”

The rest of the team had stuck with your first name, but the formality sounded so sexy coming from him. You had kept your composure until this moment, feeling pretty proud that you felt like you had one this battle of social anxiety. But the moment he spoke to you, you suddenly were at a loss for words.

After hopefully not too long of a pause you finally reply, “It’s good to meet you too.”

You averted your eyes from him, worried that he if he looked into your eyes he would be able to see your attraction to him.

“We were probably going to watch a movie y/n, do you want to join?” Sam spoke up after he sensed the ending of the introductions.

You internally thanked Sam for the distraction from your surprising emotions towards Bucky, “Of course!”

Thankfully there was an open spot next to the couch Sam was sitting on, which was across the room from the place Bucky decided to sit.

“Alright I have a question for you though, which will determine whether we can be friends” he said, but you could hear the humor seeping from his voice. “Do you want to watch a horror movie, or comedy?”

You didn’t even have to think of your response and quickly said, “Comedy, I don’t do horror movies.” You hoped that was the “right answer” for Sam, but after a day like today, and with people you just met, horror movies were not an option for you.

You could immediately see Sam’s grin. As he yelled “Yes! Ha, in your face Natasha. I like you already.” He said as he leaned over to hug you, and his energy was infectious.

You laughed, but apologized to Natasha hoping you didn’t offend her in any way, she just rolled her eyes at Sam in reply.

“Don’t worry about it y/n, don’t let Sam fool you though, you will realize pretty quickly how annoying he is.”

He just grinned as he chose the specific movie he seemed to have been hoping to watch. The movie went well, you think it helped to be in a setting like this soon after meeting everyone. You did not have to worry about saying the right thing, but you were able to see everyone relaxed and laughing every once and while. You already felt more at ease around the team, seeing they weren’t as scary as you had been fearing. Despite how welcomed you felt by everyone, Bucky was distracting you throughout the whole movie, making you simultaneously glad and frustrated that you said comedy. Bucky didn’t really laugh out loud at anything, he had more of a quiet laugh, and you would strain to hear it in the funny parts. Not having any idea Bucky was as enamored with you as you were with him.

The next morning when you went to the meeting with the team, you entered the room and were thankfully there were a few empty seats left while you waited for everyone else to show up. You chose the seat farthest from Bucky. Sam was in the room as well as Steve and you started up a conversation with the both of them, asking how there morning had been so far. You still felt so nervous to say anything to Bucky, you tried to include him in the conversation but the moment you went to speak to him, it was like all logic left your brain. You’d start fumbling over your words, but with Steve and Sam it was so easy to reply to their comments, always asking them a follow up question to keep the conversation going. They all were telling you about their run this morning, Sam complaining about how annoyed he still was that he couldn’t keep up with the two of them.

You laughed and replied, “Don’t worry Sam, I’m sure how you feel running with them, I’d feel running with you.”

Bucky felt so nervous around you, he was sure that he was good enough at masking his emotions to not make it apparent, but the moment you had walked into the room yesterday he couldn’t take his eyes off you. And fuck, when he first heard your laugh during the movie he had sworn he had never heard a more beautiful sound. Bucky knew he was screwed, because by the looks of it, he started to feel like you were avoiding him. You weren’t rude, he wasn’t sure if you would even be capable of that, but you didn’t joke with him the way you had already started to with the rest of the team. When you would speak to him it felt like a formality, a pre-rehearsed script void of any true emotion. He didn’t understand why, but maybe you were familiar with who he was, after all you were a WWII historian, maybe you were afraid of him, or didn’t find him as redeemable as the rest of the team tried to convince him he was. During the meeting with the team, he felt hypnotized by you. When you started speaking to the rest of the team about your research, he could see the passion behind your eyes. As the meeting progressed, he almost started to feel angry, not only did you have to be so beautiful and kind, but your intelligence was the nail in his coffin.

“How do you feel about y/n?” Steve asked him when the meeting was over.

 “She seems great, really helpful for taking down this guy.” Bucky replied, hiding his attraction towards you.

“Mhmm” Steve replied, his tone laced with skepticism that that’s all Bucky had to say about you. Steve could see the way he watched you, and he wasn’t blind to your nervousness around Bucky that showed that his feelings were returned. But he decided to not pressure Bucky into talking about it yet.

