#it's a poster talking about someone not wanting to get into MH because it's an hours long commitment

[monsterhunterthings]

Monster Hunter has eaten up so many hours of my life. It can be a considerable time sink BUT once you get into the groove, it's amazing. I recommend it to everyone I can. Every time I do suggest the game, I have to say something like "Monster Hunter isn't a fast-paced hack and slash, so if that's what you're looking for, maybe not?"

I have no idea how many hours I've put in as JUST a casual player, but I know it's got to be close to 3,000 plus. Might just play some right now.

i saw someone say they didn't want to getting into monster hunter with a friend who keeps asking them to play because it's a hours long commitment.

i don't know many monster hunter players so i don't know if that's accurate to most other players' experiences.

[silent-stories]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟕

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie finally explains why he's been avoiding you.

Part 6

Eddie's room was messy to say the least.

The table near the bed and a nearby desk were covered with plenty of random objects and some clothes were scattered around the room.

The walls were covered with posters of metal bands, one in particular, bigger than the others, had the name "Corroded Coffin" written on it.

Some books were left around, a guitar with "this machine slays dragons" written on it was in the corner of the room and not far from it was a second one, dark red and black.

Eddie closed the door behind him as he entered his room after you.

"Don't tell me my room sucks, I know." He chuckled sitting on the edge of his bed. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

You looked around, walking slowly around the room like an animal discovering a place it had never seen before.

"That's so cool." You muttered as your eyes ran over the posters on the walls.

"I'm sorry?" Eddie raised his eyebrows, thinking he must have misunderstood.

"Your room. It's cool." You stopped in front of Eddie's guitar, turning your back on him and so not seeing the smile that was born on his lips.

You reached out to run your fingers over its strings, causing a soft sound.

Eddie felt the sudden dullness of telling you to stop: no one could touch his guitar but him, but then he stopped and almost had to repress the thought that he would have liked to teach you how to play it.

"So?" You asked before turning back to him and then sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.

"What?"

"Why have you been avoiding me all day?"

He shook his head. "It's stupid."

He wasn't too sure about that though.

"It's not stupid if it made you ignore me all day."

"I talked to Aaron." He confessed.

You sighed. "Well, I'm sorry you had to do that."

"He said some things." Eddie wasn't looking at you anymore, suddenly the floor was much more interesting and his voice less confident.

"Things?"

Eddie sighed. "Promise me you'll tell me the truth no matter what."

"Eddie you're scaring me."

"He told me that you decided to become my friend because you wanted to buy drugs and you were hoping to get them for free." He choked out as if taking a weight off his chest.

"Well, that's not true." You responded promptly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Okay." He brethed in response.

Then silence fell in the room.

"Eddie."

"Mh." He wasn't looking at you yet.

"Ed, don't tell me you believed him." Your voice was softer now.

His silence almost scared you. "Eddie...I would never do that."

"I know." He murmured, his fingers playing with his skull ring, his eyes still stubbornly not meeting your gaze.

"So why are you doing this now? Why have you been ignoring me all day and now you can't even look at me?"

"Because there's always a voice in my head telling me you'd be better off without me." He finally confessed while you, as if by instinct, reached out for his hand, grabbing it as it stopped shaking and intertwining your fingers with his. "It says there's no way you really want to be- friends with someone like me or be seen hanging out with Eddie 'the freak'."

The fact that after all that time you've known Eddie, he still doubted your relationship, it made you realize how much all those years of insults had really affected him, even though he always tried to hide it, pretending he didn't care.

"Eddie, I like you. I like you because you are you. Because you're kind, nice, caring and you always make me laugh when I'm feeling down." He finally looked up and his gentle brown eyes met yours. You wondered if the shimmer was caused by the yellowish light in his room or if it was beacuse of some unshed tears.

"You're such a good person, I'm sorry so many people can't see that." You smiled softly, hoping he believed you.

"I'm always scared that one day you'll start seeing me the way everyone else does." He mumbled, his voice like the one of a frightened child during a thunderstorm. "I can't loose you too."

If your heart hadn't already broken during that conversation, it did right now. "You won't."

"And I hope that one day they will see you as I do." You gently pulled his hand still in yours towards you, pulling him into a hug as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he buried his face in the crook of yours, closing his eyes. "Because you deserve it."

You felt Eddie's hands on your back, gently pushing you closer.

"Eddie, I care about you. I really do."

You didn't say anything about what you understood to be a tear falling on your skin.

"Oh, sweetie." You breathed out as you ran a hand through his hair, your fingers through his curly dark locks. "Don't let some asshole let you think I don't care about you. Don't think you're not important to me, that you're one of the best people I've ever met in my entire life and that I'm glad you're part of mine."

You pulled Eddie closer to you and he grabbed the fabric of your shirt on your back, squeezing it lightly in his hands as if he didn't hold you so tight you would have disappeared and as he wanted that moment to never end.

After a few moments, Eddie slowly raised his head. He would never admit he had shed some tears but you brought your hands to his cheeks to gently brush away the last of them.

Your hands lingered on his cheeks, cupping his face still inches away from yours.

He felt like you were a blessing he was never meant to found and by the gods he was so happy, that in spite of that he still had found you.

"Thank you." he whispered.

"For what?" You asked.

For being there with him, for waiting for him outside school in the morning, for not feeling ashamed to be with him in public, for making him feel important, for smiling every time you saw him in the hallway, for spending your time with him, for being there when he needed you, for showing him your affection when hardly anyone ever had in his life, for not judging, for getting along with Wayne...

"For everything." He murmured, your hands still on the sides of his face, your noses almost touching and your breaths felt on each other's skin.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened and Wayne peeped out.

"Just wanted to ask if you're coming to eat or not. The food will get cold." Said the man as your hands fell from Eddie's face to your lap.

You cleared your throat.

"Sure. We'll be right there." You nodded.

Eddie did the same, getting off the bed to look at you and offer you a soft sincere smile.

"After you." He said gesturing to the door, the feel of your fingers caressing his cheeks still hard to shake.

"It was all really good." Wayne commented, sitting at the table across from you and Eddie, his voice easily audible despite the background TV playing some random program no one was paying attention to, mostly showing commercials.

"Thank you." You answered putting down your fork. "Ever since I nearly set Robin's house on fire trying to cook with her, I've decided maybe I needed to learn."

"I'm glad you did." Eddie said as he stuffed the last baked potato into his mouth. "Learn to cook, don't burn Buckley's house down." He specified causing a laugh on your part.

You read the time on the clock on the wall, noting that the sun had gone down and the sky had become completely dark.

"I think I should go home now, my mum always complains when I walk alone after dark." You said getting up from your chair.

"Walk?" Eddie did the same, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I walked to get here." You explained grabbing your jacket off the chair.

"Okay, slow down." Eddie chuckled walking in your direction. "I'll drive you home."

"Oh look, I raised him well." Wayne commented softly from across the room.

Your eyes met Eddie's, who never lost their sincerity and kindness.

"I'll take you home." He repeated. "It's the least after what you've done for us. For me."

You smiled slightly at his words, your gaze passing over his face, the memory of your lips inches from his was hard to forget, like the desire to have nipped the space between you with a kiss when you had the chance.

"Okay." You said finally and Eddie grabbed his leather jacket.

"Thanks for making me stay Mr…Wayne. Thank you, Wayne." You said goodbye to the man, correcting your little mistake.

"Thanks to you. See ya soon, kid."

You and Eddie left the trailer, walking to his van, when you spoke again.

"I.. I forgot something."

"What?" He frowned as he opened the vehicle's door.

"Just one thing, I'll be right back." You hurried back to the trailer, opening the door again.

"Wayne?" You called him, the man raised his head from the dishes he was putting away in the sink.

"You did." You said and he looked at you questioningly.

"Raised him well. You really did." You specified and a corner of the man's lips lifted.

You smiled, you had just felt the need to let him know. Wayne must have been an amazing father when Eddie's biological one wasn't with him.

He just smiled, before you went back to Eddie, waiting for you.

"What did you forget?" He asked as you sat next to him.

"Oh, nothing. I realized I already had it."

Eddie looked at you suspiciously but didn't insist and started the van while a Black Sabbath song played softly.

During the journey you spoke relatively little but the silence between you was anything but awkward. It was calm and intimate, you didn't need to talk at that moment.

When Eddie parked in front of your house a few minutes later and said good night to you, you kissed his cheek before getting out of the car.

You chuckled when, despite the darkness, you saw that his cheeks had acquired a certain blush.

Who would have thought Eddie blushed?

"Goodnight Eddie." You whispered before starting to walk towards your house, your figure illuminated by the weak light of the street lamps as you walked away.

"Good- goodnight." He mumbled, almost stammered, even if you were already gone.

After you walked into the house he stayed there for a few more minutes, an almost stupid and lovesick smile plastered on his face.

After everything that had happened that day, after what you'd said and done, after your soft whispered words, your hug and that kiss, he couldn't help but smile.

And he kept doing it even on all his way home.

Part 8

As I was writing this I was telling to myself "let them kiss!" and still... here we are :)

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon

Love you from afar tags: @capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee @bakugouswh0r3 @amira0303 @greatpizzascissorstaco @ebonybloom @emxxblog @lunaryasha @cherryobx @jasminelafleur @magicalchocolatecheesecake @tracymbcm @harrypotter-imaginees @eli-flower @mrsjellymunson @tttttttttttts-things @miabiar @wayfaring----stranger @princess-eddie @omgshesinsane @littlestarfighter03 @zoeymunson @tanyaherondale @bl4ckt00thgr1n @thebook-hobbit @eris-rose-86 @ly17 @jenuhlyn-blog @ximi1315 @avocadotoastwithegg @lomljigg @urdad-hot @1paire2vans @praline357

[enapills]

hiiiii😁 idk of yours request is open but i wanted to ask for a mmj! reader x akito😞 hope youre okay with thisss, bye kisses and hugs 🫶😊

-⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀MORE , MORE ⠀⠀⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀more more JUMP !

authors babbles . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀i freaking LOVE THIS ! !

MORE! MORE! - prod. honakito

posted as : request

chars : s. akito

type : x g/n ! reader

scenario : akito with an idol (specifically more more jump) reader ( headcanons )

taglist : @finanah ( ask to be added )

affiliated with : @virtualbookstore

notes : OH MH GOD i am SO SORRY for dipping this whole month and not doing this request sooner you probably forgot about it hhh,,,… no joke i was procrastinating this whole month since i am signed up for the math olympics ( i got a 20/28 at the local phase and now im in for the city phase) then i also have national phase if i qualify so requests are gonna take much longer… but still THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTHING THIS AAA!! AND AGAIN IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

notes 2 : so im actually working on a canon character only series. the only thing ill reveal about it is that it is a crossover with one of my current hyperfixations (they go brrr brrr brbrbr) so mist of my attention will be focused on it (requests will take longer in this case) and other shit BUT!!! ill alao try to finish the masterlists befpre my blog gets bigger so it is easier for me to arrange shit YKNOW ,,, and also the last time i posted here i barely got any REACH. like it was embarrassing omfg i dont want that to happen again so this is probably why i was hesitant on posting again but were cool gang ,, and i aslo have to revamp most of my posts kms

date : 26 / 02 / 24 - 10 / 03 / 24

well , he doesnt really care.

wait , what?

dont get him wrong , tho! when he first found out you were also interested in the music field , he was ecstatic in his own way. so , he asked some questions.

to realize youre the fifth member of ‘ MORE MORE JUMP! ‘ tho? that was a shocker! he never really put the puzzle pieces together.

not because he isnt capable of doing so , he just doesnt really.. care, about idol groups. it was never akitos type of music genre.

sure , he saw a few posters here and there , but never observed them as a whole. the only one he recognized on those was airi , because of enas childhood friendship with her.

and when you first came to kamiyama , he never really eavesdropped on any conversations about you. wasnt that normal? for everyone to talk about the new student! why was he the only one that didnt know you were a known idol?

isnt that a good thing , tho?

because akito didnt know of your passion , you saw right through him that this is actually how he feels. figured out that he saw you as an average human being , and not someone you only see on the outside , on a screen.

you were more glad for his oblivion , rather than mad.

but back on topic.

for a little while , he didnt know. but after? he seemed more cautious for you.

he knows the things you have to go through in the idol industry — he isnt stupid.

so for your sake , hes more supportive.

youll never notice it , but he will watch each and every livestream your group will hold after finding out. ofcourse , on a whole different account , while hes alone — he does not need teasing from neither you , mizuki , ena or an. 

and the same goes for your social media posts , he always tries to be the first one to like.

also pay close attention to his playlist — suddenly , a few of ‘ MORE MORE JUMP! ‘ s songs are there! but not the whole discography , hes still getting accommodated with the genre. 

so after a while — he gets comfortable.

hell always show up to the shows you will host. at first , he will seat in the back , so you dont notice him. but with a little bit of time , you will always spot him easily in the front rows , but he has too much pride to admit it. half of it , he will say ena dragged him with her. but what about the times he shows up alone? when theres no big sister , or no extra ticket from kohane?

if you figure it out tho , hed gladly accept any ticket you give him. doesnt matter if general or backstage access — your performances are moments that he holds close to him , outside of RAD WEEKEND.

and even if it seems like he doesnt care — he will always cheer on you from the sidelines.

begging the x reader gods to show this under the tag this time

div. arent mine ; please do not use my work for own uses , includes : reposting and claiming as their own , heavily inspiring off a long term fanfiction , etc , etc .

