#in the mean time I might get some cheap headbands

[haorev]

Big yearning for the hair covering times

I haven’t been able to cover my hair in anyway for like a year and a half and I miss it so much. I’m trying to decide if I can afford an adjustable no-slip headband and a scarf from Wrapunzel right now (ok I can but I have other financial things that I may or may not be able to make work with this as well yknow) because I want to at least do half-wraps, but my hair is getting long enough that I could probably do full wraps without needing a full shaper.

I just miss it so much

[luc606]

Seven doesn’t understand you. Or, rather, he understands you too well. He knows what it’s like to be stubborn and want the best from people only to be disappointed. He knows what it’s like to wait for something that never comes.

- i just wanted to write about cutting saeyoung's hair don't mind me pairing: Saeyoung/MC (gender neutral 2nd person) canon 707 route timeline read on ao3

Seven doesn’t remember his last haircut. He’s sure he got fed up with his hair falling into his eyes and drove to a random cheap salon. He’s sure he paid in cash, that he tipped plenty, that he barely spoke to the hairdresser. He thinks he might have thought about sending a selfie to the RFA chatroom, but he’s sure that he decided against it. He knows that there were times before, when he was deep in hiding and in work from the agency, where he cut his own hair. He’s learned not to trust himself with it, though.

His last haircut must have been at least a few months ago—before the hacker, the apartment, and the fight with V. Before you.

Seven’s hair has grown unruly, falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. Deep in his work tracing the hacker, he pushes his bangs back with his headphones like a makeshift headband. He’s sure that he looks ridiculous and hopes that you don’t wake up to see him like this. It doesn’t occur to him that he shouldn’t care what you think of how he looks.

You’re curled up on the couch, asleep. Seven recalls, with some indignation, the declaration you made before staying on the couch. How you accused him of not getting enough rest, how you refused to go to bed until he took a break.

The fight ended in a stalemate and then in soft breaths from the couch beside him. You had fallen asleep, phone in hand, watching him work.

Seven doesn’t understand you. Or, rather, he understands you too well. He knows what it’s like to be stubborn and want the best from people only to be disappointed. He knows what it’s like to wait for something that never comes. The frustration lies in the fact that your stubbornness rivals his own.

He sighs, rubs his eyes, and removes his headphones. This keeps happening—his thoughts building and building until he finds himself unable to continue working.

Fine. He owes it to you to take a break.

Seven ruffles his hair back into place. He washed it earlier and it air-dried, revealing the little cupid curls that he thinks make him look boyish and cute. The way his red hair coils around the nape of his neck reminds him of how adorable his brother was when they were both little. It also reminds him of the passage of time and of the mother who gave him the curls in the first place. The overall effect is bittersweet, like anything else within reach of Saeyoung Choi.

There’s a slight change in the pattern of your breaths, then Seven sees you shift, dropping your phone to your lap and rubbing sleep from your eyes. Seriously. It’s like you’ve got sixth sense just for him. He hadn’t even made a noise.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, barely a whisper. He doesn’t sell it, though. He wishes you would go all the way to the bed on the other side of the room and curl up out of his sight. Then, at least, maybe he would be able to concentrate.

You make a sound that’s somewhere in-between a groan and a huff. You’re not fully awake yet, but you’re awake enough to be disagreeable.

“Seriously…” Seven rolls his eyes. It’s almost funny, the lengths you’re going to just to spite him. He wishes he had it in him to laugh and call you silly. Caring for him to the point of exhaustion seems completely absurd.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You pick up your phone again, frowning at the screen. It’s nearly four in the morning. You’ve been asleep on the couch for two hours. “You’re taking a break, though.”

In a way, you’ve got what you wanted. Seven is resting his eyes and stretching his neck. You’re probably thinking that it’s better than nothing and counting a tiny win for yourself.

Seven sighs again, fluffing his curls out of his face with a shaking hand. He can’t imagine he’d be able to sleep even if he had the time. 

“Is your hair bothering you?” Your voice is softer than usual, more timid. Seven recognizes an unfamiliar trepidation and cringes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for shouting at you earlier. “You mentioned in the chatroom before…” You trail off, worrying your hands in your lap. “About needing to cut your hair.”

“It’s fine,” Seven says. “Don’t worry about it.” He feels a bit like a robot, programmed to self-isolate. He’s got a limited number of useful phrases; go away, leave me alone, don’t worry about me, I’m fine, let it go…

“I could trim it if you want. It really wouldn’t take long.” You straighten on the couch, squaring your shoulders at him. “It would be easier to work without hair in your eyes.”

As much as Seven wants to turn you down again, he sees the utility of it. His hair really is a nuisance, and the sensory overload of it is impeding his work.

“Fine,” he says, before he can change his mind. “Sure.”

You’re off the couch in an instant, flying to turn the lights in the living room back on. He can tell by the way you hide your face that you’re trying not to look too surprised that he’s accepted your offer. You don’t say anything as you pull a chair into the bathroom and a pair of haircutting scissors out of the sink cabinet. Seven follows, mesmerized by how quickly and effectively you spring into action. It’s like you’re a kitten, leaping from the shadows onto an unsuspecting ball of yarn.

Briefly, Seven wonders whether the haircutting scissors are yours or Rika’s. He’s already decided that it doesn’t matter when you say, “These are mine,” as if you’ve read his mind.

“Do you cut your own hair?” he asks.

You nod. “I trim my own bangs.”

Seven chuckles, a little of his old self coming back to him in his nervousness. “So, I’m in good hands, then?”

When you smile, Seven realizes that he’s missed seeing you at ease. It’s not as though it’s been very long since he’s seen your smile, but, still, he realizes that he’s been longing for it. Even when you’re right in front of him, he can feel the distance he’s put between the two of you. It’s an oppressive feeling of loneliness, like being lost in space with limited oxygen supply.

“Of course,” you say, playfully snipping the air, “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Seven follows your instruction to sit. After some hesitation, he shrugs off his jacket.

“Do you want to…” You trail off, biting your lip, looking worried. Seven is more attuned to your facial expressions now, perhaps overcompensating for how he’s hurt your feelings. He can’t stand thinking that you might be scared of him, even if that’s exactly what he needs you to be. Desire to keep the walls between you in tact is in constant combat with his desire to put you back at ease in his presence.

“Are you okay?” He sounds a bit like you, timid and sugary-sweet. His voice seems to echo with the memory of yours from the past few days. Half of the conversations he’s had with you have begun with your voice asking this same question in the same tone.

He watches you in the bathroom mirror as you nod your head, then shift on the balls of your feet. “Hair gets in your shirt collar.”

“So?”

You duck momentarily out of the frame of the mirror. Your voice behind him is half-hearted, like you’ve run out of steam. “Never mind.”

That’s when he realizes what you mean, and his mind becomes an overheating CPU again, whirring out of his control. He imagines taking off his shirt so that tiny hairs don’t stick to him when they fall. His muscles are a surprise to anyone that knows his habits, so he imagines seeing that surprise on your face. Warmth creeps across his neck at the thought.

“It’s okay. I have other shirts.” He already feels exposed enough without his hoodie, but it’s equal parts freedom and vulnerability. He sits a little taller, as if the weight of the jacket pressed his shoulders down when he wore it. His arms, though, feel stiff and too long without familiar pockets to rest in. He hasn’t made eye-contact with himself in the mirror once, but he knows he looks a little clearer.

“Sure.”

It is in this moment when both of you realize the situation you’re in. You haven’t ever touched him before deliberately. There was one time when your elbow bumped his while you were eating with chopsticks beside him, followed by a hurried apology and a shuffle away. You seem a afraid of your hands being in his hair.

Seven clears his throat and tilts his chin up so that his head is perfectly straight. “I’ll try to keep still.”

“Alright, yeah.“ You take a section of hair at the back of his neck, pinching little cupid curls between two fingers. “Be still.”

The first snip takes away almost nothing at all. Seven can tell that you’re easing into it. Really, he wouldn’t care if you did a bad job. He can only worry about so much at a time, he reckons that a bad trim wouldn’t even be a blip on his radar. The second snip is a little more sure.

Seven has never had an easy time staying still. He’s always bouncing his legs or rocking in his chair or typing imaginary lines of code with his idle fingers. For you, though, and for the sake of his cherry-red curls, he puffs out his chest and counts slow breaths. He keeps his promise, only moving when you direct him to tilt his head one way or another.

You do your best to minimize falling hair as you cut, throwing pieces into the bathroom trashcan instead of letting them fall. Still, Seven can feel little tickles under his collar. He tries to ignore them, along with his rising internal temperature. As well as your hands combing his bangs to one side and then the other, your warm breath against his neck when you lean in to trim beneath his ears. You study him like a sculptor smoothing details into clay, leaning close as you measure pieces of hair against each other, aiming for perfection.

“Do you usually go to a hair salon to get your hair trimmed?”

Seven is startled when you break the silence, but he’s careful not to show it. He takes a breath. “Yeah, it gets away from me, though.”

A lot of things get away from him. For his entire adult life, Seven has been tossed around by the agency and V, treading water all the time. Before, when he still believed Saeran was safe, it hadn’t been so bad to let himself be used. Knowing that it’s all been for nothing, though, Seven finds a new feeling of guilt and loss at having led such a terrible life with nothing to show for it.

“Are you alright?” you ask, for the millionth time in a day. The words seem to fall from your mouth without thought.

Seven frowns, wondering how he could even begin to answer.

“Don’t answer that,” you say. It’s obvious that he’s not alright. “Sorry.”

It’s a mercy when you’re finished. You ruffle his curls one last time and step back. Seven sucks in a breath and slumps against the chair. His shoulders muscles ache from the tension he’s been holding.

“What do you think?” You take a step back and cross your arms.

Seven has to stand to fully see his face in the mirror. Really studying himself like this is something he tends to avoid, but it becomes easier in the moment than looking back at you.

“It looks good,” he says, and he isn’t lying. You’ve only done a utilitarian trim, keeping his normal hairstyle completely in tact, but it looks about as good as a professional haircut. A bit more of his face has been revealed by his bangs being trimmed back, again making him feel simultaneously more vulnerable and more at ease.

You put the scissors back into the bathroom cabinet. It’s clear by the way that you scoot around him to the door that you’re avoiding his eye contact as much as he’s avoiding yours.

“You probably want to shower,” you say, “the little hair pieces…”

“Right, yeah.”

Seven realizes far too late that you’ve tricked him into almost an hour away from his computer. He doesn’t mind, though, because he nearly shudders at the thought of hot water hitting his swimming head and sore back.  

You nod, then leave him alone, closing the door as you go.

Out of necessity, Seven uses your shampoo. He scrubs his shoulders with your soap and the steam carrying your scent envelops him like a blanket. The corners of his eyes prick with tears at the foreign tenderness you’ve shown him. Not just in cutting his hair in the middle of the night, but in making sure he’s eaten and slept, in trying to reason with him and being understanding when he’s pushed you away.

Seven never cried as a child. It was important for him to be strong for Saeran, and he didn’t like letting his mom know how he felt, no matter how terrible she was to him. There was power, then, in hiding away. Everything he was able to keep for himself was a luxury.

Until a few days ago, the same principal applied. All of the secrets about his past were like the expensive cars in his garage, tucked away in the dark, completely under his control. Everything was compartmentalized into boxes labeled with his three identities.

He imagines the name tags on them. Luciel, the martyred angel, 707, the secret agent, and Saeyoung… Saeyoung doesn’t need an epitaph. The syllable he shares with a lost brother is enough.

When he finishes showering, he wraps himself in a towel and drops the clothes he was wearing into the hamper. He notices that the hamper is empty, meaning that you secretly did his laundry for him even when he told you not to worry about it. He heaves a half-frustrated-half-adoring sigh.

“Do you feel better?” you ask him when he returns to the living room, wearing a clean pair of black sweatpants and a new red t-shirt. He puts his jacket back on and returns to his place in the corner. You have curled back up on the couch next to his workstation with your phone, tapping away at a text to someone in the RFA app. Seven wonders if you’re telling one of the members about the haircut you’ve given him.

Seven drops down to the floor. His hair is still damp, pieces of it sticking to his ears and his face, but it’s no longer in his eyes or tickling his neck. He feels like a new man. “Yeah.” He unlocks his laptop and picks up right where he’s left off tracing the hacker. “Thanks.”

“You’re going to work more?”

“I have to.”

“Right.”

He watches as you get up and retrieve a spare blanket and one of the pillows from the bed. You set them on the couch and, for a moment, Seven thinks you might demand that he sleep there.

Instead, you settle back into your spot and pull the blanket over you. “If you get tired, take a nap on the bed.”

Seven sees no point in arguing, your tone is so matter-of-fact. He only nods. “Fine. Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Seven.” You reach out a hand and ruffle his hair. The gesture is so nonchalant that, by the time he’s registered it, your hand is already tucked back into the blanket.

Seven sits there for a moment, listening to your gentle breaths beside him and the soft whir of his laptop’s fan cooling the CPU. He’s in another stalemate with you, exactly where he started.

“Goodnight.”

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I hope I made it in time for wip Wednesday!!!! I'd love some of my darling angel neil please!!!

WIP Wednesday (4/24) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 176)

When they get to the seasonal costume shop inside the mall, Andrew is a bit dismayed at the oodles of costumes still clinging to the racks. Because, knowing Nicky, it means they’ll be here all night. He sighs and follows the others inside, picking through the disaster area and finding nothing at all. 

Until his hand grazes a horribly-textured piece of white fabric. He pulls it out by its hanger, wondering what on earth it could possibly be. The photo on the tag shows what it’s supposed to look like and Andrew laughs so hard fears he might piss his pants.

Because... It’s an angel costume. 

A short, toga-esque thing made of shitty polyester, meant to be coupled with a pair of mangy wings and a plastic halo stuck on a headband. Each sold separately, of course. Oh, it is horrendous, funny as it is.

Andrew can’t imagine Neil… 

Oh, wait. He can. Andrew freezes solid at the thought of Neil wearing nothing but this glorified hand towel. Oh shit. It would be short enough to show off his legs and— Andrew glances back down at the photo— it would also expose half of his chest. Fucking hell. 

Andrew shakes his head. He’s not sure if he’d be able to function if his angel dressed like this. Maybe it’s a good thing that Neil is a hoodie-and-jeans sort of guy.

“Oh my god! Is that a sexy angel costume?” Nicky squawks beside him, breaking the daydream and surely doing permanent damage to his hearing.

“I suppose it is,” Andrew shrugs. It would be, but only if Neil was the angel in it. He goes to put it back where he found it but Nicky snatches it up before Andrew can blink. 

“Oh, shit. It’s too small for me,” Nicky pouts, dropping it onto the rack. The relief that flood Andrew’s entire being is short-lived when Aaron pops up behind them.

“They probably have other sizes. Just go ask.” Aaron suggests. Oh, the betrayal. Andrew wants to throttle him for the way Nicky’s face lights up.

“You’re right! I will,” Nicky beams and floats over to the checkout where a girl has been flipping through a magazine since they came in. Nicky returns a moment later, disappointed. “She said all they have is on the floor. No sexy angel for me.”

“Oh pity,” Andrew lies, thanking whatever higher power just saved him from being forced to see Nicky parade around in that getup at Eden’s. He shuffles away from his relatives to see Kevin looking at something that must be a vampire cape. It’s black and lined with red satin, fitting for a Raven. 

However, Kevin will never be a Raven again despite his tendency to gravitate towards their colors. As if reading Andrew’s mind, Kevin drops it like he’s been burned and even wipes his hands on his pants. Andrew gives his quiet approval and goes to find something cheap and simple for himself. He finally finds it in a bin marked $5. And he checks out quickly before leaning against the wall and watching the others scavenge.

[minisugakoobies]

Happy Hour 2: The Hyungs Strike Back | Hyung Line

Pairing: Hyung Line x Reader, kinda?

Genre: Crack. Just pure crack. Over 4K of ridiculousness this time. Non-Idol!AU.

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, drug use, implied smut (still marking it as M just to be safe), the maknae line are at it again

Word Count: 4.4K

Disclaimers: NSFW, I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: While back home for another holiday, your brother Jungkook and his friends convince you to go late night bowling with them. Surely this won't end as badly as the last time you went out, right?

A/N: Bloobs brought me another scenario featuring my beloved maknaes and I couldn't resist writing a sequel to Happy Hour! Here's how her brilliant prompt started: "You've laid low since the night at Pied Piper. Jungkook thinks it would be great to take you and his friends out to late night bowling. Neon lights, top 40 hits, cheap beer. What could go wrong?" What, indeed? 😁You can read the rest of her beautiful scenario here. Thank you for inspiring me again, Bloobs! 💜

Unbeta’d of course. If you like this nonsense, please let me know - my inbox is always open! 💕

Previous: Happy Hour

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

Jungkook pulls into a parking spot and kills the engine of his car. He glances at you. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Just a minute.” Turning in your seat, you face the two younger men sitting in the back. “Okay. Before we go in there, what are the rules again?”

Taehyung sighs. “Really, Noona? You’ve already made us repeat these a dozen times on the way here.”

“Yes, really,” you say, giving him a sharp look. “One more time.”

“Fine. Rule number one: no one is allowed to buy or give any drinks to Noona.”

“Correct. No one is handling my drinks tonight except me.” You look at the other man, who smiles angelically. This makes you narrow your eyes. “Jimin? What’s rule number two?”

“No taking any videos or photos with my phone. If Noona so much as sees my phone at any point, she will rain thunder down on me.” Jimin scrunches up his cherubic face, adjusting the thick headband that holds his blond hair back. “I don’t even know what that means, Noona.”

“Well, god help you if you find out tonight, Minnie,” you inform him.

“Aw, don’t you trust me?” He holds his hands up at the murderous glint in your eye. “My phone will stay in my pocket! I promise!”

You tilt your head towards your brother. “Jungkook?”

“If at any time Noona appears to be reaching the bad stages of drunkenness, I am to remove her from the premises immediately.” He wrinkles his nose. “I’m just supposed to know what 'the bad stages’ are?”

“Trust me. You’ll know.” You square your shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get it.”

Sure, the rules might be overkill, but this is your first public appearance in your hometown since that drunken disaster at Pied Piper last month, so you’re not taking any chances. You almost didn’t come back to town for another visit, but you couldn’t stand being away from your family for the holidays.

Unlike your parents, who departed this morning for some remote cabin in the woods on a “rustic Christmas” getaway. Whatever. At least they’d left you with a full fridge for the weekend.

Honestly, part of you wants to grab your brother’s keys and hightail it back to your parents�� house right now, but you know you can’t hide forever. So when the trio asked you to go late night bowling with them, promising it wouldn’t be a repeat of the happy hour incident, you gave in. You have a hard time saying no to these three.

And they know it.

You had no idea that bowling is such a popular Friday night activity, but there’s only one lane available when you get to the register. The bored young man behind the counter hands out your shoes and tells you you’re on lucky #13.

“I’m going to grab us a pitcher,” Jungkook says. “You sure you don’t want a drink, Noona?”

“Rule number one, Jungkook.” No one will be feeding you any drinks tonight. “I’ll grab one later. Gonna take it slow for now.”

As you and the other boys saunter towards your reserved lane, you’re starting to feel pretty good about deciding to come out tonight. No one’s staring at you or pointing and laughing or doing anything you’d been afraid of. Plopping down in one of the hard plastic seats attached to your table, you listen to Taehyung and Jimin argue about whose name should be “ASS” on the automatic scorer as you tie on the ugly bright red and blue bowling shoes.

When you straighten up, those good feelings slide right down the drain as you spot the four men in the neighboring lane.

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter as Hobi, Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon all look your way.

These are the last faces you were hoping to see tonight. Well, three of them, anyway.

“Baby!” Hobi coos as he bounds over and picks you up in a big bear hug. You giggle a little before insisting he put you down. The two of you saw quite a bit of each other the last time you were in town, but you haven’t heard anything from him since. “I’m so happy to see you again.” He wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind, and you can feel just how happy he is through the loose grey sweatpants he wears.

“Hey hyungs!” Taehyung waves. “Having a good night?”

“We were,” Jin replies, shooting you a dirty look.

“Hey,” Yoongi drawls your name. “Are you taking requests for your serenades tonight? Can I request that you wait until I’ve left the building?”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, dark eyes blinking slowly at you. You’re not sure what that means but you don’t think you like it.

Jungkook appears at that moment, pitcher in one hand, plastic cups in the other. As soon as he sets everything down, you wiggle free from Hobi’s grasp, grab a cup, and pour yourself a drink. Forget rule number one. You need beer, and you need it now.

“Uh, Noona?” Jungkook asks as you lift the cup to your lips. “Are you sure you want to drink that? Don’t you want to take it slow?”

You pause, scanning the faces around you. Everyone seems to be breathlessly waiting to see if you’re going to chug the beer. Especially Taehyung and Jimin, who are both grinning like madmen.

Oh, no. You’re not doing this again. Setting the cup down, you sigh. You can handle the barbs and jabs from your former crushes tonight. It’s not worth getting drunk and risking ending up the star of another series of home movies from hell.

“You’re right, Jungkook. Thanks.”

Taehyung and Jimin both visibly deflate as you grin at your brother. Ignoring the death glare Jin is still leveling your way and the snide comments Yoongi keeps dropping, you stand and approach the lane. With a strong throw, your bowling ball hurtles down the waxy wooden paneling and smashes into the pins, knocking all ten down.

Oh yeah. You’ve got this.

“Noona. Nooooooo-naaaaaaa. Wakey wakey.”

A gentle voice is murmuring in your ear. Is it Hobi again? You reach out and your hand sinks into a thick mop of hair.

“Hobi,” you smile into your pillow, eyes still shut tight, “your hair is so soft, baby.”

“Thanks, Noona,” the voice replies, “I do an avocado and honey mask twice a week. But I’m not Hobi?”

Oh no. No no no.

You recognize that voice now that sleep has abandoned you, but you don’t want to open your eyes.

“Come on, Noona, we know you’re awake,” your brother’s voice joins the fray. “Give it up.”

Goddamn it.

Jungkook and Jimin peer down at you in concern as you blink slowly in the bright sunlight streaming into your parents’ living room. You’re lying on the floor, a couch cushion flattened under your cheek.

Taehyung is lying next to you, smiling brilliantly. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair.

“Fuck!” you yell, pulling your hand away. “Why are you lying here? Oh god, please tell me we didn’t - “

“Oh, no, Noona, we didn’t do anything!” Taehyung reassures you, waving his hands. “I was just trying to wake you.” He taps his watch. “It’s almost one, sleepyhead!”

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. Glancing down, you realize you’re wearing your clothes from last night, but your shirt is on backwards. “Why am I dressed like this and why was I on the floor?”

“We were hoping you’d tell us,” Jimin states, clucking his tongue.

Your brother gestures to the plate on the coffee table. “I made you breakfast. Again.”

“You’re a goddamn saint, Jungkook. Santa better bring you everything you asked for this year.” You tuck into the egg sandwich he’s prepared for you.

Your chewing slows as you realize the boys are all staring at you. “Oh god. What now?”

“If you don’t know why you slept down here, I’m guessing you can’t recall most of your night before that, either?” Jungkook asks. He grabs the cushion and puts it back, then stretches out on the couch.

Now that he mentions it, you can’t. But - how could that -

“YOU ASSHOLES!! You got me drunk again, didn’t you?” You can’t believe it. After all their promises to you, all the reassurances that they knew the rules! All the threats of grievous bodily harm! “Goddamn it, I knew I shouldn’t trust you!”

“Whoa! We did no such thing!” Taehyung yelps. “You didn’t have anything to drink last night! I swear!”

Confused, you look at your brother, who simply nods. “He’s telling the truth. You nearly started chugging beer when we first got there, but changed your mind. None of us saw you drink a single drop of alcohol all night.”

“And believe me, we were watching,” Jimin adds.

“But I don’t remember anything! I mean, I remember getting to the alley, and finding our lane, and�� oh god, everyone was there. Hobi, and Namjoon, and Yoongi. And Jin? I think?” You lean back against the couch, head in your hands. “And then it’s all just a big blur. What happened?”