A few days had passed, and Bucky still felt like you didn’t talk to him the same way you spoke to the rest of the team, but he still couldn’t help himself from continuing to fall for you. In the morning the team was informed that you decided to cook everyone breakfast. Bucky laughed finally realizing why he had caught you asking everyone about their favorite breakfast food the night before. 

The team started trickling in and grabbing a plate of food to sit at the table in their communal kitchen. “I hope you like it!” Y/n said with slight nervousness but mostly excitement as you grabbed a plate yourself and then noticed that the only seat left was the one besides Bucky. Bucky could see the smile almost fall from your face before you caught yourself. When you sat down, everyone started thanking you for breakfast and complimenting your cooking. Bucky was surprised that when the team started having side conversations or were too busy stuffing their face, you decided to start a conversation with him.

“How was your morning Bucky?” You asked trying so hard to speak to him the way you talks to anyone else. Convincing yourself that though you know you probably don’t have a chance at being with him, it definitely won’t happen if your too nervous to even speak to him.

“It was good, how was yours?”

“Amazing, I really enjoy cooking, and I wanted to have a way of thanking everyone for letting me stay in the tower.”

“You know that’s not necessary, you are already helping us enough, you know that right?” He says with a compassionate smile.

“I know, but it’s still nice. Do you like the waffles? I made them for you, Steve told me they were your favorite.”

Even though he already knew the breakfast was made based on what they liked, the fact that you made them for him made him so happy.

“They’re great, thank you so much, probably the best I’ve ever had.”

You laughed hard at what he said, “You don’t have to lie to me Buck.” Catching yourself too late at the nickname you called him, hoping you didn’t cross any lines. You had heard Steve sometimes refer to him that way, but you weren’t sure if that was reserved to just his best friend.

He quelled your worrying when he chuckled as he replied, “I’m not lying, they really are great y/n.”

Once again, Sam came in to rescue your before you could make a fool out of yourself when he asked Bucky a question. This was the first time he had called you by your name and the way the it sounded coming out of his mouth made your mind once again draw blank. You really needed to gain control of your emotions.

When the team finished eating, you started to clean everything up. As you started washing the dishes, you heard Bucky’s voice from behind you, “Do you mind if I help?”

“Sure, you can dry them and put them away, I’m not really sure where they go anyway.”

“Sounds good.”

He grabbed a towel and started helping you, and when you realized they were the only ones left in the kitchen, your nerves that you tried to work through while at the table, were back. You no longer had the safety of the rest of the team. You had no way to escape him, you had no way to escape your emotions.

Bucky had noticed a shift in you again, it seems the tenseness that seemed absent while you were talking earlier returned. He suddenly started feeling insecure again, worrying that your nerves came back because they are in a room alone together, and around the team you maybe were able to trust in your safety more, but now your judgements of him had no refuge. He felt horrible, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he kept to his words and helped you finish the dishes, they thankfully didn’t take much time to finish up.

You were avoiding eye contact with him again as you thanked him for helping you. Though there was a smile on your face, he felt like you not even wanted to make eye contact confirmed his suspicions that you truly were fearful around him, and he decided that from now on he would try to leave you alone.

Next Chapter

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20,  Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24 Chapter 25

"You alright down there?"

She shouted gruffly. "Fine. Except this flux isn't bonding the way it should."

"Mind if I come down?" Kaleb asked as he saw the flickering torch lights coming from the open doorway.

"Bring me a pint when you do."

"Lager or mead?"

"I don't care. Either will do," she said in a noticeably annoyed tone.

Kaleb knew that she was in the zone with her work, and any disturbances would only serve to piss her off even more. After leaving some coin for the tab, he helped himself to two tall steins of lager. When he took them to the new workstation, Amalthia was sitting on the bench, donning her welding goggles and completely absorbed in whatever it was she was working on.

"Over there by the soldering table," she said pointing towards the wooden table.

"Dammit!" She angrily threw down her welding torch, shut down the outflow valve then pulled off her goggles and tossed them to the edge of the bench.