[jujumin-translates]

Sakuya Sakuma | [SSR] Mankai Crepe | A Crepe Bouquet

Citron: Good afternoon, Madam! You seem in a good blued today~!

Fukatsu: Ooh, I think you’re trying to say, “in a good mood”! You’re still as funny as ever Cito-chan.

Citron: Thank you!

Citron: By the way, Madam. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?

Fukatsu: Ah, right, right, I have an acquaintance who runs a crepe cart. They usually hire students to work, but…

Fukatsu: They’re having staffing issues because all those kids are going to be unavailable because of exams.

Citron: Oh, that sounds like a problem!

Fukatsu: That’s why they’re looking for people to help fill in for the time being.

Fukatsu: Hey, Cito-chan, do you know anyone who could help? You must have lots of friends and acquaintances, right?

Fukatsu: You’ll be paid for it, of course, and there’s a training period, so there’s no need to worry if you don’t have experience.

Citron: If you are the one asking me to do it, I must accept, Madam! I will talk to everyone at the dorms about it first.

Fukatsu: Thank you so much! By the way, the shop name is--.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Ah, Citron-san!

Citron: Oh, Sakuya! I thought you were working until this evening.

Sakuya: It was pretty calm around the shop, so we closed up at lunch. That’s been happening a lot lately.

Sakuya: Where have you been, Citron-san?

Citron: Having tea with one of the madams I know! She was asking for some help.

Sakuya: Oh, really? I hope she can get that help soon…

Citron: I need to talk to everyone else about helping! I want to talk to you and the others when we get back.

Sakuya: Got it!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: Mh~, this pear crepe is supes tasty and good! The line in front of the cart was like, crazy long, but it was totes worth it~!

Banri: I usually just get stuff from the regular cafe, but this sweet potato chai latte is real good and spiced too.

Izumi: Wow, they all sound so good. I’ll have to go sometime.

Sakuya: We’re home.

Citron: We are home!

Izumi: Welcome back.

Sakuya: Waah, those crepes look really good!

Kazunari: They are! I swung by a crepe shop on my way home from uni and got ‘em~.

Kazunari: There was this super cute, inste-able cart and they all looked supes good! There was major hype around that place!

Sakuya: Now I kinda wanna go there too…!

Kazunari: BTDubs, the shop’s name is “Epoch de Crepe”--.

Citron: Aha! That is exactly the shop!

Izumi: Huh?

Banri: What is it?

Citron: I need to talk to you about that crepe shop!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: I getcha~, so that’s why there was a poster on the side of the cart looking for part-time workers.

Izumi: From what I’ve heard, that place is pretty popular, so being short-staffed is a big problem. I’d love to help out myself, but… could you guys do it?

Citron: It was one of the madams’ requests, so of course I will!

Citron: But I heard that they need around three people to help, so I am not enough.

Sakuya: Well then, let me help too!

Sakuya: My part-time jobs haven’t been very busy lately, so I think I should be able to do it.

Citron: Thank you, Sakuya. That will be much help!

Banri: That said, can you guys really help out at a crepe shop?

Citron: You can count on us! I will be able to handle anyone in line!

Sakuya: I do customer service and cashiering at some of my regular part-time jobs, and I’m sure I'll be able to adjust my shifts, so I’ll be fine.

Banri: Nah, it ain’t just about the customer service part…

Citron: Anyway, two is not enough. So I must find someone else!

Kazunari: Ah, wait a sec, RonRon!

Kazunari: I think Setzer said earlier that he’s relatively free right now. So maybe he could help out…!?

Citron: It would be berry helpful if you came, Banri! I would like it if you joined us!

Banri: Well, whatever. You ain’t gotta worry anymore.

Izumi: Well then, I guess we’ve got our three!

Banri: Yep.

Sakuya: I’ll do my best!

Citron: Now that it is decided, let us do our best to bring in even more customers than the usual workers~!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Citron: Hello! We are the people Fukatsu-san sent to help.

Sakuya: We’ll do our best!

Banri: What he said.

Shop Owner: I’ve been waiting on this, so I’m really thankful for the help! Let me start by explaining the schedule.

Shop Owner: I don’t think you’ll be able to make the crepes right away, so you’ll just be in a training period for a while--.

Citron: Eh?

Sakuya: Make?

Banri: Ugh… I told you we wouldn’t be able to do this.

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Sakuya: …Alright, so, there’s a training period, but I wanna get good at baking the crepe batter as soon as possible.

Sakuya: So, that’s why I wanted to ask for your help with making the crepes, Omi-san. And also why I wanted your help with tasting them, Juza-kun…

Omi: I see. Well, how about we make them together then?

Juza: I’ll help as much as ya want if ya want me to.

Izumi: I can also help out!

Sakuya: Thank you so much, guys!

Sakuya: Anyway, I got this utensil for spreading the batter. They call it a rake.

Izumi: Wah, how professional!

Omi: Nice preparation. Well then, let me borrow that from you for a bit, Sakuya.

Sakuya: Yeah, of course!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Omi: Hmm… it’s not quite up to the quality of something you’d sell, but how’s this for now?

Sakuya: It’s amazing! I never knew you could make something like that in such a short amount of time…!

Izumi: The thickness of the pastry is even and it’s at the level of something you’d find in a shop!

Omi: Haha, thanks. Now, finish this one off with some fruit and cream…

Omi: And, done. Here, try a bit of it.

Sakuya: Lemme try!

Juza: ! ‘S’incredible.

Izumi: It’s so fluffy and delicious!

Sakuya: It’s really tasty and it’s got a good balance of pastry and filling…!

Omi: Well then, you ready to try, Sakuya?

Sakuya: Sure! I’ll try my best to get the same outcome as you did!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Whoa, it was too thin and I ripped it! And the other one was a little too thick… uuueh.

Omi: Seems like the rake is a little tricky to handle.

Juza: The thick ones are good ‘cause they’ve got more to ‘em, and the thin ones are good ‘cause they’ve got more fillin’.

Juza: But if you’re gonna sell ‘em, guess they’ve gotta have a consistent thickness.

Sakuya: Yeah…

Izumi: How about we look up some tips online? Maybe we’ll find a method that works well for you, Sakuya-kun.

Sakuya: Ah, no, I’m gonna call it here for today!

Omi: Already?

Juza: We can still help ya, y’know.

Sakuya: Thanks, but you guys have already done enough! I’m gonna go out and look for some crepe shops in town and study from pros.

Sakuya: I’d be glad to get your help again next time I practice!

Izumi: (Sakuya-kun’s enthusiasm is so admirable…!)

Izumi: Got it, good luck with your search. See you later!

Sakuya: See you!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Ah, seems like there’s another food truck crepe shop just like “Epoch de Crepe”…!

Sakuya: (It’s amazing how fast their hands are working. And the batter isn’t sticking to the rake at all.)

Shop Worker: Welcome, sir, would you like to order something? If so, the menu can be read there…

Sakuya: Ah, sorry for staring! Actually, I was just…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Shop Worker: I see. So you want to see the making process?

Sakuya: Yeah, I was really impressed by how you were handling the rake. Sorry…

Shop Worker: No, I appreciate the compliment. I can give you a few tips if you’d like.

Sakuya: Eh, are you sure?

Shop Worker: We’re in a low-traffic time right now. Actually, I also struggled with this at first.

Sakuya: Really…!? Thank you so much, I’ll do my best to learn.

Shop Worker: No problem. Alright, first, for using the rake…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Shop Worker: …And make a point like this.

Sakuya: That was so helpful! I’ll definitely practice this again by myself. Thank you so much!

Shop Worker: It’s nothing. Good luck with making delicious crepes.

Sakuya: Thanks!

Shop Worker A: Thank you for waiting. Here you go.

Kid: Wah! This crepe looks like a really pretty flower!

Mother: Fufu, it does.

Sakuya: …

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Sakuya: …What do you think?

Omi: It’s very nicely baked.

Izumi: The pastry’s thickness is even all over!

Juza: Tastes just like somethin’ you’d get at a shop.

Sakuya: I’m glad…! The tips I got from that shop worker were really worth it!

Omi: I’m glad you found a technique that works for you, Sakuya.

Sakuya: Me too! But I still need to work even harder to make ones that are even more delicious!

Omi: Haha, make sure you don’t overdo it.

Juza: We’re supportin’ ya.

Izumi: And good luck with doing the real thing, too!

Sakuya: Thank you!

Izumi: (Sakuya-kun seems like he’s got some confidence now. I’m glad he got so good at making them.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Shop Owner: You’ve gotten so good that I don’t really have anything to say in terms of things to practice! It’s time for the real thing today, so let’s keep up the good work.

Sakuya: Yeah, let’s!

Customer A: Hello. Are you taking orders?

Sakuya: Yes, go ahead!

Customer A: Umm, then I’ll get a pear-apple mix and…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Customer B: It’s so good~!

Customer C: The thickness of the pastry is perfect!

Sakuya: (I’m really glad the people who are eating the crepes I made are saying they’re delicious.)

Izumi: Are you taking orders, sir?

Sakuya: Yeah, of course!

Sakuya: …Huh, Director!? And Masumi-kun!

Izumi: Hehe. We came here to get something to eat as soon as we could.

Sakuya: Welcome!

Masumi: …Why’s Sakuya here?

Izumi: Huh!? I thought I told you we were coming here to eat because Sakuya’s working here part-time!?

Masumi: I only listened to the part about going on a crepe date with you.

Sakuya: Ahaha…

Izumi: Alright, which one do you want to get, Masumi-kun? I’m getting this one with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

Masumi: I’ll have the same then.

Sakuya: Coming right up! I’ll get started on your order as soon as possible.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Thanks for waiting. Your fresh strawberry and whipped cream crepe!

Izumi: Waah, it looks so good! …Wait, huh?

Izumi: The ingredients are the same, but is the shape of the toppings different from the sample…?

Sakuya: So you noticed? I tried arranging the strawberries to look like a flower.

Sakuya: When I was at the shop where I was given some tips, I saw a little girl who was super happy because her crepe looked cute like a flower--.

Sakuya: And since you came all the way here, I thought I’d arrange your crepe to look like a bouquet, Director!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Choose!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Option 1: It’s pretty.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: It’s so pretty! Almost like a real bouquet.

Izumi: I’d better take a lot of pictures of it before I eat it. …Fufu, the pictures are so cute, I’m sure I’ll be looking at them again soon.

Sakuya: I’m glad I could make you smile with the crepe I made. I mean, you’re always lovely, but you look really, really cute right now, Director!

Sakuya: Ah…! Sorry, I didn’t mean to say you were cute!