“Great question!” Taehyung beams. “We were hoping you’d ask that.”

“‘We’?” your brother mutters under his breath.

“Oh, fuck me, please don’t say it,” you beg. But you know what’s coming and there’s no way to stop it.

“LET’S ROLL THAT TAPE!”

Deja vu smacks you directly upside the head as your face suddenly fills the tv screen. You turn into a banshee. “JIMIN I TOLD YOU NO PHONES!”

Then the camera shifts, pulling back, and you realize, to your horror, you’re the one holding it.

“Oh no, Noona,” Jimin smirks from his perch on your parents’ armchair. “I kept my promise! But you never said anything about your phone.”

What the fuck?!

“Hold on, how the fuck are you playing this if I took it?”

Jimin holds up the phone in his hands. It’s yours.

If the pitch of your voice gets any more shrill, only dogs will be able to hear you. “How do you know my passcode?!?”

Video You giggles, and holds the camera out to widen the view, revealing Hobi sitting behind you. Well, underneath you, as you’re on his lap. Yoongi is next to Hobi, head tipped back as he stares at the laser lights dancing overhead.

“You feeling good, baby?” Hobi says to Video You.

“I can’t believe I forgot how amazing molly makes me feel!” Video You raves, leaning back against Hobi as he wraps an arm around you.

Oh shit. Not molly. You and Hobi had taken it a few times together at some parties over the years. It led to some… interesting nights. The ones you could recall, at least. How fucking stressed had you been last night that you’d decided ecstasy was a good idea??

“You coming home with me tonight?” Hobi asks as Video You nods and attacks his mouth with your own.

“Just giving the milk away, huh, Noona?” Taehyung inquires.

“Fuck off, Tae.”

The camera flips to show your brother preparing to take his turn. As he steps up to throw the ball, it flips back to you and Hobi, who turns to Yoongi. “You want to join us, hyung? You know three’s the magic number. ”

THUD!

“Awww, poor baby bro got a gutter ball!” Video You crows into the camera as Yoongi looks questioningly at Hobi over your shoulder.

“Are you serious?”

Hobi shrugs. “Just asking. I know you’re always up for a good time. So are we, right?” He nudges your cheek with his nose as you laugh. The camera wobbles as you zoom in on Yoongi.

“We are. Come on, Yoongi,” Video You begs in what you can only describe, to your absolute shame, as a pouty baby voice as Yoongi stares impassively at the lens. “Don’t you want to play with us?”

“Jungkook, come on, finish your frame!” Taehyung’s voice calls from offscreen. The camera tilts again and shows Jungkook stepping up to the lane.

“Try to get one this time, Jungkookie. Just one!” Video You cheers, apparently trying to be supportive, and your brother swings his arm back as Yoongi’s voice declares, “Okay, but if we get into a double penetration situation, I want - ,” and his voice is cut off by Video You’s scream as your brother’s grip on his bowling ball slips and it flies backwards, smashing into a plastic chair and breaking it.

Present day you is also screaming as the video stops. Your brother and his friends all stare at you.

“Okay,” you begin, hands folded in front of your mouth once you stop shrieking. “So… I didn’t get drunk, but I was rolling on molly last night.”

“Looks that way,” Taehyung replies.

“I’m pretty sure Yoongi gave it to you. And Hobi. And god knows who else,” Jimin snorts. “He was definitely on it last night.”

You nod, absorbing. “And Jimin didn’t touch his phone. Because I decided to record myself… evidently arranging a threesome.”

“Correct,” Jimin states as your brother buries his face in a pillow.

This is fine.

“I mean, this could have been worse.”

Jungkook springs up and throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it kind of sucked for me! The three of you were so loud making your plans that I ended up breaking the chair off the table! I had to pay for that shit!”

“Well, serves you right for being a puritan. Polyamory is a valid lifestyle,” you sniff. Jungkook just lets out a wordless scream and flops back down on the couch. Taehyung giggles, and you squint at him.

“Tae, is your nose all bruised?”

Taehyung coughs. “Uh, it’s probably just the lighting in here.”

“So, I’m guessing I came home with those two last night?” You grab your sandwich and start eating again. Your appetite has returned now that you know what happened.

Plus you need your strength if you have Hobi and Yoongi waiting upstairs.

“Wellllllll…” Taehyung stretches the word out to several syllables, and you blink.

“Oh please no.”

“Cue it up, Jimin!”

Any thought of snatching your phone from Jimin’s hands is quickly wiped away by the sight on screen.

“Oh my god, what is Namjoon doing?”

The phrase that immediately comes to mind is “working it out.” As the camera focuses on the tall drink of water that is your former crush, you realize that -

“Oh my god, is he giving me a lap dance??”

As you watch in half-horror, half-delight, the camera angle tilts like you’re holding it over your head, aiming down to show the tree trunk thighs that straddle your lap. It pans up to Namjoon’s face. His eyes are closed as he sings, head bobbing to, well, you’re not quite sure.

“What is the song playing?” You tilt your head, trying to hear better. “Is that -

“Miley Cyrus’s ‘Party in the USA?’ Yes, Namjoon-hyung is grinding it out to Hannah Montana,” Taehyung answers happily.

“But he’s not dancing on the beat, and that’s not what he’s singing.” God, the lyrics seem familiar, but you can’t quite place the off-key notes that Namjoon is warbling into the camera.

Video You whoops loudly. “Fuck yeah, baby! Work those hips, Joonie!”

“Molly really brings out Noona’s inner cheerleader.”

“Too bad she’s a real shit cheerleader.”

“Shut it, Tae, Jungkook, I’m still trying to figure out the song!”

“He’s singing ‘I Want You,' by Madonna,” Jimin informs the room.

You all stare at Jimin.

“What? It’s a good fucking song.”

Turning your attention back to the video, you cringe but laugh as Namjoon croons “I want you to want me, baby, just like I want youuuuuuu.” You can hear Yoongi and Hobi shouting encouragement in the background, and a few dollar bills float into the frame.

Namjoon suddenly thrusts hard to the beat that only he can hear, knocking the phone out of your hand. As Video You fumbles to recover it, the camera catches him losing his balance, sticking a foot in the pizza on the table behind him. He scrambles, knocking a pitcher of beer directly into Jimin’s lap. The camera cuts off as Jimin leaps up, shaking out his sweatpants and screeching “THESE ARE VERSACE!”

You’re cackling loudly enough to wake the dead.

“Oh my god, that was amazing! Fuck, I wonder if that was Joon’s first time on molly?” Who knew that mountain could move like that?

“Yeah, well, I hope he enjoyed it, because I’m sending him the dry cleaning bill for my pants,” Jimin huffs. “I smelled like beer the rest of the night.”

Again, you can live with this.

“Okay, so Joon brought me home, then?”

“Let’s go to the videotape one more time!”

“GODDAMN IT.”

Once again, you’re watching yourself on the screen, but this time there’s no phone in your hand. Video You dances near the rack, rubbing your hands over the bowling balls in a manner clearly meant to be sensual, but falls well short of the mark. You quickly realize that Hobi is now in control of the camera as his voice booms, “That’s it, baby! Show us what you’re working with!”

“Why am I always singing?,” you murmur as Video You loudly, and poorly, caterwauls, “We’re gonna score tonight! We’re gonna sco-or-rrrre to-nigh-ight!”

“Excellent choice, Noona. Grease 2 is an underrated classic,” Jimin enthuses, and although you agree with him, you still chuck a pillow at him.

The camera pans to show Yoongi watching you with his mouth hanging open. Video You also notices and stops your terrible rendition. As you cower behind a pillow on the floor, Video You struts over to where Hobi and Yoongi are sitting and suddenly bends over in front of them, showing off a lacy pink thong sticking out of the back of her jeans.

“Oh Jesus god!” You really didn’t need a closeup of your ass, but Hobi was all too happy to provide one anyway, judging by the speed with which he zoomed in and the uncontrollable giggles that filter through the tv.

Your brother pulls the quilt off the back of the couch and wraps it around his head as Jimin dances in his seat and Taehyung claps along.

Spurred on by Hobi’s reaction, and the fact that Britney Spears’s ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’ is thumping overhead, Video You yanks the thong up higher and shimmies in front of Yoongi, who is either completely rapt or rolling so hard his soul left his body. Either way, he stares at your ass as the song changes to the only one that could make this moment even worse.

“Oooh, that dress so scandalous,” Sisqó’s ‘Thong Song’ blares out of the speakers. Video You cheers and the camera suddenly wobbles as Hobi joins you. The angle shifts as he holds the phone out in front of you, showing how he has wrapped himself around you like a blanket and the two of you begin to grind.

“Okay, I get it, no more molly for me ever, can we turn it off now?” you groan, drawing your knees up to your chest. “Unless I start stripping here, I don’t think it’s going to get any worse.”

“Oh, Noona, you should know by now that it can always get worse,” Jimin asserts. “Especially when it’s you we’re watching.”

Before you can fire off your terse rejoinder (“Did you just hear that rumbling, Minnie? Prepare for thunder!”), the video draws you back in. The loud music suddenly cuts off, and Video You and Hobi stop dancing as a drunken voice slurs into the loudspeaker.

“Did I ever tell you about the time ___ tried to convince me to have sex with her on a playground?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Jimin was right, you really should know better by now.

The camera zooms in on the tall man standing behind the rental counter, clutching the microphone for the PA. It’s not the bored bowling alley clerk from earlier. It’s Jin. The one man you belatedly realize has been missing from all of the videos so far. Clearly, he’d been offscreen drinking his way through a keg, because from the way he’s violently swaying as he drones into the mic, he’s completely wasted.

“I told her ‘no!’ Jin announces, waving a hand for emphasis. “Because if we got - *hic* - if we got caught, it would be trouble!”

“That motherfucker,” you mutter as you hear Hobi and the others laughing offscreen. “He’s the one who wanted to fuck on a merry-go-round! I’m the one who said no!”

“Good call. Merry-go-rounds make me nauseous,” Taehyung nods.

"This conversation is making me nauseous," your brother's muffled voice adds.

“I thought maybe she had - had a teacher-student kink, you know?” Jin continues, propping himself against the counter. “She was all, oh senpai, notice me, at school with that guy. That guy that taught Euro History? You know? What the fuck was his name?”

“Why isn’t anyone stopping him?” you shout at the tv, as if the people on screen could hear you.

“Just wait,” Jungkook says gruffly from beneath the quilt.

That’s less than reassuring.

“Choi!” Jin suddenly shouts. “He was like 80 years old *hic* and I swear she was always like, ‘oh, seonsaengnim!’” Jin mockingly singsongs the word. “‘You’re so - so smart!’ I bet she wanted me to pretend to be Choi.”

As your fists clench, you watch in shock as Video You suddenly makes a run for the counter. Taehyung darts into frame, trying to hold Video You back.

Jin tries to survey the entire bowling alley, asking if any of them got glowing recommendation letters from Choi or if it was only you. Hobi shouts “Oh shit!” as Video You launches yourself up and over the counter, kicking Taehyung square in the face as you ascend. A second later, Video You tackles a shrieking Jin to the ground as Hobi stops the recording.

From the looks on their faces, none of the boys expected you to find this funny in the slightest. But especially not hysterical, as you double over, practically crying with laughter.

“Uh, Noona?” Taehyung asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fucking fantastic!” you exclaim. “Oh, but shit, Tae - how’s your face? It looked like I clocked you pretty good!”

Taehyung touches his nose, wincing. “If Jin got the thunder, I think I got the bolt of lightning.”

This only makes you laugh harder.

“Noona,” Taehyung pouts. “Don’t laugh!”

“Are you kidding me?” This is too much. “This is amazing! It’s karma! This is karmic payback for what you guys did to me at Pied Piper!”

“What we did?” your brother sputters, poking his head out, eyes widening in surprise. “You did all of that to yourself!”

“Yeah, after you fed me drinks all night! And I sure as fuck didn’t record myself there, did I, Minnie?” Jimin at least had the decency to look abashed. “And look - what was the third rule last night, Jungkook?” Your brother just glares. “If you’d taken me home when the molly took over, all of this could’ve been avoided. You have no one to blame but yourselves”

“And Yoongi, for providing the molly,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. He knows there’s no point in arguing with you about who was responsible for what. The two of you might not look like brother and sister, but you were practically identical twins in terms of sheer stubbornness. He retreats under the quilt again.

“So what happened after I rained down hell on Jin?”

“Jungkook separated you two. The bowling alley guy came back from his cigarette break and basically shut the place down early,” Jimin informs you.

You crack up. “Guess he’d had enough of the chaos!”

“Then Jin and I took a trip to the walk-in clinic,” Taehyung replies, frowning. “He was fine - you knocked the wind out of him, but it came right back, judging by how much he whined that you ruined his moneymaker.” You cock an eyebrow at that and Taehyung goes on. “His face. You gave him a tiny scratch below his eye. Needed like two stitches. I told him ladies dig scars.”

“Once I got you calmed down, I asked Jimin to call you two a ride and get you home, while I stayed to pay for the damages. Those ugly-ass chairs are surprisingly expensive,” Jungkook laments from under the blanket.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t bring Noona home,” Jimin sits up. “She was already gone, so I made sure Yoongi-hyung got home instead. He was pretty out of it. Kept meowing at me.”

You glance at the staircase. “I have a good idea of how I got home.” Hopping up, you walk over and lean against the railing as you bellow, “Hobi!!”

“Baby?” Hobi’s voice calls out. A minute later, he pads down the stairs, once again clad in only bottoms, this time a pair of your fleecy pajama pants. “You called?”

“I sure did,” you state, giving Hobi a smooch on the cheek. You run your fingers through his fluffy bedhead. “Just as soft as I thought.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” You beam at him.

“Good morning, Hobi-hyung. Nice to see you again,” Taehyung grins.

“Uh, hey, Taehyung. Jimin. Person who I assume is Jungkook under that quilt.”

The quilt waves.

“I don’t suppose you know why I woke up down here, dressed like a Kris Kross revival?” you ask Hobi.

“You wandered off in search of water again. I’m gonna start keeping a pitcher on your nightstand when I come over.” He traces a finger along your jawline. “Come back to bed? We missed you.”

We??

“Hobi-hyung? Sweetness? Where did you both go?”

“I thought you took Yoongi-hyung home?” Taehyung asks Jimin, who nods.

You blink in surprise as another man descends from upstairs. Also wearing your pajama bottoms, though on his long legs, they barely reach mid-calf.

“Namjoon!” you gasp as the shirtless man smiles bashfully, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Hey… everyone,” he responds slowly, realizing the room is full of staring eyes. “Uh, good morning?”

“Afternoon, but close enough.” You gesture to Jimin. “Phone.”

Jimin hands it over and you slip it into the pocket of your jeans as Taehyung rubs his face gingerly and the quilt sighs loudly.

“Great. Well, last night looks like it was a total blast, guys. Let’s do it again soon!” Taking Hobi and Namjoon each by the hand, you climb the stairs back to your room, wondering if you should send Yoongi a gift basket for that molly. “Come on, boys. Back to bed.”

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[sasquapossum]

Resin Crafting Tips

I’m working on another shell-piece table top today. Here’s a picture of the first one, while it was still in the works.

This is the largest type of project I do, so it always brings various points of equipment/materials and technique to mind. Maybe I’ve posted some of these before, but no matter. Let’s go.

These chemicals are nasty. They’re not “forever chemicals” (if they were I would find another craft) but the components are hardly benign either. Worse, their effects - both contact dermatitis and respiratory problems - are cumulative. That means you might not notice or mind too much for a while, then suddenly you’re so sensitive that you just can’t do resin work any more. I use a 3M respirator with NIOSH “organic vapor / acid gas” cartridges - olive color, make sure you get the right ones - and of course gloves. For sanding work you should probably switch in some particulate cartridges (magenta). Safety first and always.

Also, try to minimize waste and dispose of leftovers or contaminated PPE properly. Neither the components nor the cured resin are recyclable. The components are actually considered hazardous waste and should be disposed of as such according to your town’s or city’s rules. Absolutely do not put any resin material (including powders and dyes) down the sink.

OK, enough safety stuff. On to the craft side.

Powders, including those suspended in liquid, will settle. Many products will claim otherwise. They’re lying, and you should avoid any product from companies that make such claims. Instead of hoping that your additives will remain suspended evenly throughout the resin, pour extra layers.

Alcohol dyes, by contrast, will tend to float on the top. Some of my favorite effects are even based on working with this fact instead of against it. Again, layers - as tedious as they can be - are your friend.

Pieces - like the shell pieces I’m using now - present their own challenges. They don’t always lie flat, so thickness varies and unless you want to waste a lot of resin you have to pick out the pieces that sit highest. I use angled rubber-tipped tweezers (make sure you clean them carefully after each use) and a lot of patience. A headband with a built-in lamp and magnifying lenses helps too.

Get a good heat gun to remove bubbles. A cheap one can not only mar your work but actually pose a danger. My first was a cheapo from Amazon. After only a few uses it started to melt its own housing, risking a short and/or fire. So I got a much better one. Worth it.

Get a variety of heat-gun tips. The round ones that usually come with guns aren’t that great for most work. My current favorite is a flat tip about an inch wide, which is easier to control around edges and such.

Weatherproofing tape is much cheaper than the edge-sealing tape marketed specifically toward resin artists, and IMX is better too. A lot of the “resin tape” doesn’t stick worth shit, and that’s important.

The pour is the easy part. I can’t emphasize this enough. I typically spend twice as much time leveling (do get and use a level for tables etc.), taping, de-bubbling, sanding, polishing, and of course cleaning up as mixing and pouring. This is where your energy should go if you want a good result. This is true even when you’re pouring lots of layers. It kind of sucks TBH, but it’s the job.

Sanding in particular is a pain. Super-fine sandpaper is not easy to find (protip: most of it is sold for auto detailing) and clogs up or wears out quickly. Orbital sanders (the kind you want) have a strong tendency to leave characteristic spiral patterns unless you’re very careful. Polishes never work as well as promised. I’ve used up to 10K-grit sandpaper and a bunch of different polishes, and never been able to get a result as good as the natural surface from a good pour. And the dust. OMG, the dust. It gets everywhere, it’s hard to clean up, it can ruin future pieces, and you really don’t want anyone breathing it in. If anything ever makes me quit this craft, it’ll be the dust.

Drip edges are also a pain. Even with a good IR thermometer and such, judging when to take the tape off and let it drip is more art than science. I consider myself a fairly experienced resin artist at this point, and I’m still working on that skill. I do it, though, because sanding is even worse. At least this way the sanding is limited to the bottom where nobody sees so I can just do one or two passes with standard paper instead of a dozen with the specialized stuff.

I know that all sounds exhausting. It is, but the results can be worth it. I love these tables, I love my dragon coasters and my sparkly earrings and my unique phone cases and my “progress frog” and all the rest. In a way, having to work a little makes them even more precious. Happy crafting.

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 4

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: mentions sexual experiences of reader before she was of age, discussion about sex lives, flirting, touching 

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 3

Next →Part 5

Head resting in your hand and elbow resting on the counter, you huffed, still not used to the heat that accumulated in the store throughout the day and praying for just one customer to walk through the door so you could experience a refreshing blast of evening air. You supposed you could go outside yourself to cool off a little, like Keishin had previously suggested in lieu of sticking your head in one of the fridges, but being the only person at the store currently, you felt a little bad about leaving the building, even if it was just to step out front.

You were still trying your best to put on a good impression for Mrs. Sakanoshita—despite the rough first impression you had made on her son���and you knew the family store was precious, so you decided to suck it up for the remainder of your shift.

Without much to do, since you had completed your chores early, you remained seated at the front counter, bored out of your mind. That was, until your prayers were answered and you heard the front doors slide open.

“Hello!” you greeted happily, ready to welcome a customer. Your radiant excitement faded when you noticed it was just Keishin, however, and went back to slumping on the counter. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Wow, those rapid mood changes must be why we’ve been so busy lately,” Keishin shot back at you, a cigarette hanging from his mouth like usual. “Will the girl behind the counter smile or frown at you? Maybe it’ll be both. Oh, how exciting!”

“Can it, dye job,” you grumbled.

Keishin feigned hurt, his hand resting over his chest dramatically as he pretended to have been shot. “Words hurt, you know. You’ve hurt me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you told him, lazily gesturing around the empty store. “What does matter is that we’ve been dead for hours and I’m bored.”

Keishin poked his bottom lip out and faked a pout. “Awh, poor baby. Is getting paid to sit there and do nothing hard work? You must be exhausted. Poor thing.”

“I don’t get paid nearly enough to put up with you.” You reached across the counter to lightly smack his shoulder but he jumped out of the way just in time. “Seriously though, stay and entertain me for a while.”

“If you’re that bored, why don’t you dust the vents or something?”

You laid your head down on the counter and exhaled slowly for effect. “You know I aim to please but that sounds like hell. Can’t you just talk to me for like ten minutes? Tell me about your day or something.”

Keishin threw his head back and groaned loudly. “But I’m too hungry to think about anything other than food right now.”

“I’m hungry too but you don’t see me complaining about it.”

“No, you’re just complaining about everything else.” He leaned against the other side of the counter, his tongue flicking against the tip of his cigarette as he thought. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

You glanced up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “I doubt it but proceed.”

Done with your constant back talk, which was extremely common between the two of you ever since you had worked out your differences and agreed to the deal he had suggested, he took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into your face. “Just shut up and listen, will you?”

You coughed when you accidentally inhaled the second-hand smoke. “If I get cancer and die, I’m haunting you.”

“Go ahead.” He didn’t pay any attention to the words leaving your mouth as he headed into the back room and shut off the store lights. Then, with his own set of keys in hand, he headed back toward the front of the store. “Come on.” He looked back at you expectantly when you didn’t immediately follow.

Confused, you slowly stepped around from the back of the counter. “Where are we going?”

“We’re closing up early and going to get something to eat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, half of you wondering if this was some sort of employee test to see how responsible you were. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“I am, you aren’t,” Keishin said, beckoning you over to him. “But let’s just keep this between you and I, yeah? What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, it’s slow anyway.”

Taking off your white apron and grabbing your things, you reluctantly followed the older man out of the store and watched as he locked up behind the two of you. Anxiously, you shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Are you sure I won’t get in trouble for this?”

“I promise I won’t tell on you,” Keishin assured you as he stuffed the keys back into his pocket and dropped his cigarette bud to the ground before crushing it with his foot. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

Falling into pace beside Keishin as the two of you set off down the sidewalk, you following his lead, you weren’t sure exactly sure what to say or even if you should say something. Never before had you and Keishin existed outside of the store together and it felt a little awkward. 

“So . . . is this like a date or something?” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. What you had meant to come across as a casual inquiry ended up sounding more like a desperate girl clarifying what she meant to the boy she liked. You sounded like a child.

The corners of Keishin’s mouth curled upward and he shrugged. “Call it whatever you want.” He really didn’t seem to care one way or another. “Although, I’d be a horrible boyfriend if I didn’t take you out at least once . . . fake or not.”

You nearly choked on your spit at the use of the word ‘boyfriend’. Even though you had been pretending to date him for the purposes of changing your parents’ ideals for the past few weeks, you were still caught off guard every time Keishin referred to himself as your boyfriend—even though he was usually doing it to mock you. 

“Yeah, just awful,” you agreed halfheartedly. “Where are we going anyway?”

“This little place that I like,” he said, his answer extremely vague until he continued. “Best ramen I’ve ever had.”

After a few more minutes of walking, the two of you arrived at the place Keishin was talking about and he ordered two take-out bowls and paid for them both, insisting that you should try his regular order since you had never been there before. Not wanting to disagree because he was footing the bill, you let him do what he wanted and tailed him out to a picnic table outside like an obedient puppy. 

“It’s much too hot to eat inside,” Keishin reasoned as he plopped down on the opposite side of the picnic table from you. “Plus, it’s nice outside. Might as well enjoy the weather while it lasts, right?”

“Right.” You nodded.