Kaleb handed her a stein. He took a sip as well from his own.

"At the risk of getting my head bit off, whatcha working on?" He asked.

She walked over, took the stein from the table then gulped it down as if she were dying of thirst.

"I'm sorry, Kal. Didn't mean to sound crabby. It's just I'm getting walloped by something that I usually have no trouble figuring out. For some reason, this flux is just not bonding properly to the metal."

He walked over then began massaging her shoulders. "I hate seeing you stressed like this. Hey. I was going to give this to you yesterday, but I figured you were too busy to be bothered."

Kaleb handed her an envelope that was written in charr pictograms. Amalthia took the letter, opened it and a smile suddenly crept across her face.

"It's from my warband! They've been asking how I've been doing and whether or not I plan on rejoining them." She folded the letter then handed it to Kaleb as her smile faded just as quickly as it appeared.

He fumbled with the parchment then asked her. "So does that mean you plan on going back to them?"

Amalthia grabbed hold of Kaleb's hand and stroked it in reassurance. "No. Like you, I am now a free agent. My place from here on out will always be with you. So don't worry."

"But don't your people frown on that sort of thing? You know... turning your back on your comrades in arms?"

Amalthia shook her head. "It's not like that. They would respect my decision given the circumstances. In fact, I probably can keep my suffix name of Steelblade if I do go as a free agent. But no matter what happens, they will always be my brothers and sister in arms."

Her mate's face suddenly brightened. "Hey! How about we do a big meetup between your warband and my comrades. I'm sure Cynth and Brad would love to meet your crew."

"Um. We aren't ausarans. Only they have krewes," she said mockingly.

Kaleb playfully thumped her on one of her horns. "What's with you and the homophones?"

"It's my duty to make your life as entertaining as possible," she gently cuffed him on the face with her clawed hand.

The two lovers embraced in a kiss as their passion became more intense. Kaleb began to completely disrobe when Amalthia stopped him.

"Hold it, tiger. I'm still tired, sweaty and very cranky from this project. I'll be in the mood once I get cleaned up and dressed into something more appropriate." She smiled then gave him an affectionate lick on the side of his face.

"Anyway, I think having our 'crews' meeting up would be a wonderful idea. It might take a week or two to get things arranged, but I'm sure they would be thrilled to meet your people," she said as she tucked the letter into her pocket.

Since their stay at Ulfgar's, the couple had become practically celebrities among the people who patronized the tavern. Everyone clamored to talk to and be entertained by the human and charr who openly professed their affection for each other.

After the two had cleaned up and got dressed for a day on the town, they headed downstairs to the main bar. As always, Ulfgar was there to greet them.

"Top of the mornin' to ye, youngsters," the big norn said while holding up a tall mug of ale in a salutary fashion.

Both of them responded in unison. "Hey Ulf."

Kaleb and Amalthia sat next to each other on the bar-stools and each ordered a half-pint of lager. Kaleb was the first to drink his down.

"I wonder when Ari will have those outfits done for us," he wondered while stroking his mate's long golden mane.

Amalthia turned to him and said in a soothing voice as she stroked his arm with her pawed hand. "They should be ready sometime tomorrow. Hey. While we are in Lion's Arch, I would like to do a bit of research."

"Oh? What kind of research?"

"Those life commitment rituals your people call marriages."

Ulfgar let out a hearty laugh.

"What's so funny?" Kaleb and Amalthia asked simultaneously.

The mighty norn leaned down and crossed his arms on the table as he looked at his two dearest friends.

"The one force nothing on the face of Tyria can stop. I meant no disrespect to either of ya. But seeing the evolution of this amazing occurrence brings warmth to this old norn's heart."

"I would love to hear about how your people perform their life commitment rituals," Amaltha stated.

Ulfgar held his arms aloft and grinned. "The traditions of our people are carried in spoken word and written form. As a matter of fact, a cousin of mine is having a handfasting with his beloved in the next month. I would be honored if the two of ye attended."

Kaleb stood up then bowed in respect. "It would be my honor, Ulfgar."

"This is an honor, sir. Thank you." Amalthia saluted then bowed as well.