Izumi: Ahaha, it’s a little embarrassing since I’m not used to being told that. But, I’m glad.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Option 2: It’s well-made.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: It’s really well-made. It almost seems like a shame to eat it.

Sakuya: The recipe wouldn’t be the same as the one from this shop, but if you ever want to eat one, I can always make something similar for you at the dorms, Director!

Izumi: Ahaha, really? Well then, I’ll eat this one freely.

Sakuya: …How is it?

Izumi: It’s really good! It has a gentle flavor.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Really? I’m glad then!

Masumi: …You’re talking to her too much.

Sakuya: Ah, s-sorry. I’ll go make one for you too, Masumi-kun!

Izumi: Ah, right! Do you want yours to be like a bouquet too, Masumi-kun? It’d be really cute and it’d match with mine!

Masumi: Matching with you… Sakuya, make me the same.

Sakuya: Hehe, coming right up!

[machiavellli]

https://x.com/heccinbork/status/1811222183500255666

^^^ Ignorant people like THAT original poster who says stuff like that makes me so mad. Especially when those same people ignore the atrocities that the Sith caused. Anyways, the Jedi are GOOD, and that show is very poorly written and pandered to the haters like that original poster.

girl that scene was so out of any Star Wars physics and logic. I can’t comprehend to save my life HOW stuff like this gets accepted when it comes to create new products. It’s almost as if the new Star Wars directory’s completely lost sight of the actual Star Wars lore and what George Lucas meant. Perhaps because they don’t actually put that much of an effort anymore, since from what I came to understand they are shifting in MCU mode™️ , dropping products like it’s nothing. Because you know: quality has never been a synonym of speed. Anyway, they make money with all of this and they know, doesn’t matter how much we get pissed.

It’s just that it is so astonishing to me how willing they are to make the Jedis, a group of people that suffered a GENOCIDE, look bad.

Why are they using the narrative of the empire/siths, the guys literally based off the nazis, for justifying the mass massacre of the Jedis? Don’t they hear themself? Why are they going full nazi? The sith isn’t some cool edgy goth club. They are straight up villains. Then yes, there are some more prone to evil than others, but still. There is good and bad, very evidently so too (as Lucas intended for the Star Wars universe to be).

Using Palpatine’s narrative, arguably one of the most, if not the most, evil character in the whole franchise to justify violence against an ethnical group of people is…an interesting choice of direction, to say the least.

The Jedi were set up for their failure: it was never their fault. You can make them look as bad as you may want, but what happened to them was simply atrocious.

I want to live in delusions and I want to think that this show will end as someone wrote here on tumblr (sorry I forgot who): with all of this being a story told from Palpatine’s prospective. Otherwise this show, the writers in particular, failed for me.

I wanted to like the Acolyte, I thought it had a great cast and a VERY interesting story to tell…like THIS IS THE HIGH REPUBLIC CMON!! I have been waiting for this for SOOO long. But perhaps I’ll never learn: certain things aren’t made to be put on a screen. I was sad over the misrepresentation of Thrawn in Ahsoka and now the one of Jedi’s here. Star Wars do better pls. (This goes beyond this show’s narrative, I’m talking about the quality in any aspect, such as the writing, the stenography, the costumes,…).

Like I’m sorry, but the hot sith can distract me just for so long, but it isn’t enough to save a show. Nice try tho, Manny and that beach scenes was the best part without a doubt.

Last but not least…YES. Like it has become impossible to criticise on this show openly because you get immediately associated with racist bigots. I just want the jedi to have their good representation and for Star Wars to have good stories. I just want the best for anyone and I despise the people doing hate on the cast. They are just ignorants who don’t care about the franchise.

Let’s hope for the best. Mh.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

A little broken

Over a year after defeating Thanos and almost losing Tony, Peter is still haunted by the final battle. In an attempt to outrun the memories, he starts college far from New York.

It takes a visit from his mentor and an ill-timed flu bug that brings them both to their knees until Peter realises that he doesn’t have to take on the whole world alone.

Some Irondad hurt/comfort for everyone who’s quarantining at home (and those of you who have to work. Stay safe!) This is my @marveltrumpshate​ fic for Heyriel. Great thanks to @whumphoarder​ for doing so much more than beta reading. I hope you enjoy.

______________________________

The first time they meet, Peter isn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

The man shows up unannounced to Peter’s apartment, chewing on May’s date loaf and walking around Peter’s room as if he owns the place—talking as if he owns the whole world. Peter is both awed and appalled, May’s occasional comments about greedy billionaires ringing in his ears. But then Peter starts talking about his motivation for doing what he does, and for a moment something in the older man’s face seems to break. That’s when Peter knows that there’s more to him than what makes the tabloids. 

Germany is both a thrilling adventure and an unparalleled disaster. Peter watches the group of heroes he’s looked up to since childhood break apart before his very eyes. The fight is grueling, taking more out of Peter than he knew was possible. He is lying there on the ground, trying to catch his breath, when Tony bends over him. And for a moment, there it is again: the broken facade on his face—below it, pure panic. The way Tony looks at him with thinly masked worry reminds him of Ben’s expression whenever Peter was little and having an asthma attack, and it does something to his insides that he can’t really explain. 

Then, a few months later, Peter inevitably screws up and slices a ferry in half. The two of them are standing high above the city when Tony takes his suit away, and Peter feels tears pricking at his eyes. He cries later in his room, alone, because it’s so much more than just the suit; he feels that by disappointing Tony he’s lost his chance at something so much bigger. 

It’s a miracle he manages to fix this one.

After Siberia, Tony is darker and quieter and indisputably older—like he’s finally grown up. Peter is sad for him, but it’s not all bad either. This new Tony starts taking more of an interest in Peter’s training—starts acting like a real mentor to him. There are afternoons spent together in the lab, dinners at the tower with Tony and Mr. Rhodes, and even the occasional low-stakes mission. Slowly, Tony’s world starts to feel like a place where Peter might one day belong.

But then, the universe gets ripped in two and somewhere on a red and war-torn planet, Peter clings to Tony in desperation, feeling first his body, then his thoughts slip away from him. 

When he wakes again, there’s another battle to fight, but this time there’s no thrill to it. It’s his personal horror film come true.

He can hear the moment when Tony’s heart stops. Peter cries openly this time.  

*

In the end, Tony makes it through. He loses an arm and much of his physical strength, but he’s stubborn as hell and fights his way through recovery. But somehow the day of the battle never fades from Peter’s brain like memories should. 

When he finishes school, May proposes NYU, Tony naturally wants MIT, but Peter chooses Culver University. It might be good for him to get out of New York, is what he says. It might be good for him not to be in a place that has Tony’s legacy lurking around every corner, is what he thinks. And maybe moving away will make things easier when he returns. 

Three months into Peter’s first semester at Culver, Tony accepts a guest speaking gig at the university and decides to stay at a nearby hotel to spend the weekend with Peter.

And that’s when it all goes to hell. 

*

“Hello? Earth to Peter.” Tony waves a hand in his face. “Who are you daydreaming about?”

“Huh?” Peter looks up at Tony, then down at his half-finished iced tea. “Nothing,” he evades. “Nobody, I mean. Sorry, I’m just—just tired. And I have a lot of work left this weekend.”

“Mh-hmm.” Tony looks as if he isn’t quite believing it. “You want more spring rolls?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait for the main dish.” 

Peter hasn’t eaten much today, but he’s not quite hungry either. He’s nursing a headache and the tiredness is not just an excuse. As happy as Peter is to see his mentor, Tony’s timing in showing up the week before midterms really could’ve been better. Peter feels like he might fall asleep right here at the restaurant table, but he already knows that he’s going to have to stay up until late to finish his readings. 

“You’re doing it again,” Tony points out. “You’re being awfully quiet, kid. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, seriously.” Peter manages to hold eye contact for a few seconds and then takes another sip of his iced tea. “So, you said we could fix the suit while you’re here?”

Tony takes the bait (or maybe just lets it drop intentionally) and the talk quickly turns technical. 

After a few minutes, they’re interrupted by the waitress—a student Peter thinks he recognises from his Python lab—who stares at Tony for a moment, her gaze lingering on the scars decorating his right cheek and ear before dropping down to his bionic arm. Then she catches herself and asks for their order.

When their food arrives, Peter observes Tony take out a box of different coloured pills and swallow a couple of them dry. 

“I know, not sexy,” Tony remarks, noticing his look, “but sort of necessary if I want to keep this baby ticking.” He taps his hand over his chest with a wan smile. 

Peter grins half-heartedly in return, even while he can feel his insides clench. The comment reminds him of the time Tony’s heart actually did stop, of the battlefield with the dust of Thanos’ army still hanging in the air, of the utter helplessness he felt when Tony snapped, of― 

“Uhm, excuse me?” It’s the waitress again, her voice shy, cheeks blushing. She extends a piece of paper toward Tony. “Could I, uhm, could you, maybe give me an autograph for my sister? She’s a big fan. I mean, we all are, of course, but she’s got her room decorated with posters of you and all that…”

Tony looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing around his lips. “What’s your sister’s name?” he asks finally, making a show of producing an integrated pen from his bionic arm. The waitress is visibly impressed, and Peter resists the temptation to roll his eyes―it’s far from the first time he’s seen this trick. If Tony was famous before, it’s nothing compared to the status he earned since dusting Thanos and saving the universe. 

Tony gives the waitress an easy smile along with the paper he passes back, and then turns back to Peter with a smirk. “Fangirls,” he whispers. “Gotta love ‘em. Did I tell you about the kid who offered me all of his allowance for a hoofprint from Gerald?”

*

Because Tony is Tony, it takes a long time before he has caught Peter up on anecdotes of Morgan, Happy, and Gerald’s newest misadventures, and by the time Peter gets back home, it is already late evening. His studio apartment is small and rather old, with walls that have turned grey over time and windows that don’t fully close anymore, but it’s got its own kitchen and bathroom, which is much better than a dorm room―especially since Peter wouldn’t know how to explain the odd hours he keeps or the regular blood stains in the shower to any of his fellow students. 

Peter’s head has been throbbing painfully for the better part of an hour, and the lights from the screen when he pulls out his laptop don’t make it any better. All his body seems to want is sleep, but if he’s going to spend the next two days upgrading his suit with Tony’s help, he really needs to get these chemistry readings finished. 

He tries for several hours, but the words don’t seem to want to stick in his mind and it takes longer than expected until he feels that he has understood the chapter. Peter drops into bed around 3:30 in the morning, too tired to even change out of his jeans, and falls asleep immediately.

*

Peter is woken up by someone knocking on his apartment door to the beat of “We Will Rock You”, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. He drags himself out of bed and over to the door.

“Finally,” Tony sighs when Peter lets him in, shoving a reusable thermal to-go cup in the kid’s face and causing him to flinch backwards. “I thought I’d have to actually start singing.” Then he gives Peter a once-over and his face falls. “What happened to you?”

“I think I’m sick,” Peter replies, realising it is true the same moment the words leave his mouth. His head is hurting even more than the night before and his throat feels raw and painful, but the worst is the utter weakness in his body and the chills running down his back that tell him he has a fever. 

“What kind of sick?” Tony asks suspiciously. To Peter’s surprise, instead of turning on his heel and leaving the surely germ-infested apartment, Tony steps over the threshold and raises a hand to cup to Peter’s forehead.

“Dunno.” Peter shrugs. “Just feel like garbage. Flu was going around the school last week―it’s probably that.”

“Aw, kid,” Tony sighs, something like compassion in his voice. “Yeah, you feel really warm.” 

“Sorry about the suit,” Peter says, moving back to sit down on his bed heavily. “I guess you can just go back to New York early then.” 

“What? You think I’m coldhearted enough to leave my former intern alone on his deathbed somewhere in the Virginian wilderness?” 

“Culver’s not that bad,” Peter defends. “And I’m not alone either.”

“So that means you have someone here to take care of you?” Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow.

Peter hesitates. “I… May’s a nurse,” he evades. “I can call her.” 