While Keishin dug right into his meal, you sat still, hands in your lap, and watched him. One thing you had quickly come to realize was that Keishin was the perfect specimen for people watching, and not just because he was relatively easy on the eyes. He was an interesting person; for example, how he tucked half-smoked cigarettes behind his ear to smoke later or how he always wore a headband to keep his hair out of his face but vehemently refused to just cut his damn hair. 

Even though you bugged him about cutting his hair all the time, you secretly hoped he would continue to stand his ground and refuse because you wanted to see what he looked like with his hair down. You also wanted to run your hands through his hair—it looked soft and fluffy—but that was besides the point.

“Hey, it’s gonna get cold,” Keishin snapped you out of your thoughts, his mouth half full of ramen as he jabbed his chopsticks in your direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t like ramen. You should have said something before I ordered for both of us.”

Snapping out of your daze, you picked up your chopsticks and shook your head. “No, I like ramen.” You took a bite to prove your point. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

Keishin waited for you to eat a little more before digging for your consensus. “Good, right?”

“Yeah, really good,” you agreed. “I always walk past this place but I’ve never gone inside.”

“I was the same way. It doesn’t really catch your eye, so unless you’re looking for it, it’s easy to miss,” he said. “Then one day my grandpa took me here for my birthday and I’ve been coming ever since.”

You snickered. “Popular date spot then?”

Keishin cocked a brow. “What?”

“I mean, if you come here a lot, I’m sure it’s a go-to for dates,” you continued. “It even comes with a wholesome story about how your grandpa introduced you to it. Ultimate chick magnet.”

Keishin just rolled his eyes at you. “You know, contrary to popular belief, most girls don’t like it when you take them out to eat cheap ramen on a picnic table that’s falling apart.”

You chuckled. “I wasn’t going to say anything about the table, but I’m pretty sure I have at least ten splinters in my ass by now.”

“Yeah, this thing is torture. So eat fast and then we’ll move to the park across the street or something.”

Shoveling the rest of your food into your mouth, you ate fast while Keishin stared you down, every second that passed introducing your butt to a new world of pain. As soon as you were done, Keishin took both of your take-out bowls and tossed them into a nearby trashcan.

“Well, sucks for all those other girls then, because that ramen really is amazing,” you said when Keishin returned, the two of you crossing the street and heading into the park. 

“Told you.” Keishin smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Once in the park, which was empty considering it was dark out and most kids were in bed by then, the two of you picked a nearby bench that wasn’t splintering and took a seat. 

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs and sighed. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He let his head fall back and looked up at the night sky. “Damn, I could really go for an ice cold beer right now.”

“Well, we could start heading back now if you want,” you suggested. “The beers at the store are extra chilly since I didn’t stick my head in the fridges to cool off today, despite how sweltering it was.”

Keishin laughed. “Well, thank you for that,” he drew in a deep breath and relaxed into the bench, deciding whether to get up or not. “Let’s stay here for a while longer though.”

“Okay.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you stared up at the sky and listened to the sounds of Miyagi in the evening. You tried to remember the last time you had gone out like this—just going wherever you wanted and doing whatever you wanted. You couldn’t recall the last time . . . or even if there was a last time.

Tilting your head to look at Keishin, you smiled at the sight of him sitting with his eyes closed, arms crossed behind his head and head lolled back. He looked happy, almost as peaceful as he did when he was sleeping.

“Hey,” you whispered.

Keishin cracked an eye open to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for tonight.” You breathed in the scent of the night air and a feeling of content washed over you. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I don’t really have any friends. I don’t get to go out like this very often . . . or ever, really.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”

You giggled. “Well, considering you’re not my real boyfriend, I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he caved. “Speaking of fake boyfriends, how’s it going with your parents?”

You let out a frustrated moan. “Oh, about as well as expected. When I mentioned I was seeing someone they bombarded me with a million questions, none of which were answered to their satisfaction.”

Keishin cringed. “So I’m that bad, huh?”

You scoffed. “If you think that’s bad, you should have seen their faces when I showed them a photo of you.”

Keishin let out a laugh. “Don’t tell me they weren’t fans of the piercings?”

“Oh, they weren’t fans of anything,” you said. “I think the only positive thing they could say about you was that you had a pulse . . . no offense.”

“Eh, no worries. At least they didn’t call me a burnout . . . then I would have started crying.”

“Hey!” You smacked at his shoulder again, managing to hit your target this time. “I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t pay for my therapy.”

“Yeah, well, if you need therapy I doubt I’m the biggest reason.”

“You really are so cruel to me. Do your parents know you facilitate abusive relationships?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “That insinuates I’ve had past relationships, or any real ones.”

Keishin craned his neck to look at you, eyes wide. “Wait, you’ve never been in a relationship before? Like never?”

“Nope. I don’t even have any friends, so what makes you think anyone wants to date the boring girl with the crazy parents?”

Keishin looked at you like you were some wounded animal he had just found on the side of the road. You could see in his eyes he was slowly coming to terms with just how isolating your life was. You could tell he felt bad, but the last thing you wanted was his sympathy.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” you told him. “I’m not completely pathetic, okay? I still went through my experimental phase like most teenagers do. I just had to be very sneaky about it.”

“Sneaky?”

“You know, back of a car, other people’s houses when their parents were gone. As far as my parents know, I’m untainted . . . a precious, naive virgin. I’m just not very experienced.”

“I can imagine.” Keishin was a little thrown by the direction the conversation had taken, but you were both adults and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little curious, so he just rolled with it. “High school boys aren’t exactly known for being great in bed.”

The two of you let out a shared laugh at that. “You got that right,” you agreed. 

“So, wait, no relationships but you’ve had sex? So you’ve never been with someone you have a genuine connection with?”

You eyed Keishin, perplexed by the sudden sincerity in his words. “You didn’t peg me as someone who cares about that kind of stuff.”

“I mean, I’ve had my fair share of one night stands, sure, but I’m not completely heartless,” he said, the eye contact he was using while he spoke sending a chill down your spine. “It’s completely different when it’s someone you care about. The experience is something everyone should have at least once in their lives.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a genuine connection with anyone before,” you confessed, unsure why you were spilling some of your deepest secrets in public, on a park bench, to a man you had only known for a couple of months. “It’s kind of hard when everyone is held at an arm’s length away.”

Without warning, Keishin shifted closer to you and placed his hand on your face, the pad of his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” he breathed.

“It’s not sad, not for me at least. You can’t miss something you’ve never had,” you spoke softly, worried you might scare him away if your voice was too loud or if you made any sudden movements. “No best friends, no boyfriends. Just me, my parents, and everyone else.”

Keishin looked like he wanted to say something; in fact, he looked like he wanted to say a lot of things, but despite this, he remained silent. Maybe he was worried about offending you, or maybe he was finally understanding just how different you were from other people. Maybe he didn’t like different. 

“But now there’s you.” You flashed a small smile, hoping to draw him out of whatever mess was going on inside of his head. “I’ve never met someone like you before.”

“Someone like me?” he finally spoke.

You nodded as you placed your hand over the one he was resting on your cheek and held it. “I’m not your responsibility and yet you’re going out of your way to help me. Not to mention I don’t even deserve your help. You are the first truly selflessly kind person I’ve ever met. Thank you.”

“What if I’m not as kind as you think I am?” His hands found their way to your waist and he pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. “What will you do then?”

“That depends on what you’re planning on doing.”

Hands running up your sides, Keishin dug his finger tips into your skin as you lowered your head toward his, mouths inches apart. “What if I took you home, laid you down, and took care of you like a boyfriend should?” You could feel his hot breath on your face as he spoke. “What if I took advantage of your lack of experience?”

“I would say thank you,” you said, inching closer. Before your lips met, however, you stopped yourself. “But I promised not to fall in love, and I think it would be awfully hard to keep my promise if you did that.” With that, you planted your hands on his shoulders and pushed yourself away from him before he could make a decision he would later regret. 

Standing up, you collected yourself and drew in a deep breath. As soon as you had detached yourself from Keishin, you could see the fog that had been clouding his judgement dissipating as he came back to his senses. 

“I should probably head home now.” You decided, not wanting to ruin the first actual friendship you had by doing something stupid and selfish. 

“Yeah.” Keishin nodded, slowly standing up as well. It was clear he was slightly embarrassed by his actions, but you also noticed the glint in his eyes that gave away the part of him that still wanted to take you home with him. 

Trying to immediately leave what had just happened in the past, you smiled and turned to start heading home, opting to take the longer way so you wouldn’t have to take the same route as Keishin. “Good night, Keishin.”

“Good night, Y/N.” You heard him call after you, but you didn’t look back at him. Instead, you kept walking, hoping the time apart would serve as a reset on your relationship and put things back to how they had been before that night.

A few weeks ago, you would have jumped at the chance Keishin had dangled in front of your face just now. But since then, you had realized he was more important to you than someone you could just throw away with a one night stand. And since there was no way the two of you could actually be together, this was the only option if you didn’t want to lose him.

If only someone had warned you that genuine connections were this complicated. 

[your-brilliant-lady-m]

Part 1 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Miraculous Jewels

Alright! I promised you meta and now I deliver!

I feel like people mostly watch Miraculous for the romance these days. Shipping is all everyone cares about. I wonder why? Probably because writers themselves don't take their worldbuilding very seriously and because they don't put much effort into making the audience care about something other than Love Square, like the mythology behind the Miraculous, or motivations of the main villain, or some pretty heavy topics for a kid's show that they bring up and then refuse to touch again. You know, all the good things. And this is coming from someone who is a passionate multishipper. I have lived through several shipping wars in different fandoms and came out victorious after all.

I am probably the only person out there who cares about the big picture, the overall storyline and the worldbuilding of Miraculous in addition to all details and implications that could develop into fascinating plotlines relevant to the main story. It is a rather lonely fandom experience, I must confess. But, hey? Who cares? I am here to have fun and bring to the table discussions no one wants to have.

So, let's talk about the basics.

If you, as the writing team, are capable of keeping only 1 thing consistent, then please, I beg you, let it be the basic concepts of your universe. Because in this case, one has to actively put effort into writing characters and conflict resolutions badly. And also because nothing can save bad worldbuilding.

I don't have high worldbuilding standards for Miraculous. They certainly aren't as high as the ones I had for Legend of Korra (which was a badly written trainwreck, that ATLA doesn't deserve as a sequel) or the ones I currently have for Dragon Prince. Therefore I won't be too harsh in my criticisms. Granted, I think that Miraculous has better worldbuilding and lore consistency than Winx Club for example (I haven't seen the reboot yet, so writers might have fixed their worldbuilding at least a little bit). Even though I enjoyed Winx when I was younger and some elements of this story still attract me.

Both serialised and episodic shows as well as movies to the lesser extent must have some flexibility in worldbuilding and plot because you can never be 100% sure where your story is going. Maybe, you'll get money for more seasons, maybe not. However, you must never lose sight of your basic concepts. They have to stay the same no matter what, because rewriting lore and retconning major developments every new season is not and never will be called good writing.

Forgive me for using architectural metaphors, but you need a solid foundation to build any kind of structure. Otherwise, everything falls apart.

I like to apply this logic to writing as well. When designing a world where your story takes place, you must lay a few ground rules. It's especially important if you have a magic system. What kind of ideas absolutely must exist? What kind of conclusion do you want your story to have? Does your magic system has limitations? Where is the grey area? Could you introduce new elements later on?

And I feel like the writing team of Miraculous Ladybug did not ask these questions. This may feel like I am nit-picking canon material and looking for problems that simply aren't there, but I promise that I am not. You see, things that I am about to point out only seem small at first glance. But these details are actually the source of the largest plotholes in the series. And their presence negatively affects character development, conflicts and resolutions of said conflicts.

That doesn't mean that I have nothing good to say about the magic system of the show and its elements. There are a lot of great ideas and concepts. And some of them have the potential to contribute to the delightful story.

Let's dive right into it, shall we?

Camouflage

I have to give credit where it's due because the idea of camouflage and shapeshifting for Miraculouses is brilliant. It seems like Miraculous can't fundamentally change its type of jewellery or accessory. The ring will always be the ring but with a different ornament, colour or shape. This is true most of the time (Monkey Miraculous is an exception since it transformed into earplugs/headphones/headband/circlet) It makes sense and avoids plotholes. Grimoire doesn't have the pictures of each Miraculous in disguise for identity protection. That was very neat too. I have no comments. This concept was very good.

Also, since Marinette wore a nose ring of the Ox in "Kwamibuster" without any problem and Adrien wore Ladybug's earrings in "Reflekdoll", we can assume that you don't need to have piercings to wear a Miraculous. Miraculous just magically passes through your skin.

I'm interested to know the following. Can Kwamis recognise a camouflaged Miraculous on a person? Can the holder order them to confess the identity of this person? This shouldn't be possible for identity protection just like with Kwamis sensing each other. But more on that in later posts.

Power Levels

For a long time, we assume that there are only 7 Miraculouses. Turtle belongs to Master Fu, Gabriel has Butterfly and Peacock, Marinette and Adrien have Ladybug and Black Cat. Everything is pretty straightforward. Then it's revealed that there are more jewels and more boxes. It makes the worldbuilding interesting, but it also majorly complicates things, making them inconsistent.

Their position in the Miracle Box implies their power levels. Creation and destruction are the most powerful forces in existence, therefore they are at the top. Moreover, it makes this Box the most important, the most powerful out of all others. Su Han in "Furious Fu" calls it "Mother Miracle Box". Fox, Turtle, Bee, Butterfly and Peacock have less power than the main pair, but more than the Miraculous of the lower Zodiac tier (since they correspond with animals of the Chinese Zodiac).

1. Ladybug can create anything out of nothing (Lucky Charm, which gives what you need the most at the moment). This Miraculous can resurrect the dead, reverse the effects of the Cataclysm. The power of Miraculous Cure or Miraculous Ladybug can work in several ways:

it simply repairs the damage (puts stuff back together, heals injuries and so on)

it reverses time for the matter, restoring things back to the state they were before the destruction occurred (however, the Cure doesn't erase people's memories of everything that happened unless they were mind-controlled, frozen in place or transformed by Akuma into something else - this is an important point that I'll discuss some other time)

How does Miraculous Cure work when there are no supervillians? In NY Special Marinette just says this.

Excuse me, what? What was that? You can't do anything when the villain is gone? What the hell?

*insert here every scene where Ladybug fixed Paris after destroying akumatized/amokized object (this action causes the Akuma victim to detransform/sentimonster to disappear - villain is gone) and purifying butterfly and feather*

It was such cheap angst. I couldn't even be upset when Adrien gave up his Miraculous, because that whole situation is just stupid. But, never mind. We aren't talking about that today.

Apparently, Lucky Charm and Miraculous Cure only work when summoned to battle a specific villain. What is the point then? Huh? You can't tell me that Ladybug has the power of unlimited creation and then say that she can't repair the damage without a special Lucky Charm that was magically synchronised with specific big bad of the week.

Ladybug also can purify Akumas. It makes sense for Ladybug to have the ability to reverse the magic of less powerful Miraculous. But this power can't be applied universally. How does this power of reversal apply to different situations where there is no evil Butterfly holder? Can Ladybug reverse the magic of any Miraculous?

The unlimited power of creation introduced in season 4 ("Mr. Pidgeon 72") is another fascinating thing. On one hand, it's logical and proves the status of this Miraculous as the most powerful. On the other hand, by introducing this power, you have created a plothole. Look, Marinette can create the charm which repels Akumas. If Ladybug can create anything then what stops her from creating a tool for finding Hawkmoth (like special glasses for discovering identities or a compass)? I mean, the show says that the power of creation is unlimited, it means that the creation of such tool is possible.

2. Black Cat can destroy anything with Cataclysm, even other Miraculous. He can kill living things and turn them into ash, but not himself. This Miraculous is supposed to have other special abilities that we don't see. And they should be equal to powers of Ladybug, both in number and in potency. Unfortunately, after 3 seasons writers didn't give us anything. It makes laughable the idea of balance between Ladybug and Black Cat.

Now, to the second tier. These Miraculouses have a singular ability, but they need a second one to keep the power balanced between Zodiac and the main pair.

3. Butterfly creates champions with different superpowers. But how does the time limit of children work for Butterfly? In theory, the countdown should start right after the creation of the Akuma since for Ladybug and Chat Noir countdown starts after activation of their powers even if they don't use them. However, if the countdown of the Butterfly begins after Akuma creation then there's no point because the holder has to stay transformed to guide their champion. The charged butterfly won't have time to even grant powers before the transformation of the child-holder drops. This issue is never explored because Gabriel doesn't have a time limit. However, I feel like it should be addressed in flashbacks of past Butterfly holders for example.

This Miraculous should be less powerful than Ladybug and Black Cat. It's often not. Some Akumas are too overpowered. Stormy Weather can move the Earth away from the Sun, Timetagger can send people through time and jump through time as well, Chat Blanc destroyed the world with a single energy blast, Miraculer could steal powers of those more powerful than her by default. These are the most notable examples. One could argue that Chat Blanc was a different case. Hawkmoth simply gave the most powerful Miraculous a boost. However, we know that even without a holder (the wildest and the most powerful form of uncontrolled Miraculous magic) Plagg's Cataclysm can't destroy the universe just like that (he presumably wiped out dinosaurs and sunk Atlantis on his own without a holder). I think that the less powerful Miraculous (Butterfly) shouldn't be able to increase the power of destruction to such a degree and give Black Cat the power to destroy celestial bodies and galaxies.

Writers want us to see Hawkmoth as the formidable villain. But it's not easy because he is less powerful than your main heroes by default of your worldbuilding. Sometimes writers make the Butterfly more powerful than creation and destruction to raise the stakes, breaking the laws of their magic system. So, how do you solve this? Let Ladybug and Black Cat keep their status as the most powerful and instead of giving Hawkmoth more magical power, make him smarter, more cunning, inventive. Gabriel is a fashion designer, whose creativity makes him a very good Butterfly holder. He has a life full of experience, he knows much more about things than the main teenage characters. Catalyst was very interesting for this very reason. Gabriel sort of discovered a cheat code to boost his powers. Show us how he experiments with his powers, how he analyses his past Akumas and tries to find the most effective ones. Maybe Gabriel tries to design Akumas that can specifically neutralise Ladybug and Chat Noir. This exploration could also give writers an opportunity to explain how the powers of Butterfly work. Can he control the type of powers he grants? Can he control the appearance of Akumas? There are many things to be explored.

4. Peacock creates sentimonsters. I remember that fans were very disappointed when the power of the Peacock was revealed at the end of season 2. I was one of them. The concept of Amoks is far too similar to akumatized butterflies. Other Miraculouses have unique abilities and keywords for their powers, while Peacock just looks like Butterfly 2.0. That glowing mask effect just adds insult to injury.

You have to start by figuring out the powers of the Peacock in a normal situation. If a holder is a good person, then how does their power work? For example, make them related to sight (because of the "eye" pattern on feathers). Maybe, Peacock grants the ability to see the several possibilities of the future, but only a few minutes ahead. Maybe, this Miraculous gives you the ability to see through someone's eyes for a few minutes (and the victim is completely unaware of the intrusion). Perhaps, Peacock allows the holder to use feathers (or tiny peacocks) as cameras one at a time and be all-seeing. These feather-spies can be destroyed by the holder or disappear on their own after some time. Such power could be devastating when used against heroes in canon.

5. Bee can paralyze. This power is pretty straightforward. Once I read a fanfiction focused on very vell done Chloe Redemption, where she fights alongside Ladybug and Chat Noir. Eventually, she grows and becomes a better person. This fic ends with an Akuma battle, where LB and CN are trapped and Akuma is ready to kill them. But Chloe uses a second power of the Bee on the villain - Miraculous Stinger. It's deadly both for the holder and for the victim (because bees die when they sting someone). Chloe kills the Akuma with a Stinger before it can get LB and CN, but she too dies making the ultimate irreversible sacrifice. I will add a link if I find it again.

6. Turtle can create a shield. I don't have much to say on this either. It feels underpowered compared to others in the second tier. Maybe Turtle can also slow down opponents (because turtles aren't the fasters animals out there).

7. Fox creates illusions and acts as their puppeteer. In order to create a balance between other powers, these illusions must hold for as long as the holder needs them to. I propose this mostly because we see that Venom of the Bee lasts very long, the shield of the Turtle lasts either until it's destroyed or the holder wants to remove it, same goes for Akumas and sentimonsters who disappear only when the holder wants them to or their affected object is destroyed.

Let's talk about Zodiac tier. Miraculous of the third tier shouldn't have the second ability like more powerful ones. These powers are the most inconsistent. Even if we haven't seen all of them yet.

8. Mouse can create many small clones of the holder. It is unclear how these clones communicate with each other and how many of them this Miraculous can create. The holder can control the number of clones. This power was very convenient in "Kwamibuster" and it makes sense symbolically for the mouse. What activates the time-limit for children? Marinette didn't have any problems with it when she became Multimouse.

9. Snake can create a 5-minute time loop and has the ability to come back in time. This Miraculous feels a bit overpowered for the Miraculous of the Zodiac Tier. The holder can reset the time as many times as he/she needs to. It's was a good source of drama and trauma in "Desperada". I was honestly surprised that Adrien was capable of fighting after spending months in a loop. But this doesn't change the fact that Snake is overpowered. You can give this Miraculous the power to hypnotise or keep the time ability but place a limit on the number of resets. How does the lyre work as a weapon? Who knows? No one!

10. Dragon can shapeshift into elements: water, wind and lightning. It has the coolest transformation words hands down (Bring the Storm and Open Sky). Apparently this Miraculous doesn't have the time limit.

11. Rabbit can time travel or jump through alternative realities, even writers aren't sure. Time-travel in this show is so badly written it gives me a headache. This Miraculous shouldn't exist just like its powers. Snake belongs to the same tier, but 5 minutes and whole centuries of time jumps aren't comparable in power levels. They are not and this is the hill I will die on. Give the Rabbit powers related to its symbolism in China like an ability to de-age people, heal them or give them a speed boost in contrast with Turtle who might have the ability to slow down.

This Miraculous is so special that its Kwami - Fluff can live separately from his Miraculous in a Miracle Box for millennia (Fluff lives in the Box in "Sandboy", but his Miraculous, pocket watch, was passed down for generations in Alix's family). This is a discussion for a separate post, however. There's a lot to unpack. We'll do that some other time. You will suffer with me but at a later date.

12. Horse can create portals. They could lead anywhere, which is pretty cool. On the other hand, this power is not very useful in direct combat, especially when it's used by a child since we can have only one portal per transformation.

13. Monkey can cause a malfunction in powers of other people. What is the point of this? This power was specifically created by writers to defeat Akuma in "Party Crasher". That's it. What if your target is not magical? How does this Miraculous work in different circumstances?

14. Pig shows people their greatest desire. Both the holder and the recipient of this power can see this desire. Chat Noir wasn't impressed in "Guiltrip" and neither was I. It's underpowered compared to other Miraculous in this tier. Also, why does the tambourine can shoot energy beams? Why?

That's all I have to say on the matter. I'll update the power analysis as needed.

[necros-writing-stuff]

How do you think the love interests look ?

Oh man this changes from time to time, but currently I see them like:

Alex to me has that strawberry blonde kind of ginger. Fem Alex keeps it in a braid, masc Alex can let his get pretty long before he cuts it at time. Probably about 5ft10, with some toned muscles. A bit stocky in terms of physique, which is very useful for being on a farm. Their face is round in shape, they have freckles that run down their neck and spread across their shoulders. When they blush, it's a full body blush. Bright blue eyes, their eyes have a happy look to them. Skin has a nice tan to it, classic farmers tan though. Mostly dressed in work clothes (overalls, boots, shirts etc).

Avery has very well groomed, slightly greying hair. It's is always done in a professional way. Eyeliner sharper than Kylar's knives. In order to keep themselves as presentable as possible, you'll find them at the gym at least three times a week. They have a four pack, lean muscles. Probably about 6ft2, with their face having more angular features. Their eyes look almost cruel at times with an Amber colour to them. Could see them as having south Asian heritage. Typically in all black suits (pencil skirts for fem) and doesn't know what the word casual means.