"You are both most welcome. Oh. Kaleb - I almost forgot. There's a letter for ya," Ulfgar said as he reached under the counter and pulled out an envelope. "It arrived first thing this morning."

After Ulfgar handed him the envelope, Kaleb saw that his father addressed it.

I wonder what this is about, he thought as he opened it.

Upon reading his father's letter, Kaleb looked up at Amalthia and Ulfgar and said in a slightly distressed voice. "My sister, Rachel, has been accepted into the Asuran College of Synergetics. They plan on throwing a going away bash tonight."

Amalthia's ears flattened. "So are you going?"

"Why should I? After what she did to me, I don't owe that kid a minute more of my time." Kaleb crumpled the letter in disgust then threw it on the table.

Ulfgar looked at the wadded piece of paper then back at his longtime friend. He sighed as he bowed his head.

"We norns tell of heroic deeds and epic struggles on the battlefield. But even our people face some of the fiercest, most heartbreaking battles of all - the ones that occur under the roofs of our own homes."

"You've had backstabbing siblings too?" Kaleb asked as Ulfgar handed him back the crumpled piece of paper.

"Lad. Some of the most grievous wounds inflicted upon the heart are the ones given by those closest to us. Hell, I remember a time when my own brother left me for dead after my great hunt. He was jealous over the fact that my deed had won over the heart of one of the most beautiful lass in all of the Shiverpeaks. It took him over three decades to forgive me of that transgression," the old norn said somberly.

"It's so hard to do, Ulf. I mean it was my sister who was responsible for me getting kicked out of the house," Kaleb said angrily.

"No, lad. She only revealed a truth that would have eventually come out in the end. As painful as it was for you, it was a necessary step in your relationship with Amalthia. Perhaps your sister is afraid of something or someone."

"Rachel's always been the perfect little angel, always going to church to look good in the eyes of her mother. I mean, she seems to get a free pass when she's all gaga over that asuran boyfriend of hers. Yet when I mention having a relationship with a charr, my whole family goes to pieces. It's really not fair, yanno?"

Amalthia held Kaleb's hand and smiled. "Kaleb. I think I may know why your sister may be such a brat."

"Oh? You never met her and how would your people know anything about how my people behave in situations like that?" Kaleb observed as he clasped his hands with hers.

"Listen. Hate is a universal principle. It sounds like your sister deeply resents your mother. Trust me, I know this. One day, I would like to talk to members of your family so they can get to know me better."

"My youngest sister would probably love you because she would think you are cute and cuddly. But Rachel... she's an entirely different story altogether. And my mom... I'm afraid she would lose it if she saw you. I'm sorry Amalthia, I just don't think my family is ready for you at this time," Kaleb said somberly.

She nuzzled him. "It's okay. I understand. Like I said before - one step at a time."

"One step at a time, then." Kaleb kissed her on the cheek.

Evening had arrived as Kaleb was walking down the street that led to the place where he was born and raised. He asked Amalthia to remain at Ulf’s since this was a matter that he had to resolve with his own family. Once he neared his former homestead, he heard a faint commotion coming from the barn. Curious about the noise, he changed his course to investigate.

Moaning sounds were coming from one of the spare stalls just on the other side of where he was standing. When he took a lantern to check out what was going on, he looked down and noticed several sheets were sprawled out atop the haystack. In the center, two large lumps began wiggling as groans of pleasure emanated from them. Seconds later, the sheets were flung back revealing the faces of an older man and a much younger woman.

"Uncle Will? Trish?!"

Kaleb's ex-girlfriend saw his dark eyes and hair illuminated by the amber glow of the light. As soon as she saw him she jerked the sheets over her exposed breasts.

"Kaleb... just what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with that charr girlfriend of yours?"

"Trish, Trish. Why does seeing you naked in a hay barn with my uncle, no less, somehow not surprise me? How much lower could you stoop?" Kaleb shot back.

"Kaleb, I..."

"Don't say anything more, uncle. She's just making you feel twenty years younger so she can talk you into marrying her. Am I right?"

Moments later, a barn cat ambled by as it came up to Will Grimwald, begging for a scratch on the neck. But as he began stroking the cat's chin, Patricia abruptly grabbed the feline by the scruff of the neck.