Truth is, there actually isn’t anybody. He hasn’t really made friends yet―at least certainly not the kind he would consider asking to take care of him while he’s down with the flu. He calls May twice a week, skypes with Ned—and occasionally still with MJ—on the weekends, and he’s friendly enough with his classmates when they’re working together in classes. But his downtime is mostly spent studying on his own and patrolling the city at night.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” Tony looks him over appraisingly, then seems to make a decision and presses the cup of hot chocolate into Peter’s hand. “Guess I’ll stick around for a bit. Here, drink that.” 

“I don’t really feel like it.” Peter is definitely queasy, bordering on nauseous, and the thought of drinking something as rich as hot chocolate almost makes his stomach turn. He shifts on the bed so that he can lean against the headboard, feeling too tired to hold his body up without support.

“Well, you need to have something. Super metabolism and all that.” Tony strides over to the small, definitely not tidy kitchenette and starts opening cupboards, most of which are empty. He comes up with a few packets of shrimp-flavoured instant noodles and a box of Coco Puffs. “Really, kid?”

“I was gonna get groceries today,” Peter says defensively. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that now,” Tony states. “What do you say to buttered noodles? That’s all Morgan ever wants when she’s sick.” 

“Yeah, that’s...that’s fine,” Peter says, dumbfounded at the idea of Tony Stark going to the supermarket and making pasta for him. 

“Good. Glad that you agree, since that’s about as far as my cooking skills go.” He zips up his jacket and grabs Peter’s keys from the table. “Don’t do anything stupid till I’m back.” With that, he’s out of the door. 

Peter doesn’t feel like he’d be able to do anything stupid even if he wanted to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this bad, and with his Spider-Manning lifestyle, that really says something. He’s thirsty, but his throat hurts in a way that doesn’t make him want to swallow anything. There’s an ugly taste in his mouth and he really wants to brush his teeth, but the bathroom could just as well be a hundred miles away. 

If May were here, she would have set him up on the sofa with Star Trek: TOS playing on the TV while changing his sheets and airing out the room, he thinks. And suddenly the homesickness hits him like a train. He misses May. He misses New York and his friends and even the busy schedule that high school provided him with, but mostly he misses coming home to an apartment that’s not empty, having someone to eat breakfast with in the mornings and share his day with in the evenings over burnt teriyaki chicken. Just the thought of May’s disastrous cooking skills almost brings tears to his eyes. 

He stays like this for an indefinite amount of time, feeling miserable and blinking back tears, until Tony eventually returns. He sets down the shopping bag on the table and closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge between them with his fingers, the telltale sign that he has a headache. 

“You okay?” Peter asks hoarsely.

“Yeah. You live in a village, kid. Took forever to find a parking spot and then everyone and their mother wanted an autograph. Basically fought my way out of there. Might have to give my lawyer a heads up, actually.” 

Peter can’t even bring himself to force a laugh. A part of him wants to tell Tony to just go home already; the other part of him really, really doesn’t want to be alone right now. He sniffs hard and swallows to keep his nose from dripping.

“Hey,” Tony’s expression sobers as he sits down next to him on the mattress. “Did I miss something?”

“I just―” Peter rubs a sleeve over his watery eyes, feeling embarrassed. He thinks for an excuse and suddenly remembers the very real problems of college. “Ah, crap.” 

“Huh?” Tony asks.

“I have two tests next week,” Peter admits miserably. “I haven’t done anything for them yet―I was going to study this weekend in the evenings―”

“That’s fine, kid, we can deal with that. We saved the universe, remember? Schoolwork is nothing compared to Thanos, trust me.”

“I know,” Peter sniffs. Then, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I‘m just missing home.” 

“Ah,” Tony says. He lays his bionic hand on Peter’s shoulder and rubs it. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter goes on, “I didn’t mean, I’m just―” 

“You’re just sick and tired and emotional,” Tony assesses, but there’s no judgement in his voice. “Come on.” He gestures for Peter to lie down and pulls the blanket up to his neck. “Go to sleep, kid.” His tone is almost soft. “I’ll be here.”

Peter falls into a feverish, exhausted sleep. He’s dimly aware of an icy cold gripping him and chills wracking his body, and then of Tony putting an extra blanket on him. At some point Tony offers food, but Peter’s too tired to even fully open his eyes. He mumbles something that he hopes Tony understands and turns over to the other side. 

The next time he fully surfaces, it’s from Tony gently shaking him awake. “Hey Pete, I know you’re tired, but you really need to eat something.” 

“Don’ wanna,” he mutters, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Peter. Come on, kid.” 

He blinks himself awake. The apartment is dark now; it must be evening already. The faint smell of food lingers in the air. “D’ I sleep all day?” he asks, confused. 

“Almost. You can still catch Saturday Night Live.” 

“Hmm.” Peter sits up slowly. He feels woozy and weak and his head is still hurting, which is ridiculous considering how long he slept for. 

“Just let me check your temperature.” Tony takes off his smartwatch and presses it against Peter’s neck, just under his chin. The cold metal sends shivers down his spine. 

“102.6,” Tony reports. “Yeah, that’s not great. A pity that fever reducers don’t work on you.” Tony’s voice sounds rough. Peter squints up at him just as the man turns his head into his shoulder to cough. He looks tired—really tired—and, as far as Peter can make out in the dim light of the bedside lamp, his face is kind of flushed. 

“Are you okay?” Peter croaks. 

“Uhm...” For a moment it looks like Tony wants to lie, but then he falters. “Not really. Guess I caught the same bug you did.”

“Shit,” Peter says. This sucks big time. 

“I already texted May—she’ll probably be up here tomorrow. As soon as you’d had something to eat and drink, I’ll go back to the hotel and get out of your hair. You don’t need an old sick man around.”

“What? No!” Peter blurts before he can stop himself. He feels his breath speeding up, horrified at both the idea of Tony leaving him here alone, and of Tony being on his own in some hotel room feeling as miserable as Peter does now. “Please don’t go.”

Tony looks taken aback. “Pete, I don’t think I’m going to be much help soon.” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Peter feels himself blushing. “It’s nice not to be alone,” he admits in a small voice. 

Tony gives him a long look. “Okay, fine,” he agrees eventually. “But that means you have to listen to me. And the first rule is: eat your dinner, kid.”

They eat quietly. Tony is visibly making an effort not to let on just how bad he’s feeling, but Peter has learned to read the signs during his mentor’s long period of recovery from the snap. Tony is rubbing his shoulder whenever he thinks that Peter isn’t looking, which means that his prosthesis is hurting him. His shoulders are slumped, showing how tired he is, he’s nursing a headache, and then there is the fairly obvious sign of him hardly having eaten anything except for two spoons of pasta and his medication.

After dinner, Tony calls Pepper while Peter calls May. She gives him a run-down of the usual flu advice―“Stay hydrated, try and rest, and for god’s sake, don’t pile every blanket you own on yourself like that time you had strep, Peter—keep the curtains on the windows”—and promises to drive up tomorrow if she can get her shift covered. Then she asks to talk to Tony. Meanwhile, Peter uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth and changes into pyjamas. Observing himself in the mirror, he realises just how run-down he looks. He splashes some water on his face, which does nothing except make him shiver. 

“She asked whether you built that Lego ship she got you for your birthday,” Tony announces when Peter returns. 

“Oh.” Peter hasn’t, of course. He’s neither had the time nor the motivation to do so without Ned.

Tony makes a show of looking around the room. “This place is less personal than an airbnb. I told her there’s not even a poster on your wall.”

“So what?” Peter sighs. He feels the need to defend himself, but he’s too sick to come up with anything.  

Tony doesn’t press it, luckily. He borrows a pair of sweatpants, which end up being a bit short around his ankles and make it look like he’s outgrown them. It almost makes Peter smile. They pull out the sofa-sleeper that May insisted on him getting, but which he’s had no opportunity to use until now. When everything is set up, Peter is almost dizzy from being on his feet for so long. He’s both sweating and shivering and very glad to lie back down under the covers.

Tony turns on the TV, but neither of them is really paying attention. Peter is half asleep a few minutes into the news and Tony seems visibly uncomfortable, shifting around every few minutes on the couch. 

“Do you want to switch to the bed?” Peter asks him, secretly hoping for the answer to be no―he really doesn’t want to get up again. Tony shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. Then he gets to his feet faster than Peter would have thought possible for someone in his condition and bolts to the bathroom. 

Peter hears nothing for a while. Then there’s a few weak coughs, followed by a retch and the sound of splashing. Peter cringes, his own stomach twisting in sympathy. The small size of the apartment and his enhanced hearing make it impossible to tune out the sounds as Tony continues to be sick into the toilet for the next ten minutes. When the retching tapers off, Peter shakily gets to his feet and fills a glass of water from the kitchenette. 

He knocks on the bathroom door, then leans heavily against the frame. “I got you some water,” he calls, hearing Tony’s ragged breathing inside. “Can I come in?”

“Just go to sleep, kid,” Tony croaks. 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbles under his breath. After a few moments, he hears the sound of the flush and then the door opens. Tony is covered in sweat and looking about as bad as Peter feels, plus there’s a greenish tinge to his face. The smell of vomit wafts out and hits Peter’s nostrils, turning his own stomach. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Tony croaks says hoarsely and takes the water from his hand. His metal fingers feel cold against Peter’s burning skin when they brush the back of his hand. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

“‘S okay,” Peter mumbles. He suddenly has a hard time focusing on Tony. His head feels so heavy that he has to rest it against the doorframe as well. 

“Jeez, kid,” Tony comments. Then his face drains even more of colour and he presses his knuckles against his lips, swallowing thickly. “Go lie down, okay? I’ll be out in a bit.” With that, he turns and disappears back into the bathroom. 

For once, Peter listens to him, unsure whether he will be able to keep standing much longer anyway. After a moment of consideration, he curls up on the couch, leaving the softer bed for the older man. He drifts there for a while, trying to tune out the sounds of sickness coming from the bathroom. 

Eventually, he is dimly aware of someone entering the room and switching off the lights. There’s cold metal touching his neck as someone takes his temperature and tsks, then softly brushes back his hair and lays a cold washcloth on his forehead. It feels amazing against Peter’s burning skin.

“Thanks, May,” he mumbles.

*

Waking up feels like resurfacing after diving into a deep pool of water. Peter’s eyelids are sticky with sleep and his brain feels like it’s been through a potato masher. He’s disoriented, so it takes a bit until he realises that it was Tony’s voice that woke him. “Pete,” he hears him calling again weakly. Something about it shakes him out of his half-awake state. 

“Tony?” he asks, sitting up. There’s a rustling sound and a thump from the bathroom, confirming his worry. A quick glance at his phone on the bedside table tells him that it’s just after 4am. Definitely not the time to take a shower.

Peter’s head swims when he gets up from the couch. He takes a few unsteady steps towards the bathroom and then stops to lean against the wall until his vision clears and he can open the door.

Tony is on the ground next to the toilet, wrenched in between the bowl and the shower, looking about ten times worse than earlier. His face is almost grey except for the scars on his right cheek, which are flushed in an angry red. His dark eyes are glassy and deeply exhausted. Sweat sticks to his hair and t-shirt, the prosthesis off and one sleeve dangling empty. The smell of vomit hangs thickly in the air, much stronger than before.

Tony slowly lifts his head when Peter steps in. “Hey,” he croaks, attempting a smile and giving up somewhere halfway. “Sorry for waking you. ‘S just that I could use some help.”

“With what exactly?” 

“Getting up?” Tony asks sheepishly. “I tried and almost took down your shower curtain.”

Peter blinks. “Well, shit.”

“You said it, kid.” 

Peter extends a hand and Tony grabs it gratefully, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Peter closes the toilet lid and Tony sits down on it with a heavy sigh. He shudders convulsively, then closes his eyes and swallows rapidly a few times, as if trying to stop himself from being sick again. 

“How long have you been in here?” Peter asks while checking Tony’s temperature on his smart watch. He finds it to be at a worrying 103.6.

“Uhm,” Tony makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Midnight, maybe? Kinda lost track of time.” Peter frowns. “Sorry for waking you up, kid,” Tony says again, taking his expression the wrong way. “That’s kind of why I didn’t want to stay.”