Black Wolf is, well, covered in black fur. Hair is very unruly and long, could use some grooming. Tall and built (since they have best food privilege). I'm thinking they might be around 6ft4. Extremely intimidating gaze, their yellow eyes just pierce right into you in a way that makes you think they can tell how scared you are (they can).

Eden I see as rugged. Their hair is brown, left in a messy wolf-cut kind of mullet. Will use a headband to push the fringe out of their eyes if they can't be bothered to cut it. About 6ft4, and they're fucking ripped. Covered in scars, has a snail trail and masc Eden has some hair on his chest. He also has some light stubble on his face (even when he shaves in the morning it seems to grow back straight away). They have a scar on their left cheek, and their face is usually set in a scowl. Prominent jaw. Their eyes are brown and look very tired when you catch them in a vulnerable moment. Has a tan to their skin, and usually covered in dirt after a hunt. I do hc them as looking a little like Hugh Dancy and Zach McGowan (especially as Roan). Wears earthy tones, typically wool, fur and leather.

Great Hawk has these almost golden feathers (and hair, in harpy form). Doesnt cut their hair, so it's incredibly long but they groom well. Tall, but lanky at about 6ft5. Very slim form, but its heavily muscled. The talons on their feet are as long and sharp as a kassowary's. Eyes are golden brown. Another LI with very angular features.

Kylar has their black hair in a very mop like form. Short king/queen, about 5ft3. This gamer has a squishy tummy! They spend all of their time drawing and playing games, no way do they have toned muscles. Makes them very scrappy in a fight. Their green eyes are wide, kind of like Elijah Woods eyes. Makes them look even more youthful than they already do. Very soft skin, too. I'm thinking Caribbean descent? Lives in a black hoodie and sweats, but I can't decide if they're converse or vans.

Robin is very boy/girl next door. For male Robin, go look up Alex Pettyfer in Storm Chaser, thats him. Fem Robin keeps her hair at her shoulders, no fringe. Hair is pretty straight and dirty blonde. About 5ft8. Has a fairly average body type, you can feel some muscle and there's pudge, but they don't put much more effort in to their physique. More of a square face shape. Likes wearing bright colours.

Whitney is vain. Sandy blonde, has the signature over the eye fringe. Masc Whitney has an undercut, fem keeps hers in a messy ponytail. About 5ft11 (says they're 6ft), very athletic body type that they try to maintain as much as possible. Very quick. Has a diamond face shape, brown eyes. Looks kind when they aren't glaring (which the do most of the time). Very full lips. Paler skin, burns pretty easily in the sun. Multiple ear piercings. Sense of fashion is very messy on purpose. Wears a chain around their neck at times. And I mean a real chain, not a cheap jewelry one. Its heavy and has been used as a weapon.

[voiceless-terror]

Hi ily and I love bothering people with prompts, so I'm requesting "a character who’s so exhausted his hands are trembling, his eyes are dull/unfocused, he’s starting to hallucinate… and his team needs him to stay awake" with Jon and literally anyone at any time (except s5 because it's too emotionally taxing for me to keep up with oop-)

Hello there, Shannon! Here you go! This takes place in Season Two, when all is not great with the Archives team. Hope you like! <3

“And you’re sure this requires all four of us?”

“Yes, Jon,” Elias sighed, his annoyance clear even through the phone. “Believe it or not, I am trying to help you. You’ve managed to alienate almost all of your staff, so perhaps this will do you some good. You seem to enjoy ‘following-up’ these days, unlike in your first months in the position.”

That stung a bit.

It wasn’t his fault someone had died in the Archives, and that someone happened to be his predecessor. It was a natural reaction to feel some paranoia, though he will admit he might have gone a little...overboard, in some of his investigations. Tim certainly thought so. Sasha was her usual cool, aloof self avoiding him as much as possible. Martin was the only one that treated him the same, probably better than he deserved after accusing the man of being a possible murderer. He dragged him out to lunches and hovered in the evenings when Jon stayed late. He was the one who accompanied him to the clinic after his incident with Michael. Jon couldn’t help the ache that went through his chest when he saw Martin still in the lobby, waiting to take him home and fussing over his bandages. 

Walking him to his door.

And now Elias, of all people, was deciding to be more ‘hands-on’ after the intervention. The intervention where even Martin held him at arm's length, though he was still the friendliest face in the room. If this meant keeping his job, he would do it. 

Though he wasn’t so sure he even liked his job anymore. But Jon kept pushing forward. He needed answers. 

Telling his assistants was another story. 

He stood in front of them, knowing he looked a mess. He’d seen himself in the mirror this morning after another failed attempt at rest. His hair was a mess, the dark circles under his eyes were turning a lurid purple. He looked waxy and gaunt and nothing he could do now would fix it. So he kept drinking his tepid black coffee and cheap energy drinks; frankly, they were the only thing keeping him going.

Nevertheless, he didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“Seriously, Jon?” Tim wasn’t fond of using ‘boss’ anymore, not unless he was feeling particularly vicious. “It would be fine with two of us. Me and Martin can go and take shifts. You look like the living dead.”

“Tim,” Martin admonished, shooting him a look. “He’s right, though. You don’t look well, and I don’t think an all-night stake out is what you need right now. I mean, why are we even following up on this? It’s just some ‘vampire’ sighting that’s not going to pan out. Don’t we have more important things to be focusing on?”

“Elias insisted,” Jon tried for apologetic but must have missed the mark, judging by Tim’s narrowing eyes. “I’m- I wouldn’t make you do this, but I’m afraid-”

“Why does Elias even care about this?” Tim interrupted, slamming his drawer shut dramatically. The sound made Jon flinch- that wasn’t hard to do these days. “Did you even try to get out of it?”

“Of course I did,” Jon bristled. “I know- I know the last thing anyone wants to do is spend time with me. This wasn’t my idea-”

“That’s a bit hard to believe, Jon,” Sasha’s voice was mocking, though it remained light and easy. Sasha was always ready with a barb or a joke, mostly at Jon’s expense. “I’d think you’d enjoy this sort of thing- stalking, investigating. Or is that just with your co-workers?”

Tim snickered. Even Martin had a bit of a smile on his face, though he tried to hide it. Jon felt his face flush red. 

“That’s not,” Jon began a defense but quickly backtracked, knowing it would be futile. “Elias wanted us to go tomorrow night. It’s about thirty minutes away, so if you don’t mind driving, Tim-”

“Anything for you, boss,” Tim muttered. “If you could try sleeping before then, that would be great. I filled my quota on catching you collapsing on the job.” The words were unnecessarily sharp and hurt Jon more than he cared to admit. He remembered a time when Tim was always around to lend him a hand, conscientious and kind. But he’d gone and ruined that now, hadn't he?

“I’ll be fine,” Jon straightened his back, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Tim snorted and turned back to his desk, Sasha did the same. Martin just stood there, giving Jon an appraising eye. It made him feel like he failed an exam or came up short on an examination.

This should be fun.

_______

Sleep eluded him for all but an hour that night. The face that greeted him in the morning looked even more horrific than the day before; Tim wasn’t far off in his assessment. He said as much as Jon entered the office.

“Christ, this is going to be fun,” Tim rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair as Jon hunched in on himself, defensively clutching his extra-large coffee.

“I did sleep,” he bit out, avoiding the man’s eyes. It was true.

“Sure. Just try taking a fucking nap this afternoon, okay?” The words sounded almost concerned, but Jon knew better. “I’m not listening to you snore in the backseat all night.”

“I’ll try,” Jon grumbled as he exited the room. A sudden sting hit his hand and he hissed; coffee had spilled from the lid of his to-go cup and was now running a scalding stream down his arm. His hand was shaking, a steady and insistent tremor that refused to calm despite his best efforts. 

I’ll sleep this afternoon, he promised himself. Something’s gotta give eventually, right?

_______

Jon was wrong. Just my luck.

After two fruitless hours of tossing and turning, he finally gave up, leaving the office to grab a couple of energy drinks that he could hide in his bag. And now he was loaded in the backseat of Tim’s car, his heartbeat erratic and his chest tight. Martin had provided them all with coffee, though he handed Jon his with some reluctance.

“Are you sure you’re okay-”

“For the last time, yes, Martin!” The words came out harsher than he intended and Martin flinched back, avoiding Jon’s eyes as he got into the passenger seat beside Tim. “Don’t yell, Jon,” Tim commanded as he started the car. “God, you always were a right bastard when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“M’ sorry, Martin,” he mumbled to the ground. It was easier to focus on something stationary- whenever he looked out the window, his vision blurred and nausea churned in his stomach. And that’s why you don’t have energy drinks on an empty stomach. Stupid, stupid.

“It’s fine, Jon.” It didn’t feel fine.

By the time they arrived at the park where the supposed sightings took place, it was already dark. Tim had the radio playing softly in the background as he and Martin murmured in the front seats, a low sound Jon couldn’t hear. He wondered if they were talking about him.

Not everything’s about you. He shivered in his seat, drawing his coat tighter around his body. Sasha shot him a glance; she always had the hint of a smile on her lips, cold and calculating. As if Jon’s situation was amusing to her. Maybe it is.

He wished Martin was back here with him. Martin was warm, solid, and steady; Jon craved that, embarrassing as it was. But Martin likely didn’t want to be around him; unsurprising, with how Jon’s behaved.

The steady drone of sound was pleasant, a nice background hum that relaxed him incrementally. The occasional heart palpitations were starting to slow, and Jon felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. It was a sweet, blissful relief- surely a small nap wouldn’t be terrible, just enough to keep him going through the night-

A sharp jab in his side jolted him awake. He shot up with a yelp to find Sasha smirking, her face unreadable. “Don’t sleep on the job, boss.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, rubbing at his eyes and wishing for just a short reprieve. But the blurriness was worse now and his heart was back to its erratic rhythm- Sasha’s rude awakening had done its job.

“Maybe try looking out the window,” Tim suggested sarcastically. “We are here to do a job, you know. Not so you can zone out and sleep.”

“R-Right.” Jon didn’t mention that nobody else seemed to be doing the same. Still, he focused on the dim light emanating from the one streetlamp in the park. It was just an empty field at the edge of the woods. It would be hard to miss anything.

This went on for an hour, Sasha continually nudging him awake whenever he started to drift off. She was probably doing him a favor- who knows what horrors lurked in his nightmares, and the last thing he needed was to wake up screaming like a lunatic. He imagined word getting round to Elias that he was falling apart, even more unstable than previously thought. 

And then something moved out of the corner of his eye- a small, dark shadow was standing in the middle of the park, barely visible by the light of the streetlamp. Jon let out a choked gasp as he leaned forward, hitting the back of Tim’s seat.

“L-Look!” he whispered urgently, pointing ahead. “Someone- someone’s there?”

“Where, Jon?” Sasha’s voice beside him was amused, playful. “I don’t see a thing.”

“Right there!” He insisted, and as if on cue the figure began moving forward, edging closer to the light. “It’s moving!” 

“Jon,” Tim started, looking back at him with an inquisitive gaze. His voice was slow and measured. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing there.”

“There is!” He was aware he was begging now, a pathetic plea to just look, it’s right there, can’t you see?

Martin reached a hand to his shoulder, all concern and worry. “Jon, I promise you there’s-”

And that’s when the figure revealed itself, standing clear under the light. It was a woman, tall and sad. Her long hair was pulled back from her face with a headband, and she had round glasses and looked so, so familiar-

Sasha, his mind supplied. That’s not right. Sasha’s right beside him.

Sasha. It was insistent this time. Jon put a shaking hand to the door handle and wrenched it open, practically falling out of the car as the others protested behind him. But he paid them no mind and stumbled forward on weak legs. There were footsteps behind him but it didn’t matter because Sasha’s there Sasha’s there-

And then she was gone.

The park was silent and still, almost serene. And Jon stood under the lamp, his chest heaving and his heart racing until he collapsed in the soft, dewy grass. Sasha was in the car. Sasha wasn’t here. But it doesn’t make sense. He gagged, hands and knees digging into the earth as nothing came up but a small amount of bile and coffee. A hand went to his shoulder but he wrenched it off, a frustrated moan bubbling out of his throat as his eyes filled with tears.

“Sasha was here,” he wailed, no longer caring if he made a scene. “Sasha was here!”

“Jon? Oh fuck, oh God what do we do, something’s wrong-”

“Just pick him up, Martin, get him back in the car!”

Jon was hauled to his feet but his legs were shaky and useless; Martin cursed and scooped him up instead, unbearably gentle. He tugged at Martin’s shirt, desperate for someone to listen. “Sasha,” he hiccupped but Martin just hushed him, squeezing him tighter to his chest. 

“Sasha’s in the car, Jon,” He whispered soothingly as Tim opened the car door. “See? Right there!” Sasha, with her wrong smile and her wrong face and her cold, cold hands-

Jon let out a shriek, thrashing and kicking as Martin tried to place him in the backseat by that thing. “No no no,” he cried and tugged at Martin’s jumper. “I don’t want to I don’t want to-”

“Get in the front, Sash,” Tim commanded, something unreadable in his eyes. “He’s not going to stop freaking out until you do. Martin can sit in the back.”

“So fussy,” she said mildly as she opened the door and did as Tim said. “Is he going to be okay?”

Jon could barely follow the conversation as Martin awkwardly crawled into the backseat and tried to maneuver him into his seatbelt. But Jon couldn’t let go because Martin was real and there and the only thing holding him together at the moment. 

“Just drive,” Martin’s voice was hard and unlike him, but he squeezed Jon tighter to his chest and that was all he needed to finally give into the darkness at the edge of his vision.

_____

When he next woke he was tucked into a bed- his own, strangely. Light filtered gently into the room and Jon felt like he’d been run over by a truck several times over; every part of him aching and groaning as he attempted to sit up. 

“Jon?”

Martin stood in the doorway, the picture of anxiety and worry. “God, I thought you’d never wake!” He hurried over to the side of the bed and placed a hand to his forehead that Jon leaned into. “You don’t feel warm. You’ve been asleep for almost sixteen hours. Are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay,’” Jon croaked, leaning back into the pillows. Sixteen hours but he still felt like hammered shit. “What- what happened? Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” Martin’s voice somehow managed to sound more worried. “God, you were- you were really out of it, Jon. Ranting about Sasha- you wouldn’t get near her. I thought we should take you to the hospital but Tim insisted you wouldn’t like that.” Tim was always the one who knew him best. “He had a key so we dropped you off, but I thought someone should stay behind- I mean, is that okay? I don’t want to overstep or anything, but you were really bad and I couldn’t-”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon cut him off gently. It was touching, in a way, that Martin would want to look out for him after the fit he apparently threw. “I, uh- thank you, I guess.”

“Really, it’s no problem,” Martin said, leaning back on his heels and fiddling with his hands. “I-I didn’t want to leave you alone, and I didn’t think you’d want to wake up to Tim or Sasha-”

“God,” Jon groaned and slumped over in bed, shame coursing through his veins. ‘“I’ll have to apologize to her tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Martin agreed, though not unkindly. “But I think she’ll understand. You were exhausted, it’s not like you meant it.” I suppose that’s true, he thought. Just my paranoia out of control.

“I’ll make us some tea. You stay in bed, okay?” 

“A-Alright.” Martin turned to leave the room but a thought logged itself in Jon’s brain and he reached a hand out to stop him. “Did you stop anywhere beforehand?” he asked. “Like the institute, o-or maybe Tim’s place?”

“No,” Martin replied, a puzzled look on his face. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows, feeling utterly drained. “It’s nothing.”

Martin exited the room and Jon tried not to think about the key he gave Tim ages ago, back when they visited each other with some regularity. 

And the idea that it was still on his keychain, waiting to be used.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457939

[spiralhigh]

ranking the sdr2 cast by how much their formal wear hits

this is just my opinion, but my opinions are great and i know what i’m talking about! this will be long so it’s under a cut

S TIER:

s tier is reserved for only the best of them all, the cream of the crop, the fit that i would gladly lay down my life for. s tier is the crown jewel. s tier is what everyone else should strive to be... but only one can take the prize.

#1: AKANE OWARI

the undisputed champion. this look is everything to me. EVERYTHING. the red-trim cape with the fur. the contrast of the airy, gathered blouse with those skin-tight shiny (leather? vinyl??) pants. the pumps. the belt that screams disco style. the necklace accentuating the tasteful titty window. the red white and gold color scheme  are you FUCKING WITH ME miss owari this look could bring ARMIES to their KNEES in an INSTANT. whoever drew this deserves full creative control of the danganronpa franchise and i’m not kidding

A TIER:

a tier is for the fits that frankly own bones. they’re not as jaw-dropping and legendary as owari, but they’re still razor as hell and deserve to be met with riotous applause.

#2: KAZUICHI SOUDA

kazuichi, i didn’t know you had it in you, but this FUCKS. the character of the pins on the lapels, the sneakers, and the mispinned tie. the absolute CLASS of the suspenders, watch, and tiny round glasses. the handsome slick in the hair now that the greasy beanie is gone. the tasteful highwater. he looks like the host of the larry king show if the larry king show was exclusively about ska bands and he has never looked better

#3: HIYOKO SAIONJI

tell me this isn’t the cutest shit. the colors here are EXQUISITE. the bright notes from the blue on top, the way the soft pink is a perfect middle ground of the pink + white flowers on her sleeves, the subtle way the green in her bow matches the green in her collar, the white petals breaking up the sky blue that might otherwise look out of place? remarkable. stunning.

#4: PEKO PEKOYAMA

the ELEGANCE is EVERYTHING here. the monochrome is offset by just a splash of red that ties everything together with her eyes and the flower in her hair, the checkerboard pattern is visually interesting but not distracting, and her hair in that loose ponytail with the little white ribbon? ugh. ADORABLE! but most of all, look at those BOOTS. those CUTE LITTLE HEELS on those SICK LACE-UP BOOTS..... QUEEN shit!!!

#5: CHIAKI NANAMI

rounding out our a tier is chiaki in this adorable little dress just LOOK at her!!! she looks like a little rose, a perfect flouncy skirt with a glittery mesh overlay, a fun and fresh over-the-shoulder collar, a fucking big old bow tied in the back?? i can literally feel the way this dress would feel in my hands. it’s simple and perfect and frankly a GORGEOUS color on her this is flawless

B TIER:

b tier is a perfectly respectable place to be. these fits lack the lustre and flavor of the a tier entries, but they’re still dressed to impress and they still look fine as hell.

#6: TERUTERU HANAMURA

say what you will about teruteru (and i do) but this suit is ADORABLE and it fits in with his theme + talent better than any other mfer on this list. the tasteful white/brown/red palette gives it a flashy chocolate cookie look, which is amplified in the fun pattern on the jacket. the chef’s hat switching out for a little top hat and the way the cumberbund looks a lil bit like a chocolate bar is also VERY cute

#7: THE IMPOSTOR

now on its own, the suit is just alright. a vibrant pinstripe blue three-piece with the classic red tie wouldn’t land the impostor in b tier on its own... but that FUR COAT, LUXURIOUSLY DRAPED OVER THE SHOULDERS does WONDERS to pull this look together. not only is it worn with “yeah, it’s real mink, no, you can’t touch it” confidence, but it also ties the otherwise arbitrary white loafers into the structure of the look. it’s subtle and class as hell.

C TIER

c tier is full of looks that are... fine, but ultimately either are boring, lack cohesion, or have a confusing design choice or two that make it hard to get all that amped about. c tier is a passing grade, but nothing more.

#8: NAGITO KOMAEDA

there’s a lot that’s good about this outfit, but there’s also a lot that doesn’t really work. let’s start with the good: the slutty loose bowtie and collar, the tight-fitting vest that ends before the hipbones so you can see the belt, the cute little ponytail? (chefs kiss) exquisite, all of it. but the suit itself is boring as sing, and who the hell decided to put the t-shirt symbol on the sleeves??? was it to add visual flavor to an otherwise bland suit? this does NOT have the black/white/red elegance that peko had.

#9: FUYUHIKO KUZURYUU

the silver and gold mob-boss look, complete with matching shoes vest and fedora, are a nice nod to fuyuhiko’s talent! the plaid is teetering on the edge between fun and garish to me, but the fact that it’s consistent and the only pattern means it isn’t too offensive. quick question though: why are his pant legs rolled up like that?? this isn’t a cute “cuffed at the ankle” look, dude looks like he had to wade across a pond to get to the venue. what gives

#10: GUNDAM TANAKA

out of everyone here, gundam’s suit might be the most boring of all. the scarf is just his normal scarf. the red tie and trim don’t do anything to tie the look together. the only mild point of interest is the asymmetrical vest, and i can’t even tell if that’s intentional. simply put, this “““fancy”““ outfit isn’t even in the same ZIP CODE as the level of ostentatious chuuni that gundam serves us every single day in his casual wear. maybe even worse than being ugly... it’s disappointing.

#11: IBUKI MIODA

now, look. is this dress buckwild and ugly as hell? yes. but you know what else it is? it is IBUKI MIODA’S DRESS. there might not be a single cohesive thing about this dress aside from its color scheme. the huge poofy ruffles of the skirt and arm things with the spiked bow and corset are baffling. the artist somehow managed to draw the awkward, clumping shape of the skirt to make it look exactly like an emergency cosplay sewn four hours before a convention. frankly, i can’t justify ranking it as a c! but i’m doing it anyway, because the sheer level of craftsmanship demands it, and in this house we respect diy queens that are totally off the shits.

D TIER:

d tier is for outfits that aren’t offensive, exactly... but like, they sure don’t look good! d tier is not a respectable place to be. those in d tier won’t be laughed out of the ceremony in shame, but they should really run their outfit by someone else first next time.

#12: NEKOMARU NIDAI

now don’t get me wrong: i have nothing but respect for the titties-out look. keeping the shirt unbuttoned all the way down to where the lapels of the jacket end? that’s sexy as hell. however, this flawless idea has a confusing execution. why emerald green and orange? what’s with the... long-sleeved printed (hawaiian?) shirt? why the red pocket square? and the jacket itself, while fitted perfectly along the chest and midsection, has a weird, unflattering scallop shape flaring out at the bottom. i want to like this fit, but there are just too many bad choices.

#13: HAJIME HINATA

oh, hajime... literally nothing about this ensemble is it. the creamy manila suit might have had potential if there were literally any color variation in the vest (or potentially shoes) to give it a little more shape, or even if you just went with a white shirt underneath it! i could get behind a light, off-monochrome look! but that leprechaun-green shirt is downright perplexing to me. it looks like a mistake! did you get dressed in the dark? did you spill something on your other shirt? this is a mess.

F TIER:

f tier is inexcusable. f tier should never have happened. how does it get this bad. who did this? who’s responsible for this?

#14: SONIA NEVERMIND

y’know, the colors are pretty! i dig the white and teal! but... girl... what the fuck is this construction. the ruffles are all over the place. the bodice looks like it has less fabric than space it needs to cover. the bottom half of the skirt looks like it was sewn on as an afterthought because the top half was too short for dress code. what’s with the weird choker collar detached from everything else. why is the hairband a slightly different shade of green. so many decisions were made here and none of them are flattering

#15: MAHIRU KOIZUMI

yknow, i like the idea behind this. i can see what you were going for! the dress on its own might have worked, even! but everything else about it is just... so ugly. what the fuck is happening with those shoes??? the sheer black tights aren’t the sexy OL look you think they are. the collar of the dress looks like it’s... braided for some reason??? those earrings are so huge for no payoff, statement jewelry with nothing to say, and worst of all... that headband. GIRL. that headband and that belt...... there’s nothing here. also i love orange but it’s not her color.

and finally... the worst.

#16: MIKAN TSUMIKI

what the fuck. what the fuck is this. this is straight up cheap rubber fetish gear. why is the HAT rubber? that skirt ruffle makes this look like fucking polly pocket clothes. why the fuck is she wearing that. the clothes are so bad that it makes her hair look like rubber too. was she dared to wear this? is this some cruel punishment? i don’t even know what to say. this is the worst possible outfit. there is not even one redeeming quality about it.