"Screw you, you feline fornicator! Here. Is this what you like making love to? Cause here... have some more pussy!"

Patricia flung the hapless cat through the air as it careened into a hard wood panel of the stall. Unfortunately, Kaleb had no time to react fast enough to catch it. He saw the limp body of the innocent creature and his face suddenly filled with rage. With lightning-fast reflexes he drew his sword then lunged straight towards his ex.

"I would take your head off right where your slutty body lies. What say you now, whore!?" Kaleb was now a force of vengeance.

His uncle was quivering in fear, but managed enough courage to say something. "Kaleb, please. This was all a misunderstanding. I... I cannot believe you did that to the cat, Trish. You had no right to do that to Fredricka."

"What? You were about to propose to me and all you care about is a damn cat?"

Kaleb's rage boiled over. He grabbed the lantern then hovered it just in front of his face revealing his maniacal visage.

"I've offed worthless people like you before. The next time I see your sack-sucking face around here again, I swear I'll have your head mounted on my wall!" He pushed the edge of his sword unto her neck until it drew a slight trickle of blood. When his ex got up very quickly to leave, the man she had been sleeping with jerked back and commented on how the sheets got wet. Kaleb deduced that he must have quite literally scared the piss out of her.

Once the former girlfriend had departed, Kaleb helped his wayward uncle to his feet.

"I can only say that I'm a little disappointed in you, uncle. I just hope she doesn't come back a couple of months later saying that thing in her belly is yours."

Will looked up at his nephew with shame. "I'm so sorry Kal. She said she loved me and wanted me to marry her. I guess I was just a lonely, old man who was desperately seeking companionship."

Nearby, a slight mewing sound could be heard. Kaleb looked over to see that Fredricka was still alive.

"If you don't mind, uncle, I'm taking the cat. She will be much safer with Amalthia and I anyway."

"Take her, please. It was my fault that all of this happened in the first place."

Kaleb picked up the injured feline then gently tucked her into the crook of his arm.

"I've got to go. This night didn't turn out at all as I expected."

His uncle looked up and asked. "Are you still going to Rachel's college acceptance party?"

"Hardly. Given what just happened, I believe that I'll even be less welcome than I already am. Besides, I saw Trish heading towards the family house. No doubt she's spreading more lies about me... well except for the part where I threatened to kill her for doing this to the poor cat. Please enlighten my dad to that fact in case they believe the lie that I just randomly threaten people without good reason," Kaleb said as he departed from the barn while carrying Fredricka in his coat.

***

Over an hour later, Kaleb was back at the tavern showing off the newly rescued feline to everyone. When Amalthia examined the injured animal, she immediately began scrounging for some medical supplies.

"She appears to have a fractured tibia judging by the way she reacts. I'll make a splint. Just give me about five minutes and I'll have something that should help mend the bones properly," Amalthia said as she began salvaging some metal stirring sticks then took them to her workshop to fashion a makeshift splint.

Kaleb took the cat with him being careful to shield her eyes from the flickering blue welding flame. He, then, gently tucked their new charge into a set of sheets at the foot of their bed.

Once Amalthia was done with the splint, she fastened it onto Fredricka then began stroking the creature until it was fast asleep. Kaleb kissed his mate on the cheek then covered the lower half of the cat's body in a knitted shawl.

"I think she'll be fine. Thanks m'dear for crafting that for her."

Amalthia shook her head. "You never told me what happened to the poor thing."

"A vengeful ex happened. I caught her and my uncle in the act and she got pissed, grabbed the cat and threw it against the side of the barn wall." Kaleb's face grew red with anger over replaying the incident in his head.

"Did you lop her head off? I sure would have."

"I came damn close. But she pissed the sheets in fear. For me, that was satisfaction enough."

"I can do her real slow if you like. Go for the kneecaps then work my way up."

Kaleb shook his head disapprovingly. "No dear. A charr killing a human in that manner would only validate bigotry. That little tramp is not worth the powder or the lead in a single cartridge. One way or another, she'll get what's coming to her."

"I gather you didn't make it to your sister's whatever-it-was party."