“You should have called me earlier.” Peter fills a glass of water from the tap. “And yeah, really reassuring to think of you spending the night on the bathroom floor of your hotel because you can’t get up on your own.”

Tony mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Not like I haven’t done that before.” When Peter hands him the glass, the man’s hands are trembling so much that half of the water spills out onto his shirt. 

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “All my spares are at the hotel.” 

“I can give you one of mine,” Peter offers. 

“Yeah, that... that would be great,” Tony says earnestly. Peter wonders whether he’s maybe a bit delirious. “This shit didn’t use to happen before the snap, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter says, surprised at the admission. He fetches a clean sweatshirt from the dresser and hands it to the older man. His mentor’s whole body is shaking violently with chills. While Tony changes, Peter notices that the scar pattern around his shoulder stump is an angry red. It looks painful, but Tony doesn’t seem to care too much. 

Something twists within Peter. It reminds him too much of the time just after the snap when he saw Tony in the hospital, weak with fever from the infected limb.

“Ready for bed?” Peter asks, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“Yeah,” Tony says, although he doesn’t look too sure. Peter pulls him upright and almost staggers under the man’s weight and his own weakness. Tony doesn’t comment, and when Peter turns towards him, he sees that he is biting his lips, eyes largely unfocused. 

“This really hit you hard, huh?” Peter asks when they have made it to the bed, sitting down next to Tony. His mentor is bending forward, head in his hands, panting and shaking like he just finished a mission in the suit. That’s not the only thing, though. With his advanced hearing, Peter can pick up Tony’s heartbeat, which is slightly arrhythmic. 

“Tony?” he asks suspiciously. “What’s wrong with your heart?”

“Yeah, about that…” The other man raises his head, but avoids Peter’s gaze.

“What?” Peter can feel his own heart rate speeding up in worry.

“I, uh...remember my heart medication?” Tony says casually. “I threw up the last dose. It’s not dangerous, don’t worry,” he adds when Peter stares at him, alarmed, “Or, well, at least not yet. Just sort of increases the nausea and dizziness.”

“Can’t you take another dose?” he asks. 

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now,” Tony admits. “But I’ll try in the morning.”

“Hmm.” This doesn’t really do anything to make Peter feel better. 

“Don’ worry, kid” Tony adds with a tired slur to his words, which only achieves the opposite. With a lot of effort, he pulls his legs up to the bed and then lies down under the blankets. “Let’s both sleep for a bit and things will look brighter in the morning.”

Peter gets himself a glass of water and then curls back up on the couch. He hears Tony’s breaths turn heavy and even out before long, but although he feels exhausted, he has a hard time going back to sleep. The sofa feels like rocks under his achy body, and he keeps turning around, unable to find a comfortable position. His head doesn’t fare any better. With his brain cloudy from fever, it’s even harder than usual to stave off the memories from the battlefield. 

His eyes finally fall shut and back he goes, right into the middle of dust and blood and death looming around every corner. He knows that there should be screams and shouts everywhere, but it’s silent, dead silent, except for the underlying thump-thump-thump of Tony’s heartbeat, becoming ever quieter. 

Peter rounds a heap of rubble and almost stumbles over Tony, who is lying on the ground, half his body eaten away by the radiation. The beating gets weaker even as Peter falls onto his knees and tears stream down his cheeks. He’s been here a hundred times, unable to save the man who saved him, and he knows exactly how this is going to end. 

A beat, almost indiscernible. A breath leaves Tony’s lips for the last time. 

Silence. 

*

He wakes to the feeling that everything in the world that possibly could be wrong, is wrong. His whole body is hot and he feels nauseous, almost as if he will throw up. Sick, he remembers. He’s sick. Tony’s― 

Peter forces himself to take a deep breath that comes out more like a choked sob. He sits up dizzily, and is surprised by the light streaming through the windows. His eyes immediately wander to Tony’s still form on the bed, covered by blankets. Peter can make out his slightly ragged breathing, but he’s way past the point where he would feel calmed by this. 

Unsteadily, he makes his way over to the bed and sits down on the floor next to it, shivering uncontrollably from the coldness of the tile, but not wanting to wake Tony up. He tries to calm himself, but his heart won’t stop racing. Everything feels kind of surreal and he can’t shake the image of Tony’s body on the ground, so still and lifeless. There are tears burning in his eyes. He shoves his knuckles in his mouth to keep himself from sobbing loudly. 

“Kid?” Tony’s groggy voice asks. “What ‘appened?”

“S-Sorry,” Peter manages. “G-Go back to sleep.”

“Hey.” Tony rubs his eyes and tries to push himself up, only partially succeeding. Looking at Peter, his face takes on an alarmed expression. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Peter whispers, feeling infinitely stupid. “J-Just had a nightmare.” He bites his lip, but with the admission, a dam seems to break. He can feel his eyes overflowing. 

“Hey, kid, hey,” Tony says softly. “It’s alright.”

Peter just shakes his head, tears dripping down his cheeks onto the floor. Tony extends a trembling hand to wipe them away. “Do these nightmares happen often?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Peter evades. He wonders why he doesn’t just tell the truth. That there’s rarely a night when he doesn’t go back to the battle against Thanos, or the dust on Titan, or even the Vulture in flames―an enemy that seems ridiculous now compared to the ones they’ve fought since, but sometimes still makes it into Peter’s dreams. 

“It’s gotten worse again, hasn’t it?” Tony asks. “Since you moved here.” His hand drops down to Peter’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. 

“‘S okay,” he lies. “I’m fine. Jus’... just the fever.”

“Mmh-hmm, sure. Come here.” Tony nods his head towards himself, weakly lifting an arm, and Peter lets himself get pulled into the hug. “Woah, kid. You’re on fire.” 

“Hmm,” Peter mumbles. “You too.” 

It’s true; Tony’s body feels even hotter than his. The sweatshirt Peter had given him is already damp with sweat. And, most concerningly, his heart is still beating out of rhythm. It reminds Peter way too much of his dream for him to ignore it. 

“You need to have some water,” Tony says, ignorant to Peter’s thoughts. “And eat something. It’s been a while.”

Peter’s queasiness increases at the thought. “Stomach’s not feeling great,” he admits. “How are you doing?” he asks then, into the older man’s chest. “And don’t lie.” 

He feels Tony grimacing. “Like a clock someone forgot to wind up.” His remaining arm lets go of Peter as he brings it to his chest to massage the area around his heart. “But hey, don’t worry. I’m gonna try my pills and some water and then I’ll be back on my bullshit before you know it.” 

But he isn’t. Half an hour later, Peter has to support Tony to the toilet to once again throw up the medication and the few sips of water he’s just managed to get down. He stops trying to reassure Peter after the second bout of painful dry heaves wrack his body and doesn’t even resist when Peter wipes down his grey face with a wet cloth. On their way back, halfway across the bedroom, they almost lose balance when Tony’s legs suddenly give out. Peter just manages to stabilise him before they can faceplant all the way. 

“That’s it. You need to go to the ER,” Peter decides after all-but carrying Tony back to the bed and sitting him down. Peter’s own body feels heavy with exhaustion. Tony weakly shakes his head and opens his mouth to object. “Please, Tony.”

There must have been something in his voice that gave away his desperation because Tony shuts up mid-inhale. He gives Peter a deep look and then nods shakily. ”But only if you eat something first.”

“Okay.” He checks Tony’s temperature, which has climbed even higher, to 103.8. Peter’s own is hardly any better at 103.2, but at least he can still stand―kind of, he realises when he has to sit down to be able to concentrate on his phone screen long enough to call a cab. 

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s a mile long. Peter surveys the meagre food choices and decides that cold pasta with salt looks like the best option. After the first few bites, his queasiness abides a bit and he manages to finish his small plate, suddenly realising how hungry he was. He drinks two glasses of water with it and finally feels a little less lightheaded. Then he goes to the bathroom and, on a whim, swallows a small handful of painkillers from the bottle of Advil Tony has sitting beside his pill box. They will hardly do anything for him, but hopefully they’ll keep him upright until they reach the hospital.

When Peter comes back, he expects Tony to be lying where he left him and is already wondering how he’s going to maneuver him down the stairs from the second floor with the man's balance shot and his own legs feeling like noodles. But Tony is sitting up and in the process of putting on his shoes. His determination, however, falters a bit when it comes to actually standing up. 

“Just go slow,” Peter directs, supporting Tony to the door and taking on most of the man’s weight. “One step at a time.”

They make it down the first staircase before Tony holds up a hand. “Just need a minute,” he exhales, sitting down with a sigh and leaning against the wall, his eyelids fluttering shut. His breathing is ragged. Peter looks at him worriedly, the unsteady thump of the man’s heartbeat loud in his ears. Tony, as if feeling the gaze, opens one eye to squint at him. “Not dead yet, kid. Come on, let’s get downstairs.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that the painkillers are wearing off faster than expected or that Peter’s anxiety is finally getting the better of him, but the cab ride is kind of a blur. He just remembers Tony sitting with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, looking deathly exhausted, and at some point grabbing the older man’s hand and holding on. 

Peter only lets go of it when he has to fill in the forms once they reach the hospital. The ER nurse takes one look at Tony’s scarred face and missing arm and then directs them to a private room. Peter’s hand is shaking so hard that Tony’s name on the form looks like a child’s scrawl. Behind him, his mentor is already being connected to a heart monitor, while another nurse is bringing an IV stand.

He hands the form to the elderly nurse and then has to steady himself against the wall when he stumbles a bit. 

Her brow furrows. “Are you alright?” she asks. 

“Y-Yes,” Peter answers quickly. 

“Bullshit. He’s got the flu too,” Tony mutters from the bed behind them. 

“I’m fine,” Peter insists, feeling his heart rate spike. They’ve done a great deal to keep his secret identity, well, secret while he’s at Culver, and he’s not about to let his powers be discovered just because of a flu bug. “Really, I’m okay. Not a big deal.”

“Honey, you can’t be here as a visitor if you’re sick,” the nurse says, her tone kind, but firm. “You’ll risk infecting the other patients.”

Peter looks up, taking a moment to understand the implications. “What? No, please don’t make me go!” 

The nurse eyes him critically, then sighs and relents. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to be inside this room at all times. I can’t have you walking around spreading germs.”

“That’s okay,” Peter agrees immediately. It’s not like he was planning to walk the halls anyway; his legs feel like they might go on strike any moment. When the nurse turns around to start working on Tony, Peter wobbles over to an uncomfortable chair in the corner and collapses into it.

He feels like the next time he takes an actual breath is once Tony is hooked up to painkillers, antiemetics, and something for his heart, the fluids dripping steadily into his arm through an IV and the heart monitor finally—finally—reverts back to a steady rhythm of beeps. Tony isn’t conscious anymore to notice; after spending the better part of the last 24 hours on Peter’s bathroom floor, his exhaustion has finally gotten the upper hand. He drifts off as soon as the meds start kicking in. 

Once the nurses leave, Peter drags his chair over next to the bed. Tony looks—there is no other way to describe it—frail. Like he might fall apart any minute if Peter stops watching. His fever is still much too high at 103.3 and he is sleeping fitfully, as if the dreams are haunting him as well. Peter can still see images from the nightmare in his mind. Not clear, but looming, like he might find himself on the battlefield any time he turns around. 

He doesn’t want to fall asleep, but he’s dead tired. Now with the adrenaline fading, it feels like his body weighs a thousand pounds. He suddenly doesn’t even feel able to keep his head up, and instead lets himself slump forward, crossing his arms and resting his head on top. His cold hands are a sharp contrast to his burning face. 

His mind feels oddly detached from his body, like he’s floating, and he has no idea how much time has passed when suddenly the nurse shakes him awake from where he’s slidden down onto the edge of Tony’s mattress. “Can you just move for a second, hon?” she asks gently. “I need to hook up some more fluids."

"Oh yeah, sure, of course..." Peter nods groggily and goes to stand up a little too quickly. The moment he is on his feet, he can practically feel the blood rushing away from his head, and a wave of darkness rolls over him. Peter grabs for something to hold on to but comes up empty. He feels himself sway into the nurse, who grabs his shoulders and just about manages to keep him from face planting on the hospital floor.