[candlelight27]

Chapter 3: I Chase Your Shadow

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: ATTEMPTED ASSAULT (!!!), Alcohol drinking, swear words, kissing

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 4907

AO3: I Chase Your Shadow

A/N:  I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading and sticking by. And, as always, leave a comment if you have any suggestion, request, question or just feel like it! My asks are always open, too!

Sylvain 18:35: What are you wearing? 😉

Sylvain 18:36: Just kidding hahaha

Sylvain 18:36: Although I want to know what’s your costume

You held back a laugh reading Sylvain’s messages. He was truly something else.

You 18:37: Top secret

“Is he texting you again?”, Dorothea asked, mascara in hand. You couldn’t see her expression, but you certainly knew the corners of her lips were curling upwards.

“So what?”, you answered feigning weariness.

Your brunette friend was applying the finishing touches to her makeup in front of your bathroom mirror. There were cases, brushes, pencils, shadows and liners everywhere, all varying shades of red and nude. The living room was in the same situation because Mercedes and Annette had insisted on helping Ingrid get her Halloween costume ready. Ingrid complained, of course, since ‘knights didn’t wear make-up’, but who could ever deny Mercedes? Not you, and not Ingrid either.

You were sitting upon the lid of the toilet, observing Dorothea’s carful movements. You weren’t going all out like she did. You had a black dress that you liked and cheap fake blood you found on a trip to the supermarket – this hectic year you had no time to prepare.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…” She turned around, her emerald irises glistening. “You are totally at his mercy.”

“I’m not”, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I thought I taught you well. But I guess that’s what happens when your first love strikes you…” She took the brightest shadow of red lipstick she could find in her purse and began applying it.

“That’s totally wrong!”, you protested, putting your phone a way to prove your point.

However, Dorothea was painfully right, as always. You had developed a soft spot for a certain redhead. In fact, you’d dare to say you hadn’t felt anything this intense for him before.

Had it been any other person, it wouldn’t be a problem. But it was Sylvain. The root of all evil. You didn’t trust him at all. Wasn’t it very suspicious that he all of a sudden was paying you attention? He might just want to hook up a couple of times and then disappear, because he had just ended his available catalogue of other women. Was he really like that? You’ve certainly seen him act like that. You’d better stay away from him. But what you felt around him had you addicted.

“So now you are telling me that if tonight he gets you cornered in a room at Hilda’s…” Dorothea lowered her voice, a husky whisper, to avoid the other girls from hearing her. “If he presses his – rather hot, not going to lie here – body against you and leans in all bothered… and then kisses you… you are going to say no. And then remain friends.”

“Yes!”, you lied with all the dignity you could muster.

“I don’t believe you!”, she shouted. In between laughs you threw at her a roll of toilet paper that moved her fake horns. “Stop! Don’t ruin my look, I’m almost finished.”

Dorothea faced you and fixed her cleavage. She was wearing a tight-fitting red dress made out of a velvet-like material, along with headband topped with red horns and a fake tail. The only thing she was missing was a trident.

“You make a good demon”, you commented, tilting your head.

“I’m a succubus. It’s not the same”, she pointed out.

“Of course.”

“Wait, what are you going to wear?”, she stepped closer to you. She inspected you from top to the bottom.

“This”, you stood up and gestured your own black dress with both hands.

“What?” She crossed her arms. “You need a costume!”

“I’m going to put on some fake blood too”, you answered. “I didn’t have time to prepare something else.”

“I’m already seeing the disappointment in Sylvain’s eyes.” She shook her head and tried to reach the doorknob. Then it hit you that you had been meaning to tell her something entirely different.

“Wait, Dorothea.”

“Yes?”, she seemed confused.

“I’ve been having nightmares lately. A lot of them.”

“About what?” Her tone was serious.

“It’s kind of weird.” You scratched your head. It was hard to put together all the scenes that appeared out of thin air at night. “The atmosphere is… like those movies Ingrid watches. But the characters are us. And there’s a war going on. There’s blood, death… I see everyone dying. And I dream that… someone with a speak goes right through my chest and I wake up with this unsettling pain where it hit.” You pointed the exact area.

“That’s worrying… Maybe you’ll have to see Manuela in the clinic.” She looked in deep thought. “Could it be the pressure from university?”

“Perhaps…”

You both went out of the bathroom to meet the other girls. Dorothea was watching you with the corner of her eye, and you feared that you might have worried her over nothing.  

“Dorothea, you are breathtaking!”, said Mercedes as she saw her.

“Thank you”, the brunette smiled. “You are not so bad yourself as a …nun?”

“I love this costume! It always scares all the kids”, she laughed. And you wouldn’t have expected less of the queen of ghost stories.

The sight of her was unsettling. There was dark paint all over under her eyes and her lips that formed a stark contrast with the white base underneath. On the other hand, Ingrid was dressed as a knight, as she did every year. No surprises there. She looked ready to go jousting in any moment. Annette was dressed in a black outfit, completed by car ears and whiskers.

“I love Halloween!”, Mercedes exclaimed. “It’s my favourite holiday. Should we try an Ouija board session?”

“No way”, said Annette with wide eyes.

“I’ll pass too”, added Dorothea.

“What a shame. I’m going to get a glass of water,” Mercedes announced. She then said your name. “Care to join me?”

“Sure.”

You could hear the muffled sound of the conversation in the living room from the kitchen. Your hand reached for a glass in the cabinet. You filled it with water and offered it to Mercedes. She politely muttered a thank you, and drunk it slowly, not taking her eyes off you.

“I wanted to talk to you about something”, she paused, prudent as always, waiting for your response.

“What about?” You leant against the counter.

“It’s about Sylvain.”

The fact was not unforeseen at all. However, the fact that it was Mercedes carrying the message was unusual. You hadn’t seen her step in anyone’s affairs, so it must be serious. You gulped.

“I’m all ears.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. He hates women.” You remained silent, waiting for her explanation. “I’m her friend, and I’ve been for a long time. And I’ve had a lot of conversations with him… When a woman shows any interest in him, he thinks they’re after his family’s fortune, that they just want to brag of their relationship.”

“And what should I do with that information?” You said sceptically. You already knew all of that – you weren’t blind – but you didn’t see where she was going.

“I think you should be aware in case you are pursuing a romantic relationship with him.” She breathed in deeply. “I’m not saying he’s a bad person – I don’t think he is –, but he isn’t precisely nice when it comes to his girlfriends. Apparently he hasn’t always been like this… There were a few girls who took advantage of him, confirmed his fears, and now he feels entitled to use people as he wants. He can be the worst. And I’m afraid your feelings are pretty serious.”

“I’m not-”

“I don’t want him to break your heart. Even if you are made for each other, even if he seems completely in love with you, be careful. Anything can happen, because people who have been hurt often hurt others too.” She diverted her gaze.

“Are you telling me that I should just forget him?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, I just can give you my point of view. I don’t think he’s incapable of love… When he talks about you, he’s all happy and true. I’d never seen him like that. But I’ve also seen so many girls that tried to change him and failed…”  

“That’s… hard to process,” you replied as you let out a nervous giggle. “But I think I can’t just move on.”

“Whatever you do, I’ll be here, okay?” Mercedes touched your shoulder lightly. “Let’s head back.”

 The sky was dark and the moon was full. Your group walked down the main street to go to Hilda’s home, which was the closest to the campus. Her parents weren’t home, so she and Holst thought it would be a great idea to throw a party. None complained. Almost everyone you knew in high school was invited.

You weren’t exactly nervous. But Sylvain was going to be there and, even though there was some excitement within you, your mind was too busy second-guessing yourself and arousing doubt.

“What did Mercedes say?”, Dorothea whispered when the other three girls were distracted. She was always on the lookout for some gossip, just like Claude.

“She just wanted to warn me about the fact that Sylvain hates women,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, it’s not untrue.” She smiled. “I’m sure she had good intentions.”

“I know, Dorothea. But it only makes me feel worse hearing it from the only person who had ever defended him.”

“Did it change anything though?” She placed her hand on your back Sympathetically.

“That’s the problem, it didn’t.”

“My poor baby.” She caressed your arm. “You look tired.”

“It must be the nightmares”, you concluded. “I couldn’t sleep that much yesterday.”

“Have fun today, will you? Everything will turn out fun if you do what your heart tells you.”

“That’s unexpectedly non-cynical coming from you”, you remarked, a smirk forming.

“Shush. You love me.” You hummed in agreement.

“Dorothea?”, Annette called her, turning around to locate her. “Where is Petra?”

“I still haven’t met her!”, exclaimed Ingrid.

“She must be already there! She went with Edelgard and Hubert,” answered Dorothea. “At first I wanted her to spend more time with other people but now I’m starting to miss the first few weeks when we were always together!”

As you arrived, Hilda opened the door. Her long, pink hair was tied back in a pony tail. She wore a white, lacy dress, and despite the beautiful eyeliner, she was kind of blue and had scars drawn all over her. You guessed she was a zombie bride. She had that sweet and satisfied smile of hers and a beer can on one of her delicate hands.

“Welcome, welcome! Come in! There’s a lot of people who will come later but we’ve already started. Ah, Petra’s waiting for you, Dorothea,” she said as she let you in the house.

“I’ll find her,” she said as she disappeared into the luxurious house. “Thanks!”

Mercedes, Anette and Ingrid entered too. Hilda was waiting for you, the last on line, on the doorframe. She winked at you.

“And you… Sylvain is coming in half an hour…”, she coyly remarked. “He’s coming with Felix, Dimitri and their brothers.”

“And that’s important because…?”, you played dumb.

“Not my business. Claude said that I should let you know”, she smirked. “Come in, let’s have a drink.”

 Hilda hadn’t lied. The music was roaring, and all the rooms were filled with people occupying themselves in the entailments of a party. Right after you greeted everyone, when you were the tiniest bit tipsy, you saw Sylvain arrive, along with Dimitri and Felix. He commented something to his brother, Miklan, who went away with Glenn, leaving the trio alone. Sylvain’s brother looked angry and aggressive – the opposite of the atmosphere of the place, and you had a bad feeling about him. He was known for causing trouble, but you hoped Glenn and Holst could keep him at bay.

Felix and Dimitri weren’t wearing anything remarkable. Dimitri, a white shirt on his torso and a plastic sword on hand, took advantage of his eyepatch to look like a pirate, while Felix had a scary-looking mask on. Quite the opposite was their redhead friend. He was wearing a cliché vampire costume, cloak and fangs included. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway. It was totally in character for Sylvain.

“Admiring the prey?”, Claude’s voice resonated on you back, startling you.

“Claude, are you a furry?”, you laughed as you saw him.

“I’m the big bad wolf!”, he deadpanned. “You forgot to say hi to your sweetheart, by the way.” He whispered, then yelled. “Hey, Sylvain!”

“Claude!” Sylvain waved him. However, when his eyes met your form, he turned serious. He acknowledged you with a nod. You wanted to approach him, but you were unsettled.

Right before you could do anything else, the Almyran grabbed your arm and muttered a ‘let’s go’. Both of you disappeared into a corridor filled with portraits of Hilda’s family members that led to the kitchen. Right before going into your destination, you stopped.

“What are you doing?”, you asked.

“We’re going to play never have I ever with Hilda in the kitchen”, he smiled.

“What’s with all the rush? She’s not going anywhere, it’s her house.” You withdrew from him. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to greet Sylvain.”

“We’re setting the trap, don’t worry,” he winked. “Sylvain’s going to fall onto your arms tonight.”

“No, no, no”, you stated. Mercedes’ words resonated in your head, which further entangled all your thoughts about anything related to Sylvain. “No romance today. It’s a bad idea,” you said unconvinced.

“I think you are not telling everything to me, but it’s happening. I have a sixth sense for that.” You grimaced. “Don’t believe me? Then let’s bet! If by 2 a.m. you have kissed him, you’ll give me your dessert for three weeks.”

“And if I win?” It seemed easy, right? Just stay away from Sylvain all night, and there wouldn’t be any trouble.

“I’ll take you on a date”, he affirmed without hesitation. It shocked you that he wanted a date.

“It seems like a win-win for you.”

“I’ll also give you my dessert, okay?” he sighed.

“Seems fair, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Are you sure about that?” He smiled mysteriously, went into the kitchen and, being the natural at social gatherings he was, took a shot glass and filled it to the brim.

There were a lot of Hilda and Claude’s classmates partaking in the game, while your other friends were scattered throughout the multiple rooms. Holst, dressed as the zombie groom to his little sister, popped in from time to time to either get more booze or control the situation.

The hours passed by and you lost track of all the people you were interacting with, but everyone seemed very cheerful. There were a lot of sweets – it was Halloween after all – and pizza. You remembered that at some point you shared a conversation with Petra after those booze games, and she talked a lot about Brigid and how she missed it.

Another highlight was when you heard a ruckus about someone trying to contact spirits with a makeshift Ouija. You suspected it was Mercedes trying to scare anyone. And Hilda held a costume contest where the only judge was herself and the main price was helping her with her homework. Many people participated. There were films playing in the living room and techno music coming from upstairs. Petra and Dorothea were stuck together all the time, which was a little weird for you since your brunette friend used parties as a way to find a good catch. All in all, everyone seemed to be having fun.

Perched in the safety of a sofa with Claude and Dimitri – who, by the way, didn’t dare to speak with you out of shyness -, you were having a marathon of the worst gore-horror-sci-fi movies you could find. As time passed, you observed there were couples sneaking away, going to Sothis-know-where, and some of them came back dishevelled, others simply vanished.

You watched the clock. 1:56 a.m. No sight of Sylvain. You wanted with all your heart to look for him and talk because you hadn’t interacted with him yet. Maybe there was no harm in that. Claude had been following you like a lost puppy all night, so it had been easy to ignore the urge, but now… The youngest of the Gautier brothers had been talking to older girls, passing right next to where you were. You almost dared to say he was trying to make you jealous.

You stood up and went to another lounge where there was music. Incredibly, Felix was dancing with Anette. You guessed Sylvain could be there.

But then you stopped in your tracks. You spotted your prince charming. He was with a blonde girl who caressed his cheek with her fingers. He whispered something in her ear, she took his hand and led him outside.

Your heart flopped. That was it, wasn’t it? Game over.

Dorothea came out of the room and bumped into you.

“Did you know I haven’t seen Ingrid in like an hour? I think she left with Ashe and-”. She cut her sentence. “Are you okay?”, asked Dorothea, focusing her attention on you. Petra was behind her.

“Yes, why?”

“You look like you are about to cry,” the girl from Brigid said.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you lied. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be back in a minute.”

“May I go with you?”, Claude, who had followed you, intervened.

“No, I’m fine”, you lied again. You were tired of lying. “Don’t worry.”

You went away and tried to navigate to the bathroom. Maybe you could spill some tears or at least splash some water on your face. You traversed the enormity of Hilda’s home, your mind a bit cloudy with the drink and the disappointment, yet overall you were sobered up. Keeping it together in a crowded place was a real challenge, more when you had to smile to the people you knew as you passed them by, but you managed just fine.

You bumped into some shoulders, did what you could to reach the white door at the what seemed the most remote corner of the hall.  

Once in the bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

What were you going to do? You were ready to go home. Or you could take what Dorothea once said literally and ask Claude to sneak away with you. Yet, you scratched that possibility right away. It wouldn’t be fair for any of you. If you just could have gotten into your head what Mercedes said and sticked to your original plan, you’d be fine, having the time of your life with your friends. Instead, your doomed heart yearned for him in a way you couldn’t undo.

There was a black hole in your stomach. It seemed that your desperation grew the further he was from you.

Why were you surprised? It was inevitable that it happened. Everyone said so, everyone thought so. Were you for real harbouring the empty hope that he would choose you? Or that he even wanted you? He was just being nice. It seemed clearer now.

As you sunk in your despair and confusion, the door of the bathroom opened.

“It’s occupied!”, you exclaimed. Still, the figured entered without any care and closed the door with a loud hit.

“You were taking too long.”

That rough voice… You turned around. It was Miklan. He wasn’t wearing any costume, and had the same expression than before. His eyes were cold, his stare calculated. His presence was eerie, turning on all your alarms.

“Miklan, get out.” You were still, as if treating a wild animal. “I need to use the toilet.”

“You know me?” He said very pleased with himself.

“We were in the same high-school,” you reminded him

“I see.” He smiled, and you got goosebumps. “I’ve observed you all night.”

“Why?”

“My bother hasn’t got his eyes off you. So, I took an interest in you.”

“If you haven’t notice, he’s gone away somewhere with a busty girl,” you passed him, trying to get out of there. “So, it’s quite useless to play now the dutiful older brother or-”

“You could have some fun with me instead.” He grabbed your arm. So that’s what he wanted. “I’m not an asshole like him.”

“You are acting like one right now.” You tried to force your arm free, but it was useless. “Let me go.”

“Why Sylvain and not me?”, he grunted. His breathing was becoming heavier as his irritation grew. “If it was him and not me, you’d gladly fuck me here.”

Suddenly, you remembered your last nightmare. It was about Miklan. He had turned into some kind of black monster before your eyes. It had horrified you, and everyone who was around you. Sylvain was next to you during that dream, trembling, as his brother’s features were consumed by darkness. The dream had felt so real. You woke up in panic, cold sweat, breathing with difficulty.

“Go away, Miklan”, you said with anger. He leant in.

“Or what?”

Then, out of instinct, you punched him in the face as hard as you could. As he covered his scarred nose, which was then bleeding, you run away from the bathroom.

“Bitch!”, he yelled.

You run a few meters before crashing into a solid body. He was talking to you, but you were focused on escaping. You assumed he was your Almyran shadow for the night.

“Claude, let’s go. Now.”

“Claude?” Oh shit. It was Sylvain’s voice. You turned around to see his confused features. Why did he look so sad for no apparent reason?

“Sylvain?”. You were disconcerted. Wasn’t he gone?

Thereupon, his brother appeared around the corner. He had blood smeared on his face and he was red with anger. You had done a good number on him. You felt safer, because you were surrounded by people.

“Go away, Sylvain. I’ve got some unfinished business with that whore”, he said as he came closer to both of you, slow like a predator. Sylvain pushed you behind him, but you could see the gleam of fear in his eyes. Miklan terrified him.

“Fuck you,” you retorted to Miklan.

“I swear if you did something, I’ll-” Began Sylvain, but thankfully he didn’t have to finish.

“Time to go away, buddy.”

You had never been gladder to see Glenn, the only human who had been able to control Miklan – or so it was said. Behind him, Holst and Balthus, a school drop-out you had only heard about, stood like two bodyguards.

Still, the older Gautier considering fighting them. You could almost hear his thoughts. But, in the last moment, he relaxed.

“Goodbye, losers”, he huffed, then made a beeline for the exit. “Not like I’m going to see any of you fuckers ever again.”

“Are you okay?”, Holst asked you, worried. “You have a red mark on your wrist. And your knuckles have blood.”

“I’m fine. It’s his.” You were so relieved.

“That was a really good punch! A piece of art on his face,” told you Balthus with pride. He seemed like a good guy, but way too violent for your taste. “Take that as a compliment from the King of Grappling!” You nodded politely.

“He’s going to a military school tomorrow. We thought he’d do the least harm if he felt…included. Not the case. If you need anything…” Glenn explained with a serious tone.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Can I speak to you in private?”, Sylvain got into the conversation.

“I’m fucking done with the Gautier brothers today, thank you.” You escaped from the men to look for the backyard to get some fresh air. Yet Sylvain, not giving up, chased you.

“I’m sorry”, he said. He was suffering too, but you chose to ignore that. “Really. Miklan just tries to take everything from me, so he must have thought-”

“That I was your girlfriend? That’s ridiculous.” You didn’t stop, your aim right in front of you. You didn’t see that his lips formed a straight line as soon as the words left your mouth.

“The thing is, he wanted to hurt you in order to hurt me.”

“That’s unfortunate then! Had he known you were out there fucking anyone that crossed your way, he would have left me alone!” You felt the cold breeze when you stepped out of the building. “I don’t understand why he didn’t bother any of your flings!”

“For your information, I wasn’t fucking anyone.” Sylvain closed the doors behind him. You moved to face him, since he didn’t seem to be going away any soon, so you’d better get everything out of your chest. It might do the job and reconcile your emotions.

“I don’t need to know, Sylvain. It’s your life, enjoy it as you want.” There was poison in your voice, but you couldn’t contain the raw emotions that controlled you.

“I want you to know! She was shitfaced and wouldn’t separate from me, so I called her a taxi.” He crossed his arms. “Why are you acting like that anyways? You and Claude seemed to be having too much fun to notice anything I did.”

“What are you talking about?”, you replied with indignation.

“All those touches and laughing. He does the same in class and you let him do whatever he wants. And then you come and text me as if you were interested in me! Do you kiss him when you’re alone?” He was approaching you, seeking the confrontation. You didn’t yield.

“You’ve lost it Sylvain.” You were so close, you were almost touching. Your faces were mere inches from each other. “I’m not the one who uses people as he wants and then leave them! Why are you so jealous? I’m just another girl in the count, you can easily replace me!”

“You have no idea what you are talking about!”, he shouted.

“Then explain it! Is it that fucking difficult?”

“It is! I’m trying to tell you, but you won’t listen! I could never replace you!”

At last, you surrendered to your heart.

You moved towards him and kissed him. It was like a weight lifted from your body. His lips were soft and warm, a hearth during winter. You clung onto his cheap costume, for you wanted to feel his warmth as close as you could.

It took him a few seconds to get back to his senses, but when he did, he turned the kiss into a fierce one, tainted with desperation. He placed one of his hands against the back of your neck, the other around your waist. You were perfectly anchored to him. His touch was exquisite, soft, as if you were a porcelain doll. You opened your mouth, caressed his with your tongue. You decided he was your favourite flavour, and that you’d never get tired of kissing him. He was experienced, determined, and knew what to do to turn you on beyond limit.

He lifted your body and pressed you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He muttered a blasphemy. The next thing you felt, was his tongue back in your mouth. He was desperate to try your taste, to satiate the hunger that had been consuming him. You moved your hips, just in the slightest manner, because nothing he did was enough.

“We should stop,” he said, your taste lingering on his lips.

“Why?”

“We’re drunk. We were arguing.” You giggled. He wished he could hear that sound every day of his life. You disentangled your members from him and placed your feet on the floor, although he didn’t let go your waist.

“Don’t mess with me anymore Sylvain. Be clear. Don’t lie to me,” you pleaded.

“Okay.” He closed his eyes. “I tried to have sex with that girl before.”

“Oh”

“I was jealous of Claude. But I swear I didn’t do anything in the end.” His light brown eyes opened and gazed you sincerely.  “I called a taxi for her, I didn’t lie.”

“What happened?” You asked softly.

“I was thinking about you. As I was crossing the door, I regretted everything and… Well, I put her in the car and went in again.” He sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You got me right here and now,” you reminded him.

“I don’t want to spoil this like I almost did.”

“You won’t spoil anything if you tell me the truth.” You sounded calm, but you were a wreck on the inside. “I can stand it if it’s just a one-night stand. Just… don’t lie to me. Tell me what I am to you.”

“Please, believe in me. Please.” You could hear now how he slurred his syllables. He was right, neither of you were in the best condition to do anything.

“Why do you think I will?”

“Because you’re here with me right now. No one else has ever believed in me. Not even myself.” You caressed his cheek.

“Sylvain…”

“I promise you I will explain everything tomorrow. My intentions, my behaviour… I’m just asking that you believe all that I say and don’t give up on me.” He stared at you, waiting patiently for your answer.

“Okay, Sylvain. I promise.”

[bigowlenergy]

heat + horror

next chapter of How to Raise the Dead!

x

Maddie stands at the door to the basement, hazmat tied down around her waist, staring into the green dark. To her left, the cicada scream en mass. The refrigerator hums at her back. The portal buzzes below. The cold air that swirls up the steps is incredible against the summer heatwave. Maddie. Wants to go down. Hesitates, still.