"Nah. Given what had happened, I don't think I'm going to be exactly welcomed by my family at this time. I just hope my father and uncle see Trish for the person she really is." Kaleb bowed his head as he rubbed his temples, hoping to alleviate an oncoming headache.

"I wrote back to my warband and invited them over to our place this weekend. Didn't you say that Brad and Cynthia would be joining up as well?" Amalthia queried.

Kaleb nodded. "Yup. They'll all be here - pretty much everyone from my unit."

"I hope it'll take your mind off all that's happened." His mate licked him on the forehead then rested her head atop his.

"What will we do with this little girl? I would love to keep her but the two of us are usually gone so much of the time," Kaleb asked.

"Would Ulfgar take him? He seems to love animals."

"He told me that he's allergic to cats. Loves dogs, though."

"Waait... I know..." Amalthia was about to say when Kaleb interjected.

"Ludrick. Of course! I'm sure your old man... err, charr... would love this little gal as a companion."

Amalthia massaged the back of Kaleb's head using her long claws. "Well. We can make plans to see him tomorrow if you like. Don't worry; he's forgiven you for what happened. The only problem may be that he's not forgiven himself for what he did to you."

"It doesn't matter. I understand your father's reasons for doing what he did. Let's call this a peace offering."

"You think your ex will press charges?" Amalthia queried offhand.

Kaleb shook his head. "She has no proof anything happened. Plus, if she did then she would have to hear my testimony of how she not only abused an animal but also pissed on herself and my uncle. The humiliation alone would be enough to deter her from doing anything."

"I hope you're right, love." She kissed him and he returned the favor with a passionate kiss of his own.

"Hey. Our outfits are going to be ready by tomorrow, right?"

Amalthia nodded.

"Good! Then maybe we can both spend some time doing some research into the marriage thing. That is, after we drop our little friend off here at your father's."

The two lovers headed to bed then drifted off to a deep and peaceful sleep as their charge curled up between them and purred loudly in contentment. For the first time in her existence, Fredricka was in a place where she was both safe and loved.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 25 is posted here.)

[lost-stargazer-girl]

|| A Step at a Time||

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: eventual!OCxOikawa

Word Count for this Chapter: 2054

*Author’s note and other chapters listed at the end*

Chapter 3: Shadow’s Mark

She is always hiding. Not in the conventional sense of course, though many often ponder what “conventional” could mean in this day and age where the impossible can become reality. The girl learns the importance of masks, their necessity for her survival in a world where many often see through children instead of at them and their suffering. She, in turn, allows herself to melt into the background and observe. “Children are like sponges,” as the saying goes. The girl embraces this, lives by it, and becomes it. 

Babies, the girl learns, are the only true things in the world. They express themselves freely, never hesitating to scream and cry or laugh and smile. She envies them. The girl, Akane, doesn’t remember ever being that carefree. Was there a time when she didn’t have to worry about appearances? Expectations? She doesn’t remember and so, she moves on.

Children, Akane muses, are brats. Most don’t know how to control or identify their emotions. Well, most. Akane is five when she witnesses a child having a tantrum in the toy section of her grocery store. She is shopping for her family while her parents are preoccupied at work. She’s never been in the toy section and doesn’t really see the appeal, to be completely honest. She would rather spend that money on food and snacks, her parents never let her have snacks or candy like most kids get. 

Teenagers, she grates within her mind, are some of the most arrogant and aggravating stains in the world. Akane is playing tag in the park with the olive-eyed boy, Hajime, when two pretentious teenagers trip her to the floor as she is running. “Oh?” one of the boys mockingly muse, “the little princess tripped! Her poor appearance is ruined now!” The boys start to laugh at her as she rises from the ground and dusts herself off. She gazes at them for a moment, long enough for them to stop laughing and smirk at her as their eyebrows raise in a challenge. Akane only flashes blindingly white teeth in a disarming smile as she kicks both of the boys in their jewels and walks away as the boys crash to the ground to groan and yell. She has better things to do, she thought, as she catches a glimpse of brown, spiky hair running toward her. 