“You’re really warm, dear,” she observes after helping him sit back down on the chair. "You really can't be here if you're not a patient. Let me call someone to get you a bed."

“But I—” Peter feels panic swelling in his chest. He doesn’t want to leave Tony alone, especially when he can’t be sure that the man’s heart won’t stop again, but he can’t let anyone find out about Spider-Man either―

"Peter, it's fine,” he hears a thin voice. Tony, just woken up, is shifting wearily under the blanket, turning his head towards them. “They'll sign NDAs and no one will know. Just do what she says and get in the bed, alright?"

So Peter does. The nurse calls her colleague, who sets up a bed next to Tony’s and takes Peter’s vitals. After Peter groggily explains that fever reducers won’t do anything to bring down his 103.5 degree temperature, the nurse hooks him up to fluids to counteract the dehydration.

The world goes blurry again and he is half asleep when he sees Tony slip something into the elderly nurse’s hand on her way out the door.  

When she’s gone, Peter gives Tony a confused look. “You bribed her to let me stay in the room?” 

“What are you talking about?” Tony scoffs lightly. “I just asked nicely and told her you took part in saving the world―that was more than enough.” He shrugs a bit. “And I might’ve signed an autograph for her son.” 

Peter would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn’t hurting so much. “Still a bribe,” he mumbles.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Tony says warmly.

He closes his eyes but then opens them again to see Tony watching him. “You’ll be okay, right?” Peter asks. 

“Of course,” Tony replies. “I’m always okay.”

*

When Peter wakes up again in the early evening, it’s to May lightly stroking his curls out of his face. A tension he didn’t even know he was holding seems to fall off his shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” she says softly when he hugs her. “Rough weekend, huh?” 

It is decided that neither of them has to spend the night at the hospital―Tony has to fight to be discharged, but they eventually let him go after making him promise to rest, take his medicine, and tell May if his heart acts up again. In turn, Tony collects each of the staff members’ contact details to have his lawyers send NDAs later. 

The drive back to the flat is quiet. Tony attempts small talk for the first five minutes, but is still too out of it from the combined force of illness and drugs, and quickly gives up again. Peter is just relieved that May is there. 

Once they’re home, May makes both of them eat some toast and then ushers them off to bed. Peter feels like he hasn’t slept since he moved to Virginia, and maybe that’s true in a way. But now with Tony and May both there, he finally feels like it’s safe to let himself go. 

*

He wakes up to May opening the windows to let in the chilly morning air.

“C’n I have some water?” he mumbles. 

May hands him the glass. “Your fever has come down a bit overnight. Feeling any better?” she asks. 

“Hmm.” He’s still weary and headachey, but the chills are gone and the world seems much less frightening now. “How’s Tony?” he asks.

“Still asleep. We talked a little last night—he didn’t get much rest, I’m afraid. But you should wake him up and tell him it’s time for food and medicine.”

Peter sits up and is rewarded with a lack of dizziness. He goes to the toilet and washes his face before trudging over to the bed and sitting down carefully on the mattress next to his mentor’s sleeping form. Tony’s eyes are moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids as if he’s in the middle of a dream. His hair is a greasy mess, the scars as red and angry as before and his cheeks still flushed with fever, but the rest of his face isn’t as pale as it was the previous day, and, when he listens carefully, Peter can make out his regular heartbeat.

“Tony?” Peter whispers, gently touching his flesh shoulder. 

Tony grunts and rolls himself over. “Pep?” he asks in a muffled voice. 

“Not exactly.” Tony blinks awake and squints up at Peter. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh…I want my hospital drugs back,” Tony half-jokes. “But not on the verge of cardiac failure anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmm.” Peter reaches for his hand to check the smart watch. “Your temperature’s down.” Tony’s is at 101.5, whereas Peter’s is at 100.7. Tony gives first the numbers and then Peter a critical once-over before closing his eyes again. 

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Peter warns. “May said you need to take your medicine and eat something.”

Tony groans audibly. “Nurses never let you have any fun...” 

*

The first time they met, Peter wasn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

Times have changed, Peter thinks, as he surveys the scene in his apartment. 

After a painfully slow shuffle to the bathroom and back, Tony decides that he doesn’t feel up to walking around just yet, so they all eat breakfast in bed, assembled on various pillows and blankets, while Star Trek plays on the TV in the background. With his appetite returning and worries temporarily lifted, Peter devours two pieces of toast with chocolate spread and a glass of orange juice while Tony sticks to saltines, tea, and the pills he swallows under May’s watchful eye. 

When they’re done, May announces that she’s heading out for groceries. “No crime-fighting until I’m back,” she orders with a smile. “And I want each of you to finish the water bottles on the table.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Tony salutes sarcastically. The moment May shuts the door, he sets down his half-finished cup of tea and slumps visibly into his pillows. 

“You alright?” Peter asks immediately. 

“Jeez, kid, you’re worse than Morgan,” Tony comments, not without affection. “I know last night was scary for you, but honestly, this is not even in my top 20 for life-threatening events I’ve experienced in the last few decades.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Peter retorts. “Because it really doesn’t.”

He must have come across less playful than intended, because Tony’s expression sobers. He regards Peter with the deep look that always gives him the feeling of being x-rayed. 

“I know,” Tony says. “But that’s kind of the point. I’ve been through so much shit in my life that I know pretty much exactly how you feel.” 

He drags himself a bit more upright and lays a warm hand on Peter’s forearm. “I know how it is when your thoughts circle back to the same moment over and over again and the nightmares won’t let you rest. I know how easy it is to isolate yourself because the memories are eating you up and you feel like nobody can help you.”

He pauses for a moment and rubs a hand over his forehead. Peter remembers the darkness on Tony’s face the first time they met and wonders whether that’s what Tony sees on his now. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Tony continues, “you don’t have to pretend to be fine if you’re not. At least not in front of me or May.” 

The irony of it almost makes Peter smile, despite the lump forming in his throat. Tony just spent the last 36 hours trying to downplay the pain he was in. “You are one to talk,” he remarks.

Tony chuckles quietly. “Still learning, kid.” He picks up his tea cup and takes another sip before continuing in a softer voice. “Just trust me, it‘s okay to be a little broken, even when you’re not sick. And you don’t have to hide it. I know what loneliness looks like. I’ve been through all of it and it took me years to understand that the only thing that can help is to let other people in―the right kind of people.”

The thoughts are running a marathon in Peter’s head and he’s dimly aware that he’s trembling. He swallows hard before speaking. “It’s just… sometimes I don’t even want to remember. It’s just so hard to start talking. About”―he takes a deep breath―“the battle. And the dreams. And everything else.”

“Yeah, it is. I never said it would be easy.” Tony seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he pulls Peter toward him one-handedly so that they can lie side by side. He covers both of them with his blanket. Peter turns his head into Tony’s shoulder and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. “And we don’t have to start today. But I’ll be there whenever you’re ready.”

________________

If you liked this, you might also enjoy my other post-Endgame fic (in which Tony is obviously still alive): What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

[sukarabia]

Ruggie x Sky - How Pretty

Because I’m a sucker for festival dates, after all T_T

Sky let out a dejected sigh as she walked through the festival stalls. Everywhere she looked were couples, friend groups, or families, all having fun: yet here she was, ruminating as she hung her head low. Night Raven College was celebrating one of its anniversaries, and truly, she couldn’t even remember what that celebration was for. But what she knew is that she messed up, big, big time.

--

“Oi, Sky- you sure about this? That box’s kinda heavy, isn’t it?” Ace looked dubious as he saw Sky pick up a box full of paint tins.

“Ace, what do you take me for? Carrying such a small box will be a piece of cake for me.”

She regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth. What was even in that box? Sky was told it was only 'a few’ paint tins meant to help the art club design posters, but the box was a lot heavier than she had thought. Nevertheless, her pride wouldn’t let her admit that she couldn’t carry it- so off she went, legs wobbling. But seriously- why was that box so big? She couldn’t even see the ground, and-

“Wah- Sky, careful!”

“Huh?”

As soon as she heard Ace’s voice, Sky looked up- only to feel herself lose balance on the slippery ground. Her brain couldn’t process what had happened- but in the span of a few seconds, she landed on the ground, the box’s content shattered on the floor, and saw... someone drenched in paint?

“Sky, you oka-” Ace rushed over before stopping. “Who- WAH? Dorm Leader Riddle???”

“R-Rosehearts-senpai?” Sky’s eyes widened as she heard Ace pronounce his name. But her classmate was right- right in front of her was Riddle, completely drenched in green paint.

“.....”

Riddle stood there for a second, seemingly processing what just happened. Ace and Sky, frozen in fear, waited for him to explode- but to their surprise, Riddle just sighed and wiped some paint off his face. His eyes seemed to say, not surprised.... as he spoke to Sky:

“Sky, I think it’s better if you don’t handle the manual work- as a matter of fact, I think it’s better if you walk around the festival for now.”

--

Sky felt tears prickle her eyes as she recalled the events. Ah, seriously, how could she embarrass herself that badly? Ace tried to cheer her up, “Do you not realise how lucky you are?? It would have been off with your head for me!!”, but even her friend’s attempts at recomforting her felt futile as she remembered the expression on Riddle’s face.

It’s not like I was expecting anything from you, anyway. It was the exact expression everyone always looked at her with. Especially him. It felt that as time passed, the distance between them was growing further and further- she was trying her best, but no matter what she did, things always ended up going south. Would she always remain the little black duck of the family? Lost in her thoughts, Sky did not notice the silhouette behind her, until she felt a hand on her shoulder-

“Kyaaah!! what-” Sky jumped, startled, until she recognised the owner of the hand. “Ruggie?? You scared me!”

“I could say the same thing, y’know! What’s up with ya? I tried callin’ you, but you just wouldn’t pick up. What are ya doin’ all alone?”

“Ruggie....”

“Huh? Why are you crying? Wait, wait, explain-”

--

“... So that’s what happened, huh.”

“Ugh... Seriously, so embarrassing... I wanna hide in a hole....” Sky sighed, sitting on a bench, a little further from the festival.

“But aren’t ya happy? That he didn’t get mad, I mean?”

“Of course not!! If he doesn’t get upset, that means he was totally expecting it!!” Sky eyes teared up again. “I tried so hard to build a reputation, but now it feels like everyone knows how useless I am, that they don’t even have expectations for me anymore....”

Ruggie looked at the young girl next to him. Slowly, he reached his hand to pat her head, looking away as she started sobbing. The laughter and lights from the festival in the distance seemed almost cruel as Sky struggled to catch her breath. Why do things never go as planned?

“... Ain’t that better, though?”

“Huh?” Surprised, her tears stopped as she peered over at Ruggie.

“The fact that people know how you truly are, y’know. Doesn’t it feel better, to not have to keep up a front and whatnot?”

“But-”

“No one’s perfect, y’know. Not Jamil, not me- not even Vil-san, or Malleus-san. Everyone goes through hardships ‘n’stuff. Ain’t that normal?” At the mention of Jamil’s name, Sky’s face fell. “We all go through trials, and that’s what life’s all about, doesn’t it? Doesn’t come with a guide book or anythin’.” His eyes met Sky’s. “What just happened, wasn’t that because ya didn’t ask for help? It’s rich comin’ from me, but y’know, asking for help isn’t a bad thing. No one’s gonna judge you for that, m’kay?”

Sky let out a small hum as she diverted her attention back to the stall. The lights seemed even stronger reflected in her teary eyes, and Ruggie was almost enchanted by the sight. Shaking his head, he snapped out of it, and stood up. Startled, Sky looked at him with a surprised expression as Ruggie extended his hand to her.

“Now, what d’ya say about us visiting the festival? Might as well, right? Shishishi ~”

--

“Waaah, Ruggie, you’re amazing!!!”

Sky marvelled over Ruggie’s goldfish scooping skills, as the young hyena managed to catch another 3 goldfishes at once. The Octavinelle student responsible for the stand seemed to grow more and more uneasy as his goldfish stock began to shrivel. Seriously, how is that guy so good at this...?