Danny is down there.

Maddie loves her son, but she loves her daughter, too, and knows better than to bother Jazz when she’s trying to finish a paper and watch the finale to her latest K-drama at the same time (again) and expect anything but getting snapped at and increasing her stress. The experience is just new, with Danny. He was always the relaxed one, but once it hit 80 degrees in the house, the basement became his domain, with the same low tolerance for interruption. With an extra edge of physical discomfort and medical concern. Maddie just doesn’t want to upset him further. It feels like she does that all too often, but Danny just won’t say anything when she does. It’s hard to understand him. She wants to, but he’s pulled so far away from them already...

“Hey, mom.” Jazz stands in the entryway, kicking her flip flops off, two bags of gas station ice slung over her shoulders. “He moved yet?” She asks.

“No, I don’t think so. I was just about to check,” Maddie offers, stepping in to take the second bag from Jazz. She’d stepped out to get some water. Hadn’t gone back. Condensation from the ice leaks down her shoulders, sticks her hair to her neck. Instant relief.

“Alright.” She says. “You coming down? It’s cold.”

And Maddie hesitates at the mouth of the threshold, for just a moment.

“Sounds nice,” She tells the stairs, hidden under the clanging of Jazz’s steps.

At the bottom, all she can see is the ring of lawnchairs and the little blow up kiddie pool that Jazz is dumping her bag of ice in. The clear vinyl tubing of the cheap outdoor furniture catches every refraction of green light from the open portal. An oversized alien dollhouse in Maddie’s lab. The smell of squeaky fresh plastic overwhelms the ectoplasm. The basement has always been climate controlled, and underground besides, so the downright frosty air that the open portal adds to the mix creates the strange atmosphere of a sauna in winter. Inverted.

But the chilliest thing by far is Danny.

Maddie finally gets a good look at him when Jazz collapses back into her own chair, sticking her feet into the pool with a great heaving sigh. Maddie appreciates her running to the store for them. It’s nearly 110 out. She goes to dump her part of the ice in and nearly fumbles to keep from pouring it straight over Danny’s head. He’s buried up to his chest, now. What she thought were odd shadows from the portal are actually his folded knees, the only other part not under ice. His eyes are glazed and dull, staring sightlessly into the green vortex, his head pillowed on the wet plastic rim of the pool. Soaked hair drawn back by one of Jazz’s headbands drips slowly onto the concrete floor. Maddie frowns at that. They specifically asked the kids to make sure nothing in the lab was exposed to water. Should have put a towel down.

She probably can’t blame Danny for lack of foresight. He doesn’t look good.

“Hi, sweetie,” Maddie whispers, tucking the ice in around his legs instead.

His blank expression doesn’t change as he belatedly mouths ‘hi’ back to her.

“Drink your slush,” Scolds Jazz, kicking at the ice idly. Danny’s buried hands slowly tip the half melted slushie toward his face. The straw rests in his mouth for a while, but Maddie’s fairly sure he doesn’t drink any. Her poor baby. Jazz had picked it up for him the first time she went to the store, nearly three hours ago.

Maddie pulls her hands from the ice and wipes them on her shirt. Goes to the monitoring station set up on the side of the portal. The nodes taped to Danny’s neck are probably the only things keeping him from fully submerging himself. His oxygen levels are lower than his usual terrifying baseline of 87%, hovering in the 84-86% range, and his heartrate is just short of clinical death. Most worryingly, his temperate is reading at nearly 80 - a deadly fever, considering his normal 71.3.

Maddie wishes they knew how to really help him. This feels strangely like a - not like a test, not really, but like something is being withheld from them. Like Danny knows what to do, but is still too scared to tell them. Like it’s something he doesn’t want them to know, another little secret on the pile. A tiny declaration of loss of trust.

Or he’s afraid of them knowing.

Not that he could tell them, right now. He’s been basically unresponsive to even the most drastic of stimuli since his internal temp hit 75 an hour ago. Jack had driven out for the lawn furniture around that time, helped wrangle Danny out of the bathtub and into the lab for better monitoring, then disappeared again a few minutes ago. Maddie has an inkling of what he’s up to, so she’ll just hold down the fort and see what happens.

But Danny. Looking at this array, she has the clinging idea that this would be easier for him if he was a ghost. But even now, he’s so hesitant about letting them see him. Has never, in word or deed, trusted them with that. It’s an open secret. What he is.

Who he is.

Jazz knows; Maddie knows she known for some time now. Maddie knows. Does Jack? Maddie knows. She tries to imagine that alien presence in this little family tableau. More green in the air. An extra buzz of static under the portal. White hair, dripping. Maddie knows, but it feels like she knows less than she did three weeks ago.

She’s seen Phantom with her own eyes. Seen him fly and fight and snarl like an animal. Seen him bounce and smile and joke. How does he do it? Maybe Maddie just isn’t ready for the perfect intersection of those things yet. Does - does Danny’s ghost leave his body?

Is Maddie really ready to face her sons’ corpse and his ghost at the same time?

Jazz splashes suddenly, feet shifting, head tipped back dramatically off the edge of her seat, hair in a huge bun, wearing her only pair of shorts. Little embroidered ghosts on the hem. Would he electrify the pool, if he changed?

Maddie sucks in a breath and drags her eyes back to the monitor. Maybe it would be better if he did. Actually. The shock might be what he needs to stabilize his heart. He’s obviously reliant on cold temperatures to facilitate stronger conductivity of his electrical impulse based neurology. Like any other ghost. He’s losing stability of consciousness. Unable to rely on the physical, chemical reaction based impulses of the li - of humans. Maddie’s trying not to think about it. She doesn’t want to think about it. The monitor won’t tell her anything else.

Danny, the ghost, Danny, her son, is suffering from mild destabilization and his human body is too close to brain dead to keep him from -

God, Maddie is glad she doesn’t know.

Jack, bless that man, saves her from her thoughts by clambering down the stairs.

“Icecream!” He calls, voice pitched less exuberantly loud than usual. In deference of the small lab space, empty of the usual noise of running machines, or in deference to Danny. Or her own nerves. Jack hands Jazz a pint of strawberry pistachio and a spoon, sets a bag near the pool and then appears at Maddie’s side. Kisses her cheek. Glances at the monitor.

“How’s he doing?” He asks, handing her her own pint and a fork. Pecan Caramel soymilk.

“Not much worse. But we don’t know beyond his baselines, so it could mean anything. Temperature’s been stable for the last twenty minutes.” Maddie digs out the first pecan she sees and keeps it in her mouth to cool her sensitive teeth. Offers nothing else. Jack can read the screen. If he arrives to the same conclusion, then they’ll talk about it upstairs. Away from the kids. Hopefully, Danny’s too busy barely existing to overhear, if it comes down to it.

Jack nods, bullshooter blue eyes sweeping over the monitor. One huge, extremely hot hand rests on her back, goes to rub soothingly, but Maddie shoos him with her fork.

“You’re cold!” He says delightedly, sticking his hands on the folds of her turned down hazmat. He spares her a smile, then snaps his attention back to the screen. Lingers on Danny’s oxygen levels. “Well,” Jack says, straightening up, “Let’s try to get his internal temperature down a bit, then. Come on, Danno!”

He unties the cloth bag and pulls out a full gallon of icecream. There is no room in the freezer for that.

“Okay, buddy, I got us a real treat, straight from the farmer’s market creamery, you know, the people with the ecto-infected cows we helped out last spring? Got us a discount! Anyway, it’s custom. Chocolate icecream, fudge pieces, cacao nibs, coconut shavings, sprinkles, cookie bits, and those little soft dough chunks -” He cuts off, leans in closer to the pool, watches Danny intensely for a few seconds. “Yep! Extra cookie pieces. Wanna try some?”

Jack sticks two spoons in the open gallon and sets it aside. Gently eases the mostly ignored red slushie out of Danny’s hands and passes it off to Jazz. She doesn’t hesitate to pour some of it over her icecream. Maddie shudders. Bites her pecan. Takes a seat.

Jack pulls a shop towel out of his shorts pocket and soaks it in the pool, then wipes his face with it before slinging it around his neck. Takes a tiny spoonful of the icecream and starts to set it in Danny’s direction.

“Just try a bit, Danno. I’ll let you drink dry ice again,” He cajoles. Maddie whips her head up to glare at him. Jazz shrieks with her mouth closed, prevented from yelling properly by a well timed frozen strawberry. Jack ignores them both. He’d better have a damn good reason and some damn good results.

He gets Danny to eat a little, at least. He’d refused dinner last night, and it’s almost 7 PM, now. After a while, Jack leans in again. All Maddie can hear from a bare few feet away is a quiet, wet little rasp.

Jack beams his most reassuring grin at their son. “Of course it’s got ectoplasm in it; it’s for you, Danny-boy!” He says. And. That might be the first time any of them have put it to words. Admitted it out loud. It should feel like a taboo broken, but somehow, it eases a little relief into the atmosphere. A confession they all share.

Then Jack frowns a bit. Eyebrows drawn down in concern when he says “Is it not enough?”

Danny shakes his head, a light tremble of motion. The wet plastic squeaks under his neck. Lies still. Jack sits back, looks up to Maddie. Jazz is leaned back in her seat, staring down at Danny with a sharp frown of disapproval on her face. A fierce set to her eyes that tells Maddie everything she needs to know.

“We’ll get you more, sweetie,” Maddie tests the waters carefully, kneeling down across from Jack, sets a hand on Danny’s drying hair, keeps Jazz in her sights. Danny closes his eyes and shakes his head again, turning further into her palm and sighing quietly. A low, tired sound of dismissal. Not for Maddie. Jazz looks away, guilt and worry plain on her face. Bites her lip. Lids her icecream and mumbles an excuse of a goodbye, looking a bit mutinous as she leaves.

Maddie has to wonder if she should step back from this. Let Jazz do whatever needs to be done that Danny is hiding from them. But she can’t. These are her children; they shouldn’t need to be providing something for themselves. It’s her duty to care for them.

But. She is also an ectobiologist. Knows damn well what ghosts need. Has done in-field observations on this sort of thing for at least a decade.

It’s not the amount of ectoplasm that matters. It’s the source.

They can’t provide what Danny needs from the lab.

Sure, they’ve never seen Phantom feeding, but he’s so rarely seen at all. Elusive. Non-normative behavior. Maybe -

An incomplete hypothesis has never sat well with her. Her son being miserably sick while she has the power to help him is not sitting any better.

“Danny,” She says firmly, gently taking his cold face in her hands and wincing at the mincing slowness of his pulse under his jaw. “Please, just tell us what’s wrong, honey.”

Something thumps upstairs. What is Jazz doing? Maddie had assumed she left the house. To get. Something. Bring something back? Get a ghost they know to help?

Maddie’s seen ghosts negotiate and willingly feed from each other. The statistically significant ratio of mutual encounter to violent attack was one of the things that tipped the scales for Maddie and Jack on whether ghosts have the capacity for civilized society or not.

If Danny has some sort of pact or agreement with a local ghost, then Maddie is intensely interested in learning every detail of it. As both his mother, and as an ectobiologist. Jazz probably has extensive notes.

Upstairs, something drags across the floor. Maddie jumps at the noise.

“I’ll go check,” Jack offers, glancing guiltily back to Danny before heading up the stairs.

Maddie turns her attention back to Danny and actually feels her heart skip a beat when she finds him staring up at her with dull, glazed eyes. His face too-still and eerie in the green light of the buzzing portal. It dyes him colors he shouldn’t be. She takes in a breath, and calms herself, confused by her own reaction. She’s been exposed to high levels of ectoplasm for nearly two decades. Maddie lost her innate terror-reaction to ectoentities years ago. This is completely unfamiliar to her.

But the way Danny’s too blank face flashes into guilt as he flinches and tries to pull away is not. It’s the same reaction as Jazz earlier.

Guilt. Something withheld. Upstairs, something drags against the wood floors again. Slow, deliberate.

“Danny -” She starts, concerned. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and turns away from her. Mouths something that she reads as sorry. A creak on the stairs. The lights flicker. Maddie jolts back in a crouch immediately, hand falling to where her weapons should be. One hand on Danny. Assuring his location. Her other hand closes on nothing. Of course not. Maddie doesn’t wear her weapons around Danny. Not any more. There’s nothing there. She forces herself into a more relaxed stance with some difficulty.

What could they have upstairs for this? Surely there’s not another ghost living in their house? Maddie would like to think that a second instance would be ridiculous. Maybe a hidden freezer of ectoplasmic samples? She looks down at the human ghost in her lab. Maybe he needs a rare type of ectoplasm, due to his unusual biology? His half human biology.

Half human. Needing ectoplasm and emotion, but also needing food. Maddie’s heart picks up uncomfortably, sits high in her throat. At the other end of the room is the wall safe with the Nightingale journals. The myths and accounts and legends of violent ghosts. Hunted for their danger to humanity. Their hunger. Maddie and Jack have long discounted or disproved those old folk tales.

But then again, they’d also disproved the existence of something like Danny.

“Danny -” She tries again, watching the way he’s turned away from her intently. Mouth pressed in a thin, unhappy line. Every ounce of him tense, entombed in ice.

Jack bounds down the stairs. Maddie jolts to her feet. He’s got the bulky old TV from the sitting room in his arms. Maddie’s heart is pounding, her mind blank.

“We’ve got the cure, Mads!” He cries. Jazz follows, carrying the DVD player and a stack of DVDs.

In the pool, Danny shudders strongly enough to stir the ice. Moans out “No,” loudly enough to be heard.

“Shut up, Danny.” Jazz says firmly. “You need this.”

Jack finishes plugging the makeshift entertainment center together. Jazz sets the DVDs down and sticks one in the player. Maddie’s seen every title on the pile, but doesn’t recognize them from anywhere in the house. All horror films, many classic. Monster movies. Slasher flicks. It’s so disingenuous from where her mind had been that she’s left frozen.

“They’re from Sam,” Jazz explains. “For when somebody runs out of juice.” She spares Danny an annoyed glare and hits play.

Oh. Oh. Maddie looks down at the miserable little ghost in the pool, her shadow cast long over his morose, guilty expression. He’s so pale. The colors from the TV flicker against the vinyl and ice and ectoplasm in surreal flashes. Some loud sound blares from the old speakers with more static than usual and Maddie jolts again. All her senses on high alert, an undercurrent of unnatural fear flooding her cerebellum. An artificially induced state of terror. The buzzing she’s been ignoring with all the ease of overexposure is Danny’s aura, set to 18 hz.

There hasn’t been a ghost attack in nearly a week. All the local specters retreating to the other side of the portal as the heat wave rages on theirs. Danny hasn’t been able to emphathically power himself in a week. Maybe longer.

Ghosts feed on fear.

He’s been overwhelmed with the heatwave, unable to patrol his territory, probably not physically fed in a while, and emotionally weakened. Of course he’s destabilizing.

Maddie lets out a breath of relief. This is something easily remedied, at least. She leans in and kisses Danny’s forehead. In apology. In absolution. Feels guilty for her distrust of him with such an irrational idea. Feels the rekindled instinctual hyperawareness of a ghost near to her vulnerable human throat. Ignores it. Helps Jack finish moving the chairs closer to the pool. Sets her icecream back on her lap. Settles in and lets herself overthink the timing of the next jumpscare. Watches her little ghost relax slowly as he draws strength from their shared, controlled fear. Wonders if he has a vomeronasal organ, with the way his mouth is a little open. If it helps with emphathic filtering, or if it’s psychosomatic. Wonders if he feels better. Fishes his hand out of the ice and holds it tight until he squeezes her back.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a family movie night.

[amphtaminedreams]

The Summer of Disappointment: Lookbook no.11

Hi to anyone reading,

Welcome to an exploration of one of my favourite combinations of activities: putting outfits together and moaning. Straight off the bat-this summer has been a shitty one. The pandemic has made 2020 a shitty year all round. My feelings are best summed up in this tweet by @25lambs (I love her account but this girl changes her @ every other week so it will probably have changed again by the time I post this):

The uncertainty of when life will return to some semblance of “normality” is the hardest part. I also feel like I lost a big chunk of my life to, well, being miserable basically, especially during my teen years and my plans to make up for that in my 20s has been potentially snatched away. That being said, in the grand scheme of things, I am very lucky. I still have a job and I haven’t lost anyone close to me, which are both hugely traumatic things that many people have had to go through as a result of the pandemic. I think being sad about how the pandemic has affected your life and also recognising that there are people who are facing a far greater amount of hardship than you are not mutually exclusive which is something people online tend to forget on a daily basis. I also thought we had longer, if that makes sense, like summer came and went in such a short space of time it almost feels like it hasn’t happened yet, and being the extremely anal individual I am, of course I had a load of outfits planned that I never got round to wearing-instead of sulking about what didn’t happen, I instead decided I’d make a bit of a lookbook out of those outfits as well as a kind of diary of what I did get round to wearing.

So that’s enough rambling from me! I’ll get on with it!

Looks 1-3

Depop has been my absolute favourite thing for the last few months. I gave up fast fashion around May and apart from a slip up or two, I’ve pretty much stuck to that since. That being said, I am clearly very into fashion and styling and so it’s been a hard transition to make (yes, first world problems IK, don’t bait me), especially with me being a compulsive shopper. Wanna know how to lose weight? The jig is up guys, switch from emotional eating to emotional shopping. I’m joking, nobody needs to lose any weight, but I am 100% someone who attempts to cure feeling like shit with some good old instant gratification, and Depop has filled my fast fashion void. My favourite purchases from the last few months include this tan faux suede jacket on the left I bought from Tash_Hall’s shop, and aside from that everything here is old. It makes me feel like I’m a background extra in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and I’m into that. The movie was shit but the visuals were top tier.

-21/07/20-

(top handmade by sophieeee_1123 on Depop)

-30/09/20- 

(dress from maisiemainwaring on Depop, jacket from marinamcaleesex)

-18/09/20-

(top handmade by maddypageknitwear on Depop)

-25/07/20-

(cargo trousers from amber_thomson1 on Depop)

Looks 4-6

So I doubt anyone actually reads my fashion week reviews-I know everyone’s here for the pictures-but if you did, you’d know how much I wanted last season’s Erdem hats to happen off the runway. You know, the big boater ones that tie under the chin? Well, I got one off Ebay, as you can see on the left, I can confirm that in anything other than still life they look absolutely fucking ridiculous; I never ended up wearing mine outside the house because if I wore it for more than two seconds it would end up teetering to one side and slipping off my head, hence me trying to pass off holding it up as a fashion moment, lol. Maybe they are completely impractical, maybe I just have a big head (which is true), who knows. The beaded butterfly top however (from Depop but I can’t find the seller’s account anymore!), also on the left, was way more flattering on than I expected it to be and I am gutted I didn’t get to wear it out. If they’re right about a vaccine not being ready until July 2021 then it looks like next summer’s festival season will be cancelled too, but festival season 2022, this top is coming for ya. Optimism, you know. Other than that, the shorts are reworked Levis from Studsnstuff vintage on Ebay, which I have ALWAYS wanted and now irritatingly pair with absolutely everything and call it a look, and the two piece is stolen from my sister’s wardrobe, lol. Lastly, we have the sunhat, which reminds me of something my parents would’ve put me in when I was little and is totally adorable, from Happydais’ Depop store.

-28/07/20-

-12/07/20-

(top from tash2 on Depop, skirt from anishacassanova)

-27/08/20-

(skirt from mollie_morton on Depop)

-19/08/20-

(jeans from izziesanders on Depop)

-16/09/20-

Looks 6-10

Up there with my favourite Depop purchases of the summer is the striped corduroy trousers in the bottom right from Annasctx’s shop. I was desperate for some vintage trousers in this style but most resellers were, typically, charging extortionate prices for them, so it was a blessing to come across these for under £30. It sounds like a lot but they are a popular item on there at the moment so it’s a good price considering! Also from Depop is the red bodysuit from Alzaska’s store, the monogrammed headband from Jadexlaurenx’s store, and the PU flame print beret from House_of_erotique who do the most AMAZING custom pieces. I am waiting on a couple of things from them at the moment for an American Horror Story inspired lookbook I’m doing for halloween and I am buzzing to try them on! The bag I’m using here is my new go to-it’s a second hand Calvin Klein I found for THIRTY FUCKING POUND in a local charity shop! The woman at the tills told me that lots of people had gone to buy it and then put it back because it was too expensive which is insane! I know you go into a charity shop for cheap things but this bag was such a steal I have no idea how nobody just bit the bullet and bought it. Anyways, I’m not complaining because now it’s mine and I'm in love and I’m gonna try not to spill a monster energy drink on this one<3 

-26/08/20-

-18/08/20-

(suit from emmafisher3 on Depop)

-10/09/20-

-15/08/20-

So, that’s it for now! If you got to this point, thank you for reading! I’m sorry it’s not longer but I’m finding it really hard to motivate myself to write at the moment with everything going on-I’m only finishing this now because it’s 3:30AM and my friend’s cat that I’m looking after is keeping me awake and I’m too much of a softy to shut it out the bedroom. London has just gone into tier 2 lockdown which means I can’t visit my sister or my friends up there, and they’re not allowed to travel down here either. I get it needs to be this way and that we have to make sacrifices, but that’s not to say it isn’t tough on a lot of people’s mental wellbeing. I was really beginning to get my shit together this year, lol! Oh well! Sorry 2021, messy bitch me is getting a sequel. I know, I hate her too.

With regards to what’s coming up on my page, I’m working on the American Horror Story lookbook I mentioned this week and then a (probably non-existent this year) party season lookbook following that. I do intend to do more mood boards and a summary of the S/S 2021 shows soon. I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to do a whole ass review at the moment so I might spice it up and do a tier ranking or rating out of 10 or something fun like that, but there will definitely be something within the next couple of months! I also thought it’d be cool to do a post on the style of some incredible black influencers who are sorely underappreciated on Instagram for Black History Month, but even if I don’t get it out in October, expect that at some point.

Thank you to anyone who read this and thank you in general for bearing with me! I really hope things look up from here but regardless, if we all work together and be considerate of others, we can get through this. I hope everyone is doing okay and as always, if you are struggling, my inbox is always open. Post suggestions are welcome too, as well as feedback as long as it’s not *too* mean. A bitch is sensitive atm. 

Stay safe!

Lauren x

[theskyeandsea]

Zoinks! || Remmy & Skylar

Timing: October 31st

Location: White Crest Elementary

Tagging: @whatsin-yourhead @theskyeandsea

Description: Remmy helps Skylar chaperone a school Halloween event-- unfortunately, they both got a bit more into character than they expected.

Letting out a small sigh, Skylar awkwardly shifted the small cape that was draped around her shoulders. She’d been in a bit of a bind when the assistant principal had asked if she’d be able to interpret for the Halloween dance-- not because she didn’t want to be at work, but because she hadn’t the slightest idea what she was going to dress up as for the occasion. She’d hurried to the Halloween pop up shop and grabbed the first cheap costume she’d found. The plastic fangs weren’t as hard to wear as she’d thought they might be and the cape was a little silly, but it was as much effort as she could manage. Luckily for her, the school was short staffed due to a bout of flu running rampant throughout the staff, so when the assistant principal had begged her to recruit anyone who might be able to handle the kids, she’d extended the invitation to Remmy. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d seen them… After the incident with Ben, with her mother, she’d thrown herself into the haze of work. But, maybe this was how she could get… back to feeling good.

“I never went to any of these dances when I was in high school. And being here,” She gestured to the awkward teenagers in the gym, “I don’t know if I missed out on it.” Skylar said with a weak smile. Glancing at their costume and at the turquoise collar around Moose’s neck, she smiled. “Shaggy and Scooby?”