Adults, young and old, are confusing. So many say one thing but do another, she notes. With a steady crimson gaze, Akane watches the various behaviors of those in the park. Hajime is not there to play with her but that’s okay, she can keep herself busy. Adults are more controlled, she realizes. But that makes their tells all the more obvious to her. She observes smiles and eyes and eyebrows and the entire facial and body expressions of each and every adult she could in the park. She discerns fake smiles from real smiles, a flash of joy in the eyes to the flash of anger, and so on until she is able to completely read whoever she sees. It’ll come in handy for her, she knows. 

… 

Oikawa Tooru feels annoyance buzz through him as if it were a second skin. While he still flounces through the halls with his million dollar smile and greets his fangirls with the usual amount of enthusiasm and encouragement, he boils from within. There are very few things that Oikawa lets bother him to this extent, and this situation is a big one.  

As he bounds to his homeroom class, Oikawa passes by Iwa-chan. “IWA-CHAN,” he pouts, “why didn’t you wait for me today so we could walk to school like we usually do? Where were you at practice yesterday and this morning? You know as my vice-captain, now that our third years are graduating, we need to show our dedication to the sport and be good role models to our kohai!” The brunette finishes his rant and takes a deep breath. He places his hands on his hips and stares imploringly at his best friend, the source of his current distress. 

Iwa-chan only stares at Oikawa with a deathly calm stare. “Get out of my way,” he grunts and walks past the gaping brunette, making sure to hit Oikawa’s shoulder with his own. The setter could only stare after his best friend’s back in complete confusion. He hadn’t done anything to evoke such a response from Iwa-chan. The olive-eyed boy may have a gruff and rude manner towards him, but he’s never been dismissive. Iwa-chan knows Oikawa hates nothing more, not even Kageyama or Ushiwaka, than to be dismissed. 

Clenching his hands into fists, Oikawa struts off to his homeroom. Fine, he thinks bitterly, if Iwa-chan wants to be that way, then so be it. His irritation had not lessened throughout the day, only increasing with the rumors of that girl still going around and the absence of his best friend. 

The last bell of the day rang. Oikawa stays in his seat until the rest of his class leaves, waving and shouting words of farewell to the appropriate people. With the classroom now empty, the setter allows himself a sigh of aggravation as he slumps in his seat and crosses his arms irritably. He needs to get a grip before practice. As captain and the “goofball” of the Seijou volleyball club, he needs to be able to maintain his cheerful attitude. Oikawa takes a few deep breaths before slapping his face with his hands and smiles. He collects his items and bounds off for the changing rooms. 

… 

Akane Kagami grimaces slightly at the broad back of one Iwaizumi Hajime. She trails after him on her crutches slowly, knowing he would notice if she tries to escape. The view of the gym becomes closer and closer, along with Kagami's growing anxiety. The black haired girl timidly taps her friend's back, "Haji, do I really have to come? I can just wait for you at the bench by the entrance gate, it's fine with me." The girl is frantically attempting to convince the male that this whole event is completely. 

Hajime stops and turns to Kagami, he regards her for a moment before quirking up an unimpressed brow, "You and I both know I'm not dragging you to my practice just because it's convenient. I would've just walked you home and walked back here, it doesn't bother me one bit. But the thing between you and Shittykawa has got to stop." Kagami watches as he turns back around and resumes striding towards the gym. It's a little funny how much more ominous the building becomes to her. "And plus," he continues gruffly, "I promised to take care of you, I'm not gonna let my asshole of a best friend bully and demean you. You do enough of that to yourself anyway." 

The girls stops abruptly and stares after Hajime as he continues on his way to the gym, still processing his words. She squeaks suddenly before blushing a bright shade of crimson, nearly matching her intense eye color, and stumbles off to catch up to the boy as best she could on crutches. Hajime stops walking when he reaches the entrance door of the gym, having already changed before meeting up with the red eyed girl, and waits for Kagami to catch up. She does so, huffing irritably up at him. 

“Can you walk without those yet,” he questions, eyes going towards the instruments of pain holding her up. “It won’t really be a problem, but I don’t want you to slip on the gym floors.”

Kagami rolls her eyes and hisses, “I told you I can walk without them for short distances, you just won’t let me.” Crutches are a pain, especially when one doesn’t fix them by adding cushions and such like Kagami. She hates her crutches in every way possible, even if they do help with her upper body strength. She likes being able to help herself, having others do things for her is a blow to her pride. Kagami only relies on herself and a very small amount of people, including Hajime. 