“Heh, that’s nothin’ for me, y’know ~” Ruggie’s ears wiggled, obviously delighted by the praise. “In my hometown, we often go fishin’, and stuff.”

“Fishing? But... not for goldfishes, right?” Sky looked caught off-guard. Eating goldfishes...? Seeing her expression, Ruggie could not resist teasing her.

“Shishishi, of course we did. Goldfishes are delicious, y’know? Want me to cook them for you later?”

“H-huh? No!!!! You shouldn’t eat goldfishes!! Look how adorable they are!!!” Instinctively, Sky protectively held her goldfish to her chest. Ruggie couldn’t help but laugh at her innocence.

“Shishishi, you believe me way too easily ~” but Sky’s expression remained full of suspicion. “... Oi, what d’ya take me for... Why would I eat goldfishes, there’s barely any nutrients in them, y’know.”

“.. Pff... Hahaha... Ruggie, you’re seriously so weird.” It was Ruggie’s turn to get caught off-guard. Sky finally looked like she was back to normal, and he couldn’t help but slightly blush at her smiling face.

“.. Ah, that’s right. Wanna go to another stand?” He tried changing the subject, looking away to hide his rosy cheeks.

“Ah- I completely forgot about it!” Sky jerked up, startling Ruggie in the process. “Ignihyde are doing a carabine stand- I heard Mayu sewed cute plushies as prizes, I wanna go!!”

--

“Aaah ~ that was fun....” Sky sighed as she sat on a bench near to another stall.

“Sure was. Didn’t know those Ignihyde guys designed a whole zombie-style shootin’ game... Kinda felt off with the whole festival theme, but it was fun ~” Ruggie leaned back on the bench, stretching as he drank a can of fresh coke.

“Ah... We walked for so long, I’m super thirsty now...”

“Mh? Wanna drink mine?”

“Huh?” Sky blushed as her eyes widened. “N-No way! That’s basically an indirect kiss!!!”

“An indirect ki-” Ruggie looked caught off guard, before switching to a grin, scooting closer to Sky. “Shishishi, if that’s the first thing ya thought about, must’ve been on yer mind, hasn’t it? ~”

“W-??? No, of course not!!!” Sky got up, as red as a tomato. “I-I’ll go get my own, you stay here!!!”

“Want me to-”

“No!!!! I don’t need you to come!!! You stay here!!!”

The young girl stormed off, ears flaming as Ruggie let out a small laughter. Man, was he glad to finally see her acting like her usual self again. Jamil’s Overblot really affected her, after all: for a few weeks, she barely smiled, sighing and looking dejected whenever she was alone. Ruggie had been seriously worried about her- she really took her vice dorm head’s ob personally, and had avoided all social interactions for a while. But a month after, it finally seemed like she was regaining hope. Aah ~ how troublesome... But I’m glad. He thought, watching over Sky as she pondered over which drink to buy.

“- Hey, isn’t that Gray-senpai lil’ sis?”

“Ah, Sky Cymatilis, right? Yeah, heard about her.”

“She’s kinda cute, isn’t she? Man, they’re really do look alike.”

“Nah, leave it, wouldn’t bother. They’re like night and day.”

Ruggie snapped out of his thoughts as he overheard two RSA students walk past. Were they talking about Sky? Little sister? Sky never really talked about her family, but Ruggie remembered overhearing Sky and Ace complain about older siblings. What that ‘Gray-senpai’ her older brother? And what was that last comment about?

“Alright, I’m back!!!”

“Ah, Sky, welcome back. What did ya get?”

“This cool drink from the Mostro Lounge stall, they had so many flavours!”

“I see, I see ~” Ruggie sipped on his drink absentmindedly, before turning to the girl next to him. “... Hey, Sky. Got any siblings?”

“H-huh? S-siblings?” Sky expression looked like she had just swallowed salt. “A-ah.. Well... I do... K-kinda... An older brother...”

Ruggie hummed a small ah, I see, as he finished his drink. Sky’s reaction told him what he wanted- that it was a sensitive subject all right, so he chose not to pry about it further. She’d tell him about it in due time, probably. On the other hand, Sky seemed preoccupied as she twirled the drink in her hand. Siblings, huh.... After a few minutes of silence, Ruggie plopped a hand on her head.

“Wanna go see fireworks? They should be startin’ soon. I know a perfect spot for that ~”

--

“Waaah, this place is so nice!”

“Heh, of course ~ Savanclaw’s the best place for firework viewin’.”

“Seems like a lot ofstudents thought the same, huh. It’s fuller than I expected.” Sky leaned back on the rock Ruggie chose, considerably higher than the rest. “But it’s a lot comfier than I thought, and we’re going to get such a great view of the fireworks!!”

“Shishishi  ~ Got that right.” Ruggie smiled, turning his head as soon as he heard a loud BANG! “Oh, they’re startin’.”

The two young students remained in silence for a while, in awe of the fireworks. Crowley made sure that NRC’s festival would be more impressive than RSA’s, all the way down to the colours of the fireworks- the green and blue-ish colours filled the night sky, reminiscent of auroras.

“Wow.... The colours are amazing... It really feels like I’m in another country right now....”

“Yeah, they really went all-out with that one, huh.”

The show went on for a few minutes, occasionally accompanied by a bunch of “Ooh”s and “Aah”s as the fireworks depicted the face of the great seven, as well as Crowley’s own mask- which brought a few laughter from the crowd. As a rain of spark came on during the finale, everyone cheered, raising their hands to the sky, entranced by the sight.

“Wow, that is so pretty...” Sky marvelled.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” But Ruggie hadn’t been watching the fireworks. How could he? All his attention was devoted to watching Sky’s dewy eyes, illuminated by the large-flowered fireworks.

“.... How pretty.”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Dennis

Welllllll this one got a bit away from me. I blame cabin fever (two days snowed in) and my angst addiction. Story 4 for @drawlight‘s advent challenge.

Couple of notes: Dennis, MA is a real place, and chosen for the setting because (a) it is the site of the first recorded commercial cranberry bog in America, and (b) it has a very silly name. It’s actually quite nice, if you manage to visit between the overcrowded tourist season and the completely dead off season, Crowley just has no patience.

Cranberry wine is not as common as the story might imply, especially in 1982. Crowley is drinking Truro Vineyard’s Cranberry Red from their Lighthouse Wine Series, which my parents are big fans of (it’s good, if you like red wines), even though that wasn’t available until the late 2000s. Bad historian, no cookie for you.

Thanks to @angel-and-serpent for reminding me about the wolf spiders.

04 - Cranberry (2,600 words)

Crowley sat on the four-poster bed, staring at the phone. The clock beside it clicked from 1:59 PM to 2:00. He tensed…but nothing happened.

Don’t panic. It’s not always exactly the same time. He tried to occupy himself by listing things he disliked about the hotel room.

The lighting room was atrocious, casting everything in a sickly yellow color. Even sitting alone, he wore his glasses to dull the glow a little. The bed was…passably comfortable, the quilt too stiff, the pillows far too flat. The carpet was worn, though only a little. The color scheme was too…green. He’d seen three ants, which might just be a coincidence, or the start of an infestation.

The phone rang, a sharp jangle cutting right across his nerves. 2:03 PM.

He scooped up the handset and said as casually as possible, “Yeah?”

And relaxed, smile drifting across his face that he’d never allow in a face-to-face conversation.

“No, I’m not too busy, Angel. How was your week?”

Slowly, he leaned back on the bed, stretching the coiled cord as far as it would go.

“Really? No. The audacity, coming in and trying to buy a book. What do they think it is, some kind of shop?” He listened another moment. “Aziraphale, I am taking this exactly as seriously as it deserves.”

He listened for a while longer, with an occasional, “Yeah. Yeah.”

“How are my plants?” He frowned. “Perfectly fine? They’re dropping leaves all over the shop, aren’t they?” Rolled his eyes and sat up. “No, I don’t care if it’s November, they know what’s expected of them. I’ve only been gone…” he sighed. “Twenty months.” He was really going to have to re-establish dominance when he got back.

“Nah, I mean, New York was great. Plenty going on there. We should – you should – yeah, I think you’d like it there.” He winced. He sounded pathetic. “Then two days ago, hey, congratulations, now on to the next location. But…I really think someone cocked this one up. No way this is where I’m supposed to be.”

“Dennis.”

He jumped to his feet. “No, not Dennis who, Dennis. It’s a town.” Pacing was difficult in a room this small. He almost immediately became tangled in the phone cord. “I have no idea who names a town ‘Dennis.’” He struggled to free himself without moving the earpiece. “Some bloody tourist place, beaches and sea food, only it’s the off-season.”

He kicked the last bit of cord off his leg – how had that even gotten there? – and flung himself dramatically into the armchair. It wasn’t as good without an audience.

“Now I’m stuck here, nothing to do, until Hell admits they made a mistake. Who knows how long that’s going to be.”

Furious scowl. “No, I’m not being… who even uses the word histrionic? There’s really nothing here. Even the hotel – you’ll never guess. Three stars.” He frowned. “You try it.”

“There is a cranberry bog.” He admitted sullenly. “Lots of spiders. I’m sure there’s something I can do with that.” Pause. “No, I will not behave myself, I’m a demon. And I was told to make trouble, not that there’s any trouble to get into here.”

He sighed. “Haven’t the first idea, they just congratulated me for something to do with politics or the economy.” Crowley pulled off his glasses rubbing at his eyes. “Come on, Aziraphale, you know that’s not how I work. I don’t even understand the economy. Supply-side whatsname, what’s that even mean? But Hell was really happy.” He shuddered. “Ah, I hope I don’t get a commendation. Then I’ll know it’s bad. It’ll be like the Spanish Inquisition all over again. Or the French Revolution.”

He smiled, twisting the cord around his finger. “No, I – you don’t have to. If you want crepes, I’m sure there’s someplace closer.” He laughed. “Yeah, now you mention it, they do still have the death penalty here, but I think you need something more than a bad outfit.”

He was running out of things to say. He tried desperately to think of something, anything. “Uh, any dinner plans?” Nodded. “No, that’s – that sounds good. I wish – I hope you enjoy it.” He knocked his head against the back of his chair. “Got some wine at the airport. ’S alright, I guess.” Nodded again. “Yeah. No, definitely. Talk to you next week.”

Crowley walked back to the bed and dropped the phone into the cradle with another sigh.

--

It was 2:07 PM and Crowley had the phone to his ear before the first ring even finished. “Yeah?”

“Not good, Angel. I spent days getting those wolf spiders to listen to me, and before I could enact my plan, they closed the bog for the season!”

He covered the mouth of the phone and scowled at the half-dozen spiders on his curtain. “Oi, you lot. Back in the planter or you can winter outside with the rest.” He glared until they had settled back among the spiny shrubs with small red blossoms. He would not be telling Aziraphale about his new roommates, or that the best option at the undersized plant shop had been a succulent called crown of thorns.

“No, it was going to be a great plan. All my plans are great.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Well, that worked, didn’t it?”

He groaned and flung himself back onto the green quilt. “Of course I’m still in Dennis, where else would I be? I told them it was probably supposed to be Denver, but does anyone listen to me?” He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “The worst is, they keep congratulating me on all the good work I’m doing.”

“No, Aziraphale, I don’t think they meant the spiders, either.” He picked up a newspaper – an actual, local paper, not one of the ones put out by Hell. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on, but they don’t exactly get the New York Times here.” He flipped through the titles – Cape Cod Chronicle, Provincetown Advocate, The Register. He’d tried to get a few older issues, but everything was from the current month: November, 1982.

“Why would I go to a library?” Pause. “Ohhhhh. Mm, I suppose I can try that if I get desperate.”

Aziraphale asked a question. “Nh, ah, ok. So. Someone wrote this book about this huge secret satanic organization that, I don’t know, controls the world or something. Accused my side of…some stuff.”

He sighed. “If you must know. Torturing and murdering children.” Crowley sat bolt upright. “No, Aziraphale, obviously not. You’d know if it was true.” He picked at the seams of his black jeans. “I suppose you had to ask.”