Remmy didn’t ever really remember dressing up well for Halloween, but it was definitely one of their favorite holidays. Actually, it was definitely their favorite holiday. They loved everything about it, really. The decorations, the stories, the dressing up. The socializing. The smell of fall leaves. What was there not to love? And it was the one day they could get away from their home without having to find an excuse to. They hadn’t really thought much about it at all this year, though, so when Skylar had asked them to chaperone a dance with her, they had run to the new costume store in town real quick and found the best, cheap costume they could find. Lucky for them, the one they did find, was a perfect combo for them and Moose. They’d thought about just slapping the moose antlers headband Blanche had gotten them ages ago on him, but he deserved a better costume than that. So, Scooby-Doo it was. The green shirt and brown pants combo Remmy rocked was nice, too, though the fake beard was really what brought it together.

“I think I only went to prom once,” they replied to Skylar’s comment, “and it wasn’t very fun. Besides, my school didn’t let same-sex couples in, anyway.” They ladled out some punch to a random child before looking over at Skylar. “Yeah! I mean, I figured it’d be cool if our costumes matched. Um…” they glanced at Skylar’s cape, “vampire, yeah? Well...let’s hope there’s none here. Though I don’t think the costume is offensive. I’ve seen a few vamps down on Amity wearing more cliche stuff.”

Humming at Remmy’s words, Skylar shifted so she wasn’t standing directly in the way of the punch bowl. She didn’t really want any of the dark fruit punch to spill on her shirt, mostly because it would be a hassle to clean later. She couldn’t entirely tell what color it was, but she had a feeling it was meant to be the color of blood? “That’s really unfortunate.My school was at least a bit more open about the dating thing.” She said with a nod. Her life back in Seattle had been a lot of things, but homophobia was never something she’d ever dealt with. “Ah… I was a little worried about that, but it was the first costume I saw. I mostly didn’t want to pick a costume that might offend anyone I know.” Which had meant zombie, witch, and werewolf were right out. Not that she wanted to dress up as any of them, although a witch probably would have been really easy. No, it was easier to go dressed up as a vampire. “Are you… um… I’m sure this wasn’t quite the Halloween you had planned, but thank you. I really appreciate you helping me.”

“I didn’t exactly live in a good state for that kinda stuff,” Remmy said with a shrug, before moving the subject along, “I think your costume is great. Definitely no worries there.” They gave another grin, moving over to grab an empty cup and toss it in the recycle bin. “Oh, well, I actually didn’t have any plans--” at least, no Halloween plans, “--so it’s fine, really. I love helping out, anyway. Sometimes I think about being a social worker, but I uh, I don’t think I have enough um...experience? To do that.” They looked back over at Skylar and grinned. Moose sat by their feet watching over the crowd dutifully. Something felt as if it shimmered through the gym and an eerie wave of silence fell before everything returned to normal. Remmy glanced around, then back to Skylar. “That was like...totally weird, right?” 

Smiling at Remmy, Skylar nodded. “Thanks. Well, I’m still glad you came, even if it was just something to do. I don’t really know how I would have managed without your help.” She said. As they talked about wanting to help people, Skylar watched them speak with interest. A social worker. She could see them doing something like that, honestly. Since she’d met them, Remmy had only ever wanted to help her, to help other people. Doing something like that would probably really good for them. “Mm, I don’t know about that. You’ve done plenty to help people, just since being here. I’m sure that counts for something.” Before she could say much more, a shudder ran through the crowd, all of the sounds going mute for a moment before… Huh. “Yeah, that was strange. “ Blinking, Skylar tilted her head, the sound of her own words suddenly far too loud in her head. She ran her hand up to touch her hearing aids before discretely running her thumb along the dial, turning them down. The world around her, it should have sounded dull, muted, too far away. But… it was all clear. “Did you-- I… Did something just happen to you too? With, with your hearing?” She asked.

Glancing around, Remmy blinked, reaching up to check their own aid. They turned it down, then back up. “Uh, like, no, dude,” they said, their voice a bit scratchier than normal, a strange waver to it. “Though I do feel like, so totally strange.” They glanced down at Moose, who was looking up at them with wide eyes, tongue lolling. “What about you, Scoob? You feelin’ weird or freeeeaky?” they asked, mostly teasing. But then a small scream from out in the crowd made them jump a little, and they turned back to Skylar before squinting into the gymnasium, finding that, suddenly, their eyes could see much better than normal. And that, well, their heart was pumping loudly in their chest. “What the…” they glanced down, then back over to Moose, who tilted his head and said, “Ruh-roh!” 

Unhooking her hearing aids from her ears, Skylar stared at the devices for a moment before tucking them into the pocket of her jacket. She glanced over at Remmy, not entirely sure what to make of everything. They felt strange? But if it wasn’t their hearing, what could it be? Frowning, Skylar bit the inside of her cheek and was startled when she realized that the plastic fangs… felt very not like plastic in her mouth. They felt hard and sharp and real. Her own teeth, the ones she usually kept hidden beneath her veneers, they were sharp too, but these felt like razors in her mouth. They felt like... fangs. Just as she was about to panic, to show her teeth to Remmy and ask what was going on, the two of them watched Moose speak. “Oh.” Skylar said, voice faint as she stared from Moose to Remmy, who were looking less and less like themselves and more like their Scooby Doo counterparts. “Oh no.” She swallowed, though the motion was pointless. Pressing a finger to her neck, Skylar searched for a pulse and did her best to remain calm. “Remmy, Remmy…. I don’t, this isn’t good.” She couldn’t find a pulse. 

“Like...he just talked, yeah?” Remmy said, glancing at Skylar when she glanced at them, then they both looked back down as Scooby-Moose. He just tilted his head again and smiled, somehow. Not just a normal dog looking like they’re smiling, like his dog lips actually upturned and formed a smile. “That’s so totally like not natural, right?” But then Skylar was putting a hand to her neck and looking at Remmy with wide eyes and they scratched their chin, only to find...real beard hairs on their chin. “Zoinks!” they stuttered, putting both hands on their face and rubbing the hairs. “What-- what’s, like, happening, man?” A kid in the crowd suddenly started wailing, except the wail turned into a howl. Another started climbing up some bleachers, suddenly declaring themself the hero of White Crest and that they were going to fly. “Uh, Skye? I think we defs have a like, super White Crest mystery on our hands!” they pointed towards the kid in the superhero get-up. “We gotta, like, stop ‘em, right?” 

“He did. He definitely did.” Skylar said, staring at Moose, who smiled. Mmm, oh god. Smiling dogs seemed a lot more friendly in cartoons and comic books. In real life, it felt like she’d crash landed in the middle of the Uncanny Valley. Tearing her eyes away from him, Skylar looked at the way that Remmy was rubbing their face, their words changing. “Oh no. No, no, no.” She muttered to herself. All around her, she could hear that there were children yelling, some howling, some laughing. There was just so much going on. Doing her best to keep herself calm, she looked over to where Remmy pointed. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think… I think the costumes were cursed.” She said, shaking her head. “I… You’re right. We need to help them. They’re just kids, they don’t know what’s going on.” She said and gritted her teeth, ignoring the way her new fangs pricked her gums. “I don’t know if he can actually fly, but I don’t think we should wait to find out.” With that, Skylar hurried up the bleachers and was startled by her own speed, her legs moving faster than they ever had before. Oh no…

“Yeah, dude!” Remmy said in a high-pitched waver that was nothing like their normal voice. “We, like, gotta!” But they didn’t move, even when Skylar took off. Golly, she’d gotten fast. Had she always been that fast? Remmy waved at her. “I’ll, like, stay here and make sure nothing bad happens! Ya know, like, right here next to the punch bowl.” But then Moose was pushing against their back, shoving them forward. “C’mon, Raggy, we rotta help!” Swallowing, Remmy looked down at him. “Oh, that’s like so totally not cool.” Growing supernatural facial hair was one thing, but a talking dog, well...that was certainly another. Remmy slipped away from him and dove under the table. “Just, uh-- go without me!” they said, waving a hand, “I’ll, uh-- like, make sure it’s safe under here!”

Even as she ran across the gym, Skylar could hear that tell-tale quaver in Remmy’s voice, just like the cartoon character. They really were turning into Shaggy. Which meant that she was… a vampire. As she made her way through the crowd, she passed by some of the students who had found themselves in similar situations-- a boy who was tugging at the Spock ears that he’d worn, a girl who’d suddenly found her fairy wings a bit more real than she’d expected. Skylar wished she could help them, but she really didn’t have any better idea of what was going on than they did. All she could do was take the bleacher steps two at a time as she ran to try and head off the Superman caped child who had one leg flung flung over the back railing. “Please, stop! Don’t do that!” She yelled as she ran. Before she could stop him, he jumped off the side of the bleachers. Lunging over the side, she grabbed him by the cape and pulled him back onto the safety of the bleachers. “You can’t do that, you really can’t.” She said, shaking her head. “Remmy, can you…” Looking around, she blinked. “Remmy?” She asked and was surprised to see they hadn’t come running along with her.

Remmy’s body, awkwardly stuffed under the table, didn’t quite make for the scene they supposed a school would want of a chaperone. Moose came around and grabbed their pant leg, tugging them out. “Ret’s go, Raggy!” he said again and Remmy, shaking in their spot, shook their head. “N-n-nope! This so totally is NOT happening!” they said, scrambling back under the table. A kid in a bat costume ran by screaming and Remmy yelped, banging their head on the table, crawling under faster. Moose frowned and grabbed their ankle again, sliding them back out. “We gotta relp!” he said and Remmy glanced over his shoulder to where Skylar was clinging onto a kid with one hand, dangling him over the sides of the bleachers. “I-I-I dunno! Looks like Skye’s got this one, uh-- in the bag!” But against their will, Moose was shoving them along the gym floor over to the bleachers. Her crossed his arms, unhappy. Remmy felt like their skin was vibrating, heart pounding. “Relp!” Moose demanded, pointing at Skylar and the kid. “Okay! Okay! I-I’ll help, sheesh, I-I’ll help!” they said, climbing the bleachers one by one until they reached Skylar. “Wow! Lookit you! All strong and independent and totally not needing of my help, right?”

As the student stared up at her, Skylar rubbed her hand against the material of her jeans, keenly aware of how she’d just hauled the child over the side of the bleachers. She shouldn’t have been able to do that. But, the fact that she wasn’t breathing hard, the fact that her heart wasn’t pounding out of her skin, it all pointed to a single, horrible fact. For better or for worse, she was a vampire right now. “You need to go home. Call your parents, have them pick you up, let them know the school dance is done and-- please.” She said before nudging the boy as gently as she could down the stairs. With that, the boy took the steps two at a time down and raced past Remmy and Moose, who was shoving them up the stairs with a pair of very… hand-like paws. “Remmy,” She said, staring at Moose. “Moose is-- he’s actually Scooby Doo. And you’re…” Her eyes drifted to their neck and her eyes focused in on the soft, pulsing skin. “You’re alive.”

“Alive is a uhh--” Remmy started, climbing back down the bleachers now that Skylar was joining them. “A stretch of word but YIKES yeah,” they said, giving a nervous chuckle, “he sure is.” Moose tilted his head, then shrugged. “This is so totally freaking me out, Skye.” And it was so totally freaking out everyone in the gym as well. “Maybe we should, like, ditch this place and go like...figure out what’s going on, yeah?” Kids were already beginning to filter out of the gym and run to their cars or their parents’ cars, shrieking all the while. Crying. Remmy turned to look back at Skylar and noticed her eyes glue to the side of their neck. “Uhhh, Skye? Are, you, like, okay? You’ve got that uh...weird look on your face.”

Listening to their words, Skylar barely even cared that she could hear them over the screaming and the crying, the shouting of children overlapping. She was focused on the way the blood pulsed through their veins, she could see it. And she… she wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t a hunger that she was used to, but a thirst. She wanted-- “Figure out what’s going on?” She echoed, looking around at the gym for a moment. They were right. There was so much going on, so much chaos. The kids, she should be there, to make sure they were okay. But, the ache in the back of her throat drew her back to look at Remmy. “I’m-- I--” She swallowed thickly before her hands rose of their own accord, reaching out to grasp their shoulders, her fingers tight against their skin.

Remmy was glancing around at the chaos when a strong grip tightened on their shoulders. They looked back at Skylar, concerned at first, when they noticed the look on her face. And how she wasn’t even looking at them. She was still staring at their neck. “Uh, Skye?” they asked, but she didn’t respond. “Skye, l-l-let go!” they pushed against her. “Skye, let go!” They shoved, hard, and felt her hands come undone from their shoulders. Remmy stumbled back and Moosy-Doo put himself between them, growling. “Wh-what’s wrong with you!? Skylar, y-you’re really freaking me out, man!” they declared, backing up quickly. Ready to run if she tried something again, bumping into a kid that was crawling around like the cat costume they were stuck in.

It was so tempting, they were so close, and Skylar could feel the fangs in her mouth press against her lips. Just as she was about to lean in, she felt them resist, felt them squirm in her hands before shoving her backwards. Skylar let out a startled noise of surprise, pushed back against the railing of the bleachers. Hearing the way their voice broke, it jolted her out of her trance and she brought her hands to cover her mouth, horror struck. She’d just-- she’d tried to-- No. No, no, no. “I-- No, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” She said, shaking her head. “I… I can’t be here, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Remmy.” She said before pushing past them, her cold hands pressed against her mouth. She didn’t trust herself to run by all these people, not when she’d just tried to go after Remmy of all people. 

“W-wait, Skye, I--” Remmy started, but it was too late, she was shoving past them and rushing out and Remmy wanted to follow, they did, really-- but they couldn’t. Their feet stuck to the floor. Skylar was gone before Moose decided to start pulling on them again. “We rotta ro, Raggy!” Remmy swallowed, looked down at him, then around the gym. If they left now, they could avoid having to deal with clean up and all the trouble that came before it. “Y-yeah, let’s do that,” they said, grabbing him, and bolting. Skylar wasn’t anywhere outside and they paused, huffing. They hadn’t lost their breath in so long, and somehow, that wasn’t the scariest part of tonight. They tugged on Moose, then and pointed towards the street. “Let’s get home, yeah, Scoob?” they squeaked, “before anything else bad happens.” And maybe they’d magically be themself again in the morning. One could hope, right?

[qobiin]

when i fill them, they’ll shine forever | ch 6

pairing: todobakudeku (bakugou x midoriya x todoroki) 

genre: fluff, angst | abo au, canon-compliant 

warnings: swearing, trans male character, mild canon-typical violence, mentioned child abuse, implied non-con, misgendering, endeavor 

word count: 4118

summary: Katsuki being an omega from birth changes a few things. 

chapter six of when i fill them, they’ll shine forever 

"If you're here to give me some sympathetic speech or some shit, I will kill you, Pinkie," Katsuki spits over his shoulder.

"Eh?" Pinkie startles, scrambling to compose herself as Katsuki turns to look at her. "I have no idea what you mean."

Katsuki narrows his eyes at the way she nervously scratches the back of her head, her smile much too wide to be genuine. Pinkie scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor, her arms dropping to her sides so she can play with the ends of her school jacket. Her scent is as sweet as any other omega’s but there is a sour aftertaste to it that makes Katsuki wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"What the fuck do you want? I have places to be," Katsuki says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

He doesn’t know anything past a few of his classmates’ quirks, much too busy with bettering himself and challenging his mates to give a shit about anyone else. Shitty Hair and Pikachu are showing some potential since they have enough of a backbone to socialize normally with him instead of fearfully or putting him on a pedestal. Most of the others will be unimportant to his story in the long run and Katsuki isn’t usually the type to write people off so soon, but Pinkie herself hasn’t impressed him in the least. 

“I just um-” Pinkie flushes, fingers twining together nervously. “All the girls wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki frowns, suddenly confused. As far as he knows, none of the girls want to be within two feet of him. He has no idea why they would want to thank him for something.

The only thing he can think of that would be spoken about is the Perverted Grape incident that happened earlier that day. Katsuki is waiting for Deku to finish talking to Glasses, Todoroki already having left a few minutes before. He wants to go to Deku’s and gorge himself on Auntie Inko’s cooking while he avoids going home where his mom will scream for blood and his dad will flutter nervously around him for the rest of the weekend. He already had Glasses, Hundred Arms, and Shitty Hair try to comfort him in their own shitty ways about Perverted Grape, he doesn’t need any more of this crap today.

“What the fuck is this about?” Katsuki asks, glaring down at Pinkie. “You have five seconds to speak or I’m walking away. One.”

“Thankyouforgettingridofmineta!” Pinkie shouts, bowing at the waist once before she runs away.

Katsuki scoffs as he watches her leave. “As if I did it for any of you.”

“Did what, Kacchan?” Deku’s voice pipes up behind him.

“Nothing, you shit nerd. Let’s go already,” Katsuki grumbles, barely even reacting to Deku’s sudden appearance.

His alpha’s scent is more familiar to him than his own so if Deku really wants to startle him, he is going to have to work harder than that.

Katsuki takes Deku’s hand and leads the way towards the train station, already imagining all the dishes his Auntie Inko will prepare. Deku follows behind him quietly, not having to say a word for Katsuki to understand his alpha will always support him.

The sports festival is turning out to be fucking boring.

Katsuki delivered his "speech" before the first challenge began, which was really just him pointing out a fact by stating that he and his mates were going to mop the floor with all of them. No need for everyone to get their fucking panties in a twist at the truth.

They had taken one look at the mouth of the tunnel before both his mates grabbed hold of Katsuki’s arms and held on tight as he shot them over the other students piling up beneath them. Many yells and shouts had followed them but Deku only whooped as they came out of the other side and got their first glimpse of the obstacle course prepared for them. 

The zero pointers from the entrance exam rose up to greet them but Todoroki froze one and Katsuki blew up the one beside it at Deku’s request. Deku had grabbed a stray piece of the now broken robot as they flew over it while Todoroki directed ice back at the other students to cut their competition in half. At the pit, Todoroki made more ice to make them a path straight across and Katsuki used more of his blasts to ski them over the pit in no time at all. 

By that point Katsuki and Todoroki had practically ruined the obstacle course as they held Deku between them, all three of them keeping first place easily. Then Deku had pulled himself away from them at the third obstacle, dropping onto his knees to dig at the edges of the landmine before Katsuki got the memo. Together, they dug up the explosives and put them in a pile together.

Todoroki had just enough time to grab Deku's shirt and Katsuki climbed onto his alpha's back as Deku held up the piece of the robot that he had nabbed earlier. His alpha then slammed it into the explosives and all three of them were thrown into the air, sliding past the finish line easily and more importantly, together.

The second challenge hasn't been that big of a challenge either actually. Katsuki grudgingly allows Round Face to join their team after Deku brings up his plan and when the countdown begins, Todoroki makes ice appear in a circle around them while Round Face slaps her hands on the backs of Katsuki’s mates before pressing her fingertips together with a determined look in her eyes. Katsuki settles Deku on his shoulders and waits until Todoroki and Uraraka have grabbed hold of his alpha’s arms to shoot them up in the sky. More yells and shouting follows them but Katsuki ignores it. He knows they are not breaking the rules through anything but a technicality and while last year, he would be enraged about using such a cheap tactic to win, now he only cares to shield his mates from any harm that may befall them. 

Despite the lack of a real fight, their team is doing exceptionally well by staying out of other students’ grasps. The only time anyone gets near enough to almost ripping the headband worth a million points off Deku's head, Todoroki's left side erupts with the barest lick of flames before his ice overcomes some random girl’s vines. Katsuki felt the almost unbearable heat of Todoroki’s fire tease the back of his hand as he prepared himself to power off an explosion and can't help the sharp intake of breath that he takes through his teeth at that moment.

Which is why he is only slightly surprised when Todoroki asks him and Deku for a word in private during the lunch break. Once the break is over, all the stupid extras will then ready themselves for the games UA's staff has prepared for the losers who didn't make it to the final round so technically, they have a longer break than most. Katsuki exchanges a not-so-subtle glance with his alpha before he nods and allows Todoroki to lead the way.

As soon as they are alone, Todoroki tells them his life story. 

All of it. 

The quirk marriage. The forced mate bond. The breeding. The training he began at age four. His mother losing her grip on sanity. The isolation from his siblings and peers alike. The abuse he has withstood ever since then. The resentment and anger Todoroki has carried for countless years. The determination to never use the quirk he inherited from his father.

Every single, excruciating detail has Katsuki's blood boiling and his hackles rising. His body calls for blood, the need to defend and fight and tear limbs apart almost overcomes him.

He doesn’t understand how a parent can look at the life they helped bring into this world and not want to protect them with all their power. Deku has an idea if his claim of not being All Might’s secret love child can be believed, but Katsuki has never faced that misfortune. Not even his coming out impacted the relationship he had with his parents much - not in the way that most would expect anyway. Katsuki does not understand and he never will but he does understand that what both his mates’ fathers have done and are doing now is wrong.

Wrong and awful and horrible. Downright evil in Todoroki’s case. That is more than enough to warrant Katsuki’s bloodlust. He’s sure his parents would understand why he murdered the Number Two Hero anyway. Auntie Inko most definitely would. Hell, probably Yagi-san too, especially considering the way he dotes on Deku. 

Regardless, Katsuki has already made up his mind.

"I am going to fucking kill him," Katsuki spits out between clenched teeth, his hands smoking and curled into tight fists at his sides. "No, no. I am going to destroy him! I'm gonna rip off his balls and feed them to him! I'm gonna hold my hands over his skin and see how well he likes getting burned!"

Katsuki continues, his methods of torture growing more grotesque and painful as he does, all while ignoring the surprised and somewhat wary look on Todoroki's face. Deku is silent beside him, but his scent tells Katsuki enough.

Their alpha is angry. 

Deku is trembling, his eyes flashing gold and hands curled into fists as well. The air around them reeks of ozone and Katsuki feels the ridiculous urge to sneeze. Todoroki’s gaze keeps flickering between the two of them, unsure of who needs his attention more: his alpha who is rapidly losing his grip on his control or his omega who is ranting about every which way he will harm his father.

"Aren't you going to tell me that killing is bad and I don't know what other fucking nonsense you preach and shit?" Katsuki asks when Deku's scent sours enough to bother him. "I'm gonna murder the Number Two Hero, you fucking nerd. Shouldn't you stop me?"

Say something, Katsuki doesn’t plead aloud. Say you agree. Say you’re with us, no matter what.

Deku tenses all at once then sighs, his body going lax as he closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall behind him. "If it was anybody else, literally anybody else, I would say yes."

Katsuki smirks, the edges of it sharp enough to cut. "But?"

"Not in this case," Deku finally says, his scent still angry and now frustrated.

"I am fully capable of killing that bastard, you know," Katsuki continues, eyes flickering between both of his mates. "I could go and murder him right now and I would be glad to be thrown into jail for it. My parents would probably throw a fucking party."

Todoroki looks at him like he's insane, but Katsuki ignores him. He focuses on Deku instead, watching the corners of his mouth twitch with a smile, the sour anger in his scent slowly starting to bleed away.

"I know, Kacchan," Deku agrees, opening his eyes which have now returned to their normal color and leaving Katsuki horrified as they start to water.

Katsuki bites his lip, looking back at Todoroki again who is staring open-mouthed at Deku in shock. "Do you want me to?"

He means it as a question for them both but it is Deku who answers. "Yes, but you shouldn't. People would paint you as a villain and that's not who you are, Kacchan.”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku,” Katsuki bites back but there is a smile on his face and no heat in his words.

“Okay,” Deku replies with a tired smile.

Katsuki pivots to stare at Todoroki, pinning his beta with his gaze alone. “And you, you bastard, come here!”

“Are you going to kill me?” Todoroki asks as he stands up straight, his spine probably in pain due to how quickly he came to attention.

Katsuki's grin turns sharp once more. “If you Order me again, then yes, but just get your ass over here already! ”

“Wait, you Ordered Kacchan?” Deku asks, head swiveling between them both in confusion.

"Twice, the fucking shithead!” Katsuki admits.

Deku's eyes turn flinty before they soften once more. "You must have a death wish, Todoroki-kun. Please, don't ever do that again."

Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at his alpha. "I don't need you to defend me, fucking Deku!"

"I know," Deku murmurs, "but sometimes, you want me to and I don't really appreciate the fact that someone would Order you, even if he's our mate, Kacchan. Todoroki-kun, seriously, don't do that again."