Flashes of a small room filled with shadows and a small, lonely girl looking in a mirror make her wince. Kagami shakes her head desperately to ward the images from her mind as a callused hand gently grabs her scarred one and squeezes in reassurance. Her eyes shoot up to meet the steady ones of Hajime. She idly notices how a small beam of sunlight manages to shine in his eyes for a split second before he blinks at the sudden brightness. It is only for a second, but Kagami is left in awe at the kaleidoscope of colors the olive eyes hold. Shades of forest, mint, chocolate, and gold are revealed in that split second and leaves her breathless. She squeezes back and drops his hand, gesturing towards the door with a swipe of her palm and a determined gaze. Hajime grins wickedly at her before confidently pushing the gym door.

The bright lights of the gym blind Kagami for a moment, causing the girl to blink rapidly before placing both crutches in one hand and limping inside. She has her black gym shoes with gold highlights on, she rarely ever has a chance to use them since moving back to Miyagi from Tokyo. The nostalgic sounds of volleyballs being spiked and shoes squeaking on the gym floors hit Kagami and causes a smile to light up her normally disinterested features. As Hajime enters before her, calls of his family name begin to ring out in greeting along with the sounds of volleyball practice. However, as she steps inside, the sounds stop. 

Kagami’s palms begin to shake as her nerves get the better of her. While she’s a fairly confident person now compared to her childhood years, she still has problems being the center of so many gazes. Especially when those gazes belong to giants that could possibly cause her arms to break off if she tries receiving their spikes. Quickly scanning the boys with a practiced eye, the girl shakes off her distress and bows in front of them with her hands crossed on her legs respectfully. “Pardon the intrusion,” she exclaims. “Please continue your practice and disregard my presence!” Silence reigns after her introduction as Kagami continues to bow. 

“Oi,” Kagami glances up as she hears Hajime irritably huff at the gawking boys. “Stop slacking off and get to work already, we’ve got to be ready for the Inter-High in couple of months and for any incoming first years!” The girls releases a sigh of relief as the comforting sound of practice resumes around her, that was pretty awkward. She straightens and sends a small smile towards Hajime as the boys turns to look at her from his protective stance a few steps in front of the girl. He grins back in response and sends her a thumbs up. 

“Well, well, well, Iwa-chan,” a silken voice purrs behind Hajime. “You’re not one to bring girls to practice, what a surprise.” Kagami watches in fascination as irritation extinguishes the fondness in her friend’s eyes and a vein begins to show its appearance. She glances down and yeup, Hajime’s hands are clenched so harshly that his fists have whitened. “Well, Iwa-chan? Aren’t ya going to introduce me to your girl-- ITAI!~” Hajime whirls so fast that the other boy has no time to dodge the fist coming his way. “Mean, Iwa-chan,” the boy exclaims as he grips his head soothingly. The boy, tears building in his eyes, sniffs pretentiously at Hajime before tilting his head slightly to look at the girl. Kagami, already knowing who the boy is, stiffens in response and waits for it. It takes a second for Oikawa Tooru to realize just who he is gazing at, but Kagami sees the shine of recognition gradually enter his eyes. Along with the rage. “What is this,” he seethes, whirling towards Hajime with flashing eyes and a gritted smile. 

Kagami winces at both the vehement tone and the sound of her friend’s fist finding its home on the top of Oikawa-senpai’s head. “This,” Hajime responds with matching venom, digging his knuckles more harshly into the brunette’s head as if he could smash manners into it, “is Akane Kagami, Shittykawa. A close childhood friend of mine, so you better damn well treat her nicely.”

*Author’s Note*

AHHHHH~ Sorry this chapter took so long to be posted *prayer hands* I hope you guys enjoy reading it as it is my longest chapter yet. Some of it may seem like it’s pretty unnecessary but I thought they were pretty relevant to knowing more about Kagami’s character hehe!

P.S. Can y’all let me know if I’m linking the chapter’s right? It looks right but idk *shrugging motion*

~ Prologue ~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~