"Shut up, Deku," Katsuki spits out at the same time that Todoroki says, "I won't Order you again, Bakugou-kun."

"Good," Deku huffs as Katsuki moves closer until he can sling an arm over his alpha and tuck him into his side. "Now get over here. We're going to scent you so your father knows he'll have plenty of things to explain the next time I smell him on you."

Katsuki nods sagely. "Deku will destroy him."

"Why would he do that?" Todoroki looks at Deku like he can't imagine the alpha going toe-to-toe with his dipshit of a dad, but Katsuki knows better. And Todoroki should know better too after what happened the week before in the locker room's bathroom.

"Because you're our mate, you fucking bastard," Katsuki growls, reaching out and grabbing hold of Todoroki's arm before he drags him closer. "We'll end anyone who fucking hurts you. You're mine now and I don't like it when people touch my things. I beat the shit out of anybody who dared to lay a hand on my alpha and I'll beat the shit out of anyone who hurts my beta too."

Deku smiles at Todoroki from underneath his arm, his scent calmer and steady like before. "Don't worry about it, Todoroki-kun. Kacchan is just really overprotective. You'll grow used to it."

Todoroki is stiff underneath Katsuki's hand, but, slowly, he starts to relax as well. He leans into Katsuki's side and lays his two-toned head against Katsuki's shoulder. On his other side, Deku does the same, mirroring their mate. They stand there for a moment, huddled up in each other's warmth as they allow their scents to slide across one another, mingling and intermixing. Katsuki is certain that no one is going to speak for some time yet, so he's slightly surprised when Deku does.

“Your quirk is your own, Todoroki-kun.”

“Hm?” Todoroki hums in response, his head shifting against Katsuki’s shoulder.

Deku leans forward until even Katsuki is having difficulties keeping his eyes on them. “Your fire is your own. Everyone else here is using a hundred percent of what they’ve got to make it. It would be wrong of you to do this with only half.”

Todoroki stills in Katsuki’s embrace, expression shifting until his face is blank once more. Katsuki can physically see all the walls Todoroki is putting up again and he cannot have that.

“We can talk about that later, you little shits,” Katsuki cuts in. “Deku, seriously not the fucking time.”

His beta’s scent pulses for one short breath before it calms, Deku oblivious to it all as he starts to say, “Todoroki-kun should work with a hundred percent of what he has too, Kacchan! Otherwise-”

"Shouto."

"Huh?" Deku asks, like a fucking idiot as if Todoroki's intentions aren't clear enough.

Todoroki only blinks at him though, his scent still remaining calm and focused. "You can both call me Shouto."

Deku brightens considerably, his smile like the sun breaking through a heavy layer of overcast while he pushes the quirk issue off to the side for now. "Ah, well you can call me Izuku and Kacchan Katsuki!"

"No, he can't," Katsuki scowls.

"Yes, he can," Deku replies instantly, his smile never faltering. "Go sulk another time, this is loving and supporting our mate hours right now!"

Katsuki can't help the startled laughter that escapes him, but he lets it run its course when Deku only brightens even further at the sound and Todoroki relaxes against him again. "Shut the fuck up, Deku. That meme is as old as balls."

Deku's grin only grows bigger, the edges curving dangerously but he says nothing and wraps his arms around Katsuki's waist. Todoroki too settles further into their warmth, his scent now laced with a dash of content.

From the corner of his eye, Katsuki can see the hint of a smile on his beta's face. The sight alone does weird things to his heart that he promptly ignores in favor of enjoying the company of his mates.

Deku and he run into Endeavor before starting their second fight in the third challenge and Katsuki wonders how the Flaming Piece of Shit got out of there alive.

Considering that All Might was also present, Katsuki is doubly confused about how Endeavor is still breathing.

“Come on,” Katsuki spits as he drags Deku out the door. “Fuck everything else and focus on this stupid match. If you let your quirk break you again, dipshit, I’m taking our beta in the divorce.”

Katsuki isn’t happy at all about the team matches but considering that there are many mated students in the sixteen contestants left for the third challenge, he supposed that it made some lick of sense. Not that he’s going to admit that out loud anyway.

Deku laughs, following behind Katsuki willingly, but his smile dies as they round the corner and run into the last person either of them wanted to see.

They have seen the Number Two Hero plenty of times on television and social media. Katsuki thought he was pretty average looking when he was younger but at that moment he is ugly beyond belief. His facial hair is made up completely of fire and spare bits of it run through his hair. He is tall and in his hero suit but there is nothing about him that shows he is a hero in Katsuki’s eyes.

Instead of the mild admiration Katsuki used to feel for this man, all he can focus on is the hate and rage that’s building up quickly within him.

“So you’re the alpha who’s staked a claim on my son,” Endeavor says like he never expected anybody to try and interfere with the plans he had forced upon his child’s shoulders.

Katsuki bares his teeth at him, forcing himself to stay silent. Endeavor’s eyes linger on Deku’s arm where he is grabbing hold of his alpha. His gaze flickers to Katsuki briefly, looking him up and down as if he is a piece of meat being put on display at the market before he focuses back on Deku. Katsuki can’t help the cold disgust that rolls down his spine when the Flaming Piece of Shit’s eyes are no longer on him. Deku shifts beside him in response, subtly putting himself in front of Katsuki to shield him from view.

“And you’re Shouto’s father,” Deku points out, the anger in his voice plain for anyone to hear.

Endeavor’s brows raise up for a moment before his face settles back into its usual scowl. “Your omega. She’ll do fine but if you don’t prove you are the best alpha around, neither of you get to have him.”

Deku growls and the overbearing scent of ozone fills up the hallway. Katsuki holds onto his alpha tighter while allowing his lips to curl back and make his snarl look more aggressive.

“You don’t decide that for him,” Deku snaps. “And don’t refer to Kacchan as a girl. He will rip out your tongue for such disrespect.”

Endeavor’s gaze flicks back towards Katsuki at this and Katsuki snaps his teeth at him, wanting nothing more than to do just that.

Shouto had told them about all the awful crap his father had done but this - what he just said - takes the fucking cake. Katsuki wants to let go of his alpha and watch him tear into this arrogant beta until there is nothing recognizable left. He doesn’t though because he isn’t stupid and the only person allowed to go to jail is him, but the idea itself is still very tempting.

Fortunately, Yagi-san’s smell rises up behind them announcing his presence. Katsuki doesn’t look back to see his arrival, not trusting Endeavor enough to take his eyes off him but he does smell it when Yagi-san realizes what is going on. It would have been difficult not to, considering Deku is sending out angry and agitated alpha pheromones for everyone in the entire building to smell. Even the lowliest beta with the worst sense of smell would be able to tell that Katsuki’s alpha is in distress.

Within two seconds, Katsuki is facing the broad back of the Number One Hero. All Might is in the shifted form he uses for public appearances and has his arms extended by his sides in a way that appears natural but effectively blocks them both. The fact he did this in a way that did not draw any attention to them at all is only another reason why Katsuki immediately begins to calm down when All Might appeared.

“Endeavor, what are you doing to my students?” All Might rumbles, acting as if he had not stumbled over the end of his question.

Katsuki can no longer see the expression on Endeavor’s face but he can hazard a guess about it well enough. “Wishing them luck.”

All Might’s stance doesn’t relax in the least. “Then you may go now. These two are due for their match soon.”

Endeavor merely huffs and walks away then. All Might doesn’t move from his stance until the other man is no longer nearby. He turns and smiles at them, dropping a hand on both their shoulders when the coast is clear. Katsuki allows it, his anger still pulsing dangerously within him even if he knew they are safe with All Might now present but it is dying down nevertheless.

“What happened?” All Might asks, his blue eyes glinting dangerously under the hallway halogens.

Katsuki tells him. He keeps quiet about what their mate had told them earlier that day because it isn’t any of his business to share until his beta is ready to get help, but he holds nothing back about the conversation they just had with the Flaming Piece of Shit. All Might’s eyes turn almost black with the force of his anger, more ozone joining the air around them.

(And Deku had seriously thought Katsuki wasn’t going to assume that Yagi-san was his dad?)

“He won’t bother you again. You have my word,” All Might vows. “Now run along. Your match is starting within the next three minutes.”

They both nod and are rewarded with pats to their heads. Yagi-san then steps to the side so he is no longer blocking the path and Katsuki drags his alpha away before Deku can add more fire to the fuel.

Katsuki and Shouto share first place, Deku taking second and Emo Birdbrain taking third.

He would consider it a loss any other time, but considering all the crap Shouto has been put through and shared with them today, Katsuki just rolls with it.

(And no, he does not miss the fact that All Might hugs his alpha just a little too long to be normal after he drapes their medals over their heads during the awards ceremony. Going by Shouto’s thoughtful hum beside him, their beta doesn’t miss it either. That conversation should be fun.)

Later, he still takes pleasure in burning and blowing up all of his and Deku's Endeavor merchandise.

He takes greater pleasure in watching Shouto try and keep a straight face as Katsuki blatantly flirts with him when they get ice cream the next day. Deku's flirting is a lot more subtle but they both relish at the sight of Shouto's flushing, blank face over a banana split.

Of course, not all good things last. Katsuki had learned this fact early on in life.

He knows it isn't true when people say that the only way is up. Life isn't that easy and it has never been especially kind to Katsuki of all people. He doesn't mind that fact. He understands that is just how things work and that it is the way of life no matter how much he may wish it not to be. It's just how things are and he gets that.

He just didn't expect the rug to be pulled out from under his feet so soon is all.

a/n: sorry for the wait! i hope that you all liked this though (: thanks for reading!

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Eighteen

FFN II AO3

Summary: The Keens have dinner with Scottie, Red takes a trip down to Texas, and Ressler runs into trouble.

Chapter Eighteen

Liz had just wrapped Agnes in a fluffy towel after her bath when she heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen. She kissed her daughter's hair that had - somehow and miraculously - stayed dry through the bath - and told her to put the clothes hanging up on. Grandma Scottie was coming for dinner.

Tom still looked tired, albeit less frustrated than he'd been while they were at Dr Orchard's. She stood watching him move around the kitchen and he almost looked like he knew where things were. She thought it might have just been his quick learning curve until he went for a specific cabinet and then looked very confused by what he found there.

"What are you looking for?"

"One of those big saucepans. I could have sworn-"

"I moved it up because I don't use it very often." She watched him follow through to the cabinet she motioned at. "You remembered where it was."

Tom blinked, surprised, and Liz felt a small smile creep into place as he said: "Guess I did." He grabbed the pan he needed and set it on the burner. He looked so natural there, almost like he had never left. He had, there was no denying the damage done to their lives, but as he started working in the sauce Liz felt a rare tug of peace. She wanted to hold onto that as long as the universe would let her.

"You don't have to cook, you know," she said as she moved to lean against the table, never taking her eyes off of him.

She could see the barest smiles pull at the corner of his lips. "I feel like you're not much of a cook."

"I've gotten a little better."

"Not sure if it's a memory or just a survival instinct, but I'm gonna play it safe on this one."

Liz flashed a grin that felt a little more forced as someone knocked on the door. Well, Scottie was early. "Aggie, you dressed?" she called into the little girl's room as she passed.

"My ears!" Agnes' voice sounded from inside, but Liz was already tugging the door open to reveal her mother-in-law on the other side.

She had never seen Scottie Hargrave look anything less than ready to stride straight into a boardroom in her tailored outfits and heels and tonight was no different. She stood in the doorway with her head held high and her thousand dollar purse on her arm, but under it all the younger woman thought she saw a hint of nerves. Okay. At least the last sliver of suspicion could be put away.

Liz flashed a smile. "Hey, come on in. Tom's in the kitchen."

"How is he—?"

The question was cut off as Agnes' door was thrown all the way open and she piled out of her room in the clothes that Liz had laid out for her, though with an addition of her own by way of the cat ears headband. She wrapped herself around Scottie's long legs and grinned up at her. "Hi."

"It's like you didn't see me today," Scottie teased with a smile and knelt down to pull her granddaughter into a hug. "I hear you've had a visitor."

Agnes nodded. "Daddy's in here," announced, surprising Liz and taking Scottie by the hand to lead her in. They hadn't said anything, there was no way she should have known, but Liz supposed with all the oddities that surrounded her daughter since birth there was no reason that she shouldn't have believed it either. Just another strange happening in the Keen household.

Liz followed at their heels to find Agnes already chattering away, pulling up a chair to stand on so that she could see what Tom was doing. He stirred at the sauce that was simmering, teasing the little girl playfully while Scottie stood frozen next to the kitchen table. Her dark gaze was fixed on him, following every tiny move, until he finally turned around as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. "You must be Scottie."

"Agnes, why don't you go play until dinner's ready," Liz prompted softly.

She looked ready to argue, but finally hopped off her perch with a loud and dramatic huff that lasted almost to her room. Scottie's lips twitched up at the show the four-year-old has put on and her attention snapped back toTom. "She's always reminded me so much of you," she said softly.

"I don't know how much Liz has told you…."

"I know that someone has manipulated your memories and that you're missing a considerable amount of time."

Tom's dark blue gaze flickered to Liz and she tried for a reassuring smile. "Yeah. I, uh…. I don't remember you. Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Scottie answered immediately, but Liz didn't miss that subtle anger just under the words. Well, when they did find who was responsible for Tom's missing memories, Scottie looked ready to go to war with them. It couldn't hurt to have the CEO of Halcyon Aegis in their corner.

Scottie plastered a struggling smile on her face as she shifted the subject. "So, what's for dinner?"

-------

Howard Hargrave had been a civilian engineer when Red had first met him. Halcyon was in its infancy and its young, still-optimistic CEO had happened by and offered to play translator for a Polish woman with intel that Reddington's team had needed. Their interaction had been so brief that it wasn't until years later that the two men pieced it together and had gotten a good laugh over it. Yet another amusing story in a collection of them that they cultivated over the years.

Many things had changed since those days, and it had been years since Reddington had even seen his old friend. Christopher's disappearance from the beach house coupled with a variety of other factors - both connected and otherwise - has left Howard unpredictable and not entirely stable. It had only gotten worse with time. Red had finally put distance between them when it became clear that Howard didn't have any intentions of adjusting the dangerous trajectory that he had been hurdling in. Tom's return had been too late and Howard suspected too much to put him right again. Red feared that losing his son a second time - even at a distance - might have done him in.

That's why he was surprised to find out that Howard wasn't rotting away in some deep, dark hole like the government often threatened to throw him into, or even a mental institution for that matter. He found him in a little military town in Texas working for the government. He was tethered by an ankle monitor and given a very small stipend for his efforts if the shabby, bachelor-styled apartment was anything to go by. Perhaps they really had thrown him in a hole, just of a different sort.

Reddington had time to explore the small space before Howard arrived. There was nothing there that would have convinced him that his old friend lived within the walls. Howard had always been a nostalgic man in his own way, but none of that resonated here. Red saw no sign of hidden research or projects he was tackling on his own. Just the mindless day in and day out with a little food and an uncomfortable bed between it.

By the time the door opened Reddington had settled into the lone chair at a two-person breakfast table that could be folded up and shoved in a corner if it needed to be. Howard shuffled in, shouting over his shoulder at someone, before fumbling with the locks behind him. He turned and flipped the fluorescent lights on, freezing as he did. "Red?"

Reddington plastered one of his more charming smiles into place. "Howard. You are a difficult man to find. I thought you'd be in prison."

The other man snorted, tossing the keys down on the cheap counter next to the door. "Why lock me away when I'm still of some use?"

He moved further into the living space and Reddington gave him a once over. For the first time since he'd met him, Howard looked his age. His hair had receded years ago and what was left had turned grey, but the lines in his face looked deeper now and there was a weight against his shoulders. Worse yet, there was none of that old spark in his eye. As far down as his enemies had driven him over the years, that clever spark had remained. Reddington had seen it a little over three years before when he had stood before the cameras and declared war on his wife for the whole nation to see.

"You look like hell," Reddington said, his tone more pointed than light. Nothing about this boded well.

Howard shrugged and moved to the fridge. He stuck his head in and returned with a couple of beers in hand. Reddington did his best not to turn his nose up. Ah well. When in Rome. Or Texas, as it were.

"Long days, meaningless nights. They weigh on you like life," Howard answered heavily and leaned against the table, his sole chair occupied.

"What if I told you I could change all that?"

"I'd ask you what you get out of it," Howard answered sharply.

"Katarina has resurfaced."

"So now you're playing fetch for her?"

Reddington's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know what it means. This isn't a game."

"Sure it is. One I bowed out of agesago." He took a long swig of his beer. "Save your effort, Red. And whatever money you intended to bribe my guards with. I'm done. I'm out. She's won."

"Your war was never with Scottie," Reddington answered softly and Howard quirked a grey eyebrow.

"Wasn't it? It was her secrets that stole our boy away and the same that ended up getting him killed. You and I both know this Garvey was more than what he seemed." Howard had always been fascinated with conspiracy theories, and while he often found a trail that turned out to be more than it appeared, Garvey was gone. Dead. Reddington had made sure of it. Digging into the man himself would yield very little.

"None of it would have happened if you hadn't reached out," Reddington pointed out.

"None of it would have happened if you'd been half the friend you claimed to be thirty years ago and gotten my boy back!" Howard countered, the old argument rearing its head. "But no. You were too busy learning from my mistakes. Then you turn around, years later, and tell him that Scottie was his mother while telling him to stay clear of me! Of course I went to him. She'd have gotten her claws in and…" He stopped, the fit of rage he had been boiling to fizzling out abruptly and he turned a dark look on Red. "My boy is dead, my wife a traitor willing to kill me. That's what your war brought to my doorstep, Red. I'm not going to help you."

Red sat very still for a long moment. He'd underestimated the pain and suffering Howard had endured these last two and a half years. At the very least he had hoped to push the right buttons to encourage a lust for revenge, but he was too hurt. Too broken. He had heard the charges levied against him at his trial. Accounts of reckless endangerment, theft, perjury, espionage, and the list went on. Tom had testified against him after everything that had happened. He'd stood in front of an open jury as Christopher Hargrave and no one had warned him the dangers of it. Clearly Howard thought it was what had gotten him killed, and that was a hell of a weight to bear. Red didn't need to know the specifics of what he'd done to know that, at least in the recesses of his own mind, Howard had thought he was protecting his child.

Red leaned in. "We're past the point of no return on this."

"I don't care."

"You're willing to rot here?"

"Here. There. What's the difference?"

Red toyed with his options. He could tell him. It was a risk in his state. He knew Katarina we'll enough to know Scottie would, eventually, be brought into the middle of this as well. Howard would be difficult to convince, but perhaps if he could manage to connect him with his son before Scottie… that might work. It was time for a calculated risk or he'd be walking out of this place empty handed. "He's alive."

Howard didn't perk at that. "Who?"

"Christopher."

Now he looked up. "Don't lie to me, Red."

"I'm not, he—"

There was a change, a flash of rage, and Howard hurled the beer bottle so that it shattered against the floor. "My son is dead. You don't get to use him as a bargaining chip, Red. You don't get to manipulate me into sticking my nose into the same chaos that got him killed in the first place. The three of you made your bed. Lie in it or don't. I don't care, but get the hell out."

Reddington sat there for a long moment before he finally stood, fitting his hat back on his head. "For what it's worth, Howard, he can't remember anything. He's lost time."

"Convenient way of using a double to try to fool me."

And there were the conspiracies again, even if it weren't as far fetched as some might have thought. Red has used a double, but just not here and now. "Point being that he doesn't remember your last interaction." He sighed. "Not everyone is your enemy unless you choose to make them. I may be one of the few friends left in this world. Reach out when you finish wallowing in your self pity."

He turned and left before Howard could respond. If he would given way or buckled down, Reddington wasn't sure, but if there were anything left of the Howard Hargrave he had once known he wouldn't be able to shake the hope of his son being alive. It would gnaw at him until he had no choice but to act.

-----------

Ressler hadn't realized just how easily spoiled to flying private he'd managed to become over the years, but the delayed flight out of Germany and delayed layover at LaGuardia International had left him missing Reddington's jet, even if not the interference he certainly would have thrown into their case. No, after what he'd done to their Blacklister when they had refused to give him five minutes with the man. He might have given them the name that took them to Bonn, but Ressler's be damned if he forked over the jumpdrive Weiss had risked so much to get to him.

Still, it was late and Ressler was exhausted. He could miss the convenience of a private jet without missing the man that provided it.

He shifted his bag on his shoulder and fumbled for his keys just outside of his front door, but as he slid it into the lock and turned, he could feel that the mechanisms had already been released. That wasn't good.

The bag dropped to the hall floor as Ressler reached for his sidearm, readying himself as he pushed the front door open. The living room looked clear as far as his line of sight reached and he inched in, every muscle taught and finger ready on the trigger. He cleared the kitchen and the living room, the bathroom, and that only left one more room in the apartment. He flexed his fingers around the handle on his gun, adjusting his grip and he pulled a deep breath in through his nose as he started into the bedroom. He made it half a step through the door frame before the door swung out hard.

The blow hadn't been what he expected, but even as he stumbled off balance he kept his grip on his gun. Ressler spun, leveling it, but his attacker was already there. He was a tall and thick man, well out of Ressler's own weight class, and the shot went into the ceiling when he slammed his arm upward. He spun faster than he should have been able to and Ressler heard his own yelp of pain rattling in his ears before realizing that the intruder had followed through and wrenched his arm around so hard that it must have popped it out of socket.

Ressler didn't have time to test the theory as the man descended on him again, but he managed to avoid the blow if only just barely. He bobbed, finding his right arm utterly useless, and was sent sprawling to the floor hard. He lay there for a moment, stunned, and blinked hard against the pain as his attacker loomed over him. "The drive," he said simply and Ressler grimaced. He could see his gun on the floor, but he'd have to be faster.

"Don't know what you're talking about, pal."

The other man snorted and pulled his own weapon from its holster. "I don't believe you."

Ressler roller for his gun and the shot went off.

---------

Dinner went surprisingly well. They tiptoed around certain subjects until Agnes went to her room to play, but as soon as she was out of earshot it was clear that Scottie Hargrave expected more. She had been pleasant and chatty about a lot of nothing right up until that point. A cover. A well designed mask. Tom knew it well, even if no memories seemed to be shaking loose about her just yet.

He worked his way through what he knew, he and Liz reading each other's small tells to make sure they didn't let information slip that shouldn't. He was careful never to mention Katarina Rostova by name, but something like recognition flashed through Scottie's eyes as Liz shared a few choice details about the woman that had called herself both Maddie Tolliver and Rostova.

Liz excused herself as her cell phone rang, stepping into the bedroom to take the call. Almost immediately Scottie turned to him. "The woman that hired you."

"Tremblay?" he asked carefully.

"Are you certain that's her name?"

"Are you certain it's not?" he countered.

"I understand your… caution," she said slowly, almost as if she were tasting each word. "This woman. I need to know what you know."

There was something strangely familiar about the way she was looking at him. Her gaze was calculating and careful, like she thought she could unearth any secrets by sheer determination. He held it though, and felt like he might be on the verge of remembering something important about her.

"Scottie, we're going to have to cut this short," Liz said as she blew back into the room.

"Elizabeth-"

"Ressler was just attacked in his apartment. I have to go."

Tom was on his feet in an instant. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I need to get a babysitter and -"

"Go," Scottie said firmly. "I'll watch Agnes."

Tom watched Liz hesitate for a long moment before she nodded, accepting the offer. Within five minutes she'd kissed Agnes goodbye, grabbed her gun, and pulled him out the door behind her.

--------

TBC

Notes: Well, Becca called it in the reviews: my whump quota strikes again. Aimed at Ress this time :P

I don't know if I've mentioned this here (I chatter about it quite a bit on Tumblr), but I'm been working towards a move to California for a while now. This weekend I'm flying out and signing a least if all works as expected. Wish me luck! :D

Next Time: A new clue emerges in the case, Scottie sets a clandestine meeting, and Liz forces Red's hand.