“Well that’s the thing. We didn’t know anything about it either. So they sent me here to figure out what was going on.”

He flipped through the pages of the newspapers. “Not much, really. All in their heads, right? Didn’t even need to bother stirring it up, these things really take care of themselves. I’ve just been doing my usual, traveling to different cities, causing a little trouble.”

Giving up on the tiny newsprint, Crowley reached for one of the bottles of cranberry wine that the liquor store had had in abundance. “Well, that’s the thing. I can’t find anything in the papers, so that can’t be it.” He poured himself a glass. “Just…you know. Economic stuff. Banks. Taxes. I don’t know.”

He took a drink. “Mh. There was something, can’t find it now. Some men getting sick out in California. Hope it’s not another plague.” He laughed a little. “Hooray penicillin. Honestly, I’m glad to see the end of plagues. Lousy way to do things.”

Aziraphale turned the conversation to lighter things, and for a while Crowley sipped his wine and listened, learning everything going on back in London, what the customers had tried to buy now, and the angel’s dinner plans.

“Oh, you’ll like this. You know what next week is? Thanksgiving.” He poured the last of the bottle into his glass. “It’s like Christmas, only instead of presents, more food. Very American. The hotel’s serving it in the main dining room.” He drained his glass. “Eh, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce. The usual. I probably won’t have any, you know, you’re supposed to celebrate with friends, but – yeah I thought you’d like that.” He smiled at the phone. “I’ll…uh, I’ll talk to you then, right?”

After he hung up, he noticed one of the spiders sitting on the floor next to him. “I thought I told you to stay in the planter.” At least they’d cleared up the ant infestation. He’d have to get some crickets in the morning.

The wolf spider waved hairy legs at him. “Oh, alright.” He let her scramble up his arm and settle on his shoulder. “But no wine for you. That’s all I need, bunch of drunk spiders.”

--

The phone rang at 2:01 PM. Crowley didn’t pick up.

Or at 2:10. Or 2:13.

It was 2:29 PM – long after Aziraphale had lost track of the number of times he’d called and hung up – when Crowley finally knocked the handset out of the cradle. “Wha’?” he demanded, slouched on the floor amid empty bottles of cranberry wine.

“’M celebrating, tha’s what.” The spider on his shoulder scurried down to settle on his knee instead. She was always nearby these days. “Cuz I know what Hell c’gratulated me for.”

He dug around for a bottle that was still half-full, drank straight from its mouth. “Not the economy. Well. Starts with that. Whole time I’m here, people been…losing jobs, banks closing. Did I notice?” He leaned his head against the bed. “No, s’pose not. But people…you know people.”

He nodded, watching the spider jump from one knee to the other. “Satanic Cult story just…keeps growing. Accusations. People in prison. Kids always in the middle. ’S not even real. Just. Panic. And then the other thing.”

He held out his hand, let the spider crawl across his fingers. “Said I was done caring, after the Black Death. You can’t… can’t care, you know? Plague’s gotta run its course.” He hadn’t ever really believed that anyway. “But this is… something new.”

He raised his hand and the spider clambered onto his head. It felt nice, little fuzzy legs combing through his hair. “Dunno. Something with… ’mune system? ’S bad. And…and no one cares. Aren’t studying it. Aren’t talking about it. Cuz of who’s sick.”

He picked up the bottle again, draining it, sweet-tart wine running down his throat. “’S what ’m s’posed to’ve done, y’know. Make ’em turn on each other. Cut off th’ ones who need help. ’S like I did in Spain…and France…”

He leaned his head against his knees, curling up beside the bed in his nest of bottles. “Nnhhh, ’f its nothing to do with me, why do I keep getting credit?”

Crowley couldn’t listen any longer. He let the phone tumble out of his fingers, onto the floor. Aziraphale’s voice grew louder, more insistent, then abruptly cut off.

Of course he’d hang up. Why would anyone want to talk to a demon who –

With a strange hum, something burst out of the phone, materializing in the hotel room very close to where Crowley sat. The pale figure stumbled on the wine bottles, then straightened his tartan bow tie and glared.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, Crowley.”

“I…how’d you…”

“Traveling through the telephone lines. You told me you’d tried it once before.”

“It was awful.”

“Not nearly as awful as your driving.” Aziraphale looked him up and down. “Look at yourself. You’re dressed like some sort of…teenaged ruffian. Why is there a spider in your hair?”

“’S fashion,” Crowley answered vaguely.

The angel leaned down and lifted the wolf spider, being careful not to hurt her legs. He watched the spider run across his palm. “And how long has he been like this?”

“Look, Angel, she just –”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Aziraphale walked away, whispering to the spider. “Really? And you didn’t try to tell him – No, I suppose not. No, you’ve done your best. I’ll take it from here.” He set the spider down among the crown of thorns.

The angel still looked absolutely furious. “You could at least stand up instead of skulking on the floor like that.”

Crowley stumbled and tottered getting to his feet, and it wasn’t only because of the all the empty bottles.  Well, in a way it was.

“Angel, you shouldn’ be here –”

“I should absolutely be here. You’ve been on your own far too long.” He eyed the bottles. “How many of those are from today?”

“Nn. All of ’em. Housekeeping clears them out every morning.”

He tried not to notice the look Aziraphale gave him as the angel snapped his fingers, miracling the bottles into a neat row across the bedside table. “Now sober up.”

“C’mon, Angel, ’m fine.”

“Sober up. I’m not talking to you like this.”

The cranberry wine was a lot less pleasant coming out than it had been going in. And sobriety only made all the emotions he’d been feeling more clear.

Aziraphale watched the liquid pour back into the bottles, and when he was satisfied, jabbed a finger into Crowley’s chest.

“I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. You are not responsible for what the humans do, or believe, or ignore. That is their choice.”

“I know.” He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “I just…how can they be so cruel to each other?”

“Free will.” Aziraphale sat beside him, so close their shoulders just barely brushed. “One day an act of kindness that surprises even me, the next…”

“The next, they leave hundreds of people to die horribly, just because they’re different.” This wasn’t any easier to process sober. “Are you going to tell me this is all part of the Ineffable Plan?”

“Would that make you feel better?”

“Has it ever?”

“Then, no. I think I’ll leave it at that.”

They sat together in silence for a long time.

There really weren’t any words to make it better. Free will or not, Plan or not, sometimes, humans were the absolute worst. He didn’t know why, after six thousand years, it still hurt to learn that.

But it helped to know, from the pressure of one shoulder leaning on another, that at least someone else had never learned to stop caring.

“So, are you going to head back to London?”

“After coming all this way?” Aziraphale had run out of severe looks; he just smiled sadly. “I have a few healings left in my allowance for the year. I think I might…see what I can do out in California.”

Crowley nodded, and for once he was the one on the verge of a forbidden thank you.

“Before you go. I think the Thanksgiving dinner is about to start. I don’t suppose…”

“My dear, I would never turn down a feast.”

The demon quickly stood up, re-settling his glasses, manifesting something a little more sophisticated than the punk-inspired look he’d been wearing.

Aziraphale dug under the bed and found an unopened bottle of cranberry wine. “I’m looking forward to seeing how this tastes. Oh, it looks like a little lighthouse! Lovely.”

Crowley paused at the door. “You’re not going to be all weird and pretend we don’t know each other, are you?”

“I suppose not. Since this is supposed to be a celebration with friends.” He eyed Crowley suspiciously. “Don’t go being overly familiar just because I said that.”

“Me? I would never!”

[deathscythecrow]

Heaven 1.- Love serenade

Once my mother told us that life only gives us five opportunities that we should never waste, so when we see the poster of our favorite movie being screened in the cemetery on that particular day, it is when I knew that I was no longer angry and that there was something very important that I had to do.

Yuira wore an elegant white dress and ran through the gardens of the mansion, with her guitar and her applier in her hands, looking at the tall windows of the residence and counting them to reach a particular one and stopping. After connecting his instrument, he grabs some ground stones and starts throwing them with such force that he almost seemed to break the glass, but he achieved his task when the room light was turned on and someone came out to check, precisely the person he was searching. "Richter!" Yuira exclaims, raising her arm to greet him The vampire watched him cautiously, it seemed unbelievable that the girl who betrayed several times looked for him with such joy, so he only emitted a soft sigh and crossed his arms, trying to appear confident and angry about the sudden interruption with his lover. "What do you want!?" Richter replies, seemingly moody "I came to ask you for a date!" Yuira says, raising some tickets in her hand so she could see them "!!!" Yuira's exclamation baffles the vampire, but tries to regain her proud posture "I won't go!" "What are you talking about ?! It's Sense and Sensibility with Snape!" Yuira insists, happily "His name was Alan Rickman!" Richter clarifies "But in the same way, I won't go!" "Why not?!" "I..!" Richter looks back at him, sidelong "I-I'm busy!" "Say hello to Cordelia from me!" Yuira says, even with confidence "Ask her if i can take you four hours, then I'll pay for them!" "That's not the point! Yuira, just ... just leave!" Richter replies, trying to control himself "Force me!" Yuira says and then shows her guitar "But I'm coming ready! If you don't accept my invitation, I'll sing you a serenade, no, twelve serenades!" "... Why twelve !?" Richter asks, unable to avoid feeling curious "Because!" Yuira clarifies "That makes no sense!" says Richter, unable to smile a little "And if that doesn't convince you, I'll sing one of your poems!" Yuira says, as if she was threatening him, but she still smiled "No, all your poems will sing them all night if I have to!" "... Do you read it ...? Did you read them all?!" Richter exclaims, incredulous "ALL OF THEM! Even those who are porn! I read them and I'll sing them to you, if you don't come down and go out with me!" Yuira exclaims cheerfully "... I can't!" Richter pronounces, unable to avoid becoming distressed "Why not?!" Yuira replies, confused "BECAUSE I BETRAYED YOU, YUIRA! OKAY?!" Richter says, unable to keep his composure "I betrayed you for the same woman over and over again! What you say makes no sense to me! I ... I'm fine like this! I don't need your pity!" "I'm not forgiving you because i pity you!" Yuira clarifies "Then why?!" Richter replies, frustrated "Its because I love you and that's why I forgive you!" Richter froze for a moment, trying to process what young Yuira had just said; the exorcist notices that and with some seriousness, takes a few steps while still seeing him. "I love you, Richter!" says Yuira, with confidence "That's why I forgive you, because I love you and I am envious of the way you are in love with Cordelia, that's why I always notice where you always are and why, I can read all your poems and feel that I ate like three rice dishes to be happy for a whole week; you're the lyrics of my love songs and that's why I want to go out with you tonight! " The vampire observes him in total disbelief as the girl observed him, his mouth was open, but without saying a word and he felt like inside him, a strong feeling of crying was filling him and he was about to break for the happiness; when someone kicked him in the back, causing him to fall from the window. "Waaaa! Richter!" Yuira exclaims, dropping her guitar to help the vampire on the floor "Could you stop screaming for a while ?! There are people who are busy! You know !?" exclaims Cordelia, from the window "C-cordelia ?!" Richter says, recovering and turning to see her, confused "Just leave at once! I've had enough with your boring melodrama!" says Cordelia, smiling "But...!" pronounce Richter "Are you replicating me ?!" Cordelia hisses "Or are you trying to put another pretext that you think I don't notice ?!" "!!!" "Cordelia, I owe you one! I already knew you had your softy heart, after all!" Yuira says, raising her arm and raising her thumb "You wish! Now you owe me one and i charge you the double for this!" says Cordelia, confident "Likewise, thanks!" Cordelia smiles proudly and closes the windows. "Y-yuira-sama" Richter mutters, getting up a little to stayar kneeling and staring at the floor with some sorrow "This ... what you just said ..." "Mh? It's the truth," Yuira replies, smiling "!!! ... I ... I ..." Richter's face begins to turn red "I just ... I ..." "Is it really surprising to follow, that I love you?" Yuira asks, somewhat surprised "Obviously!" Richter exclaims, without hiding his surprise and looks down again! "Since, this ...! This is too good ... and well ... I ... had already given up ... after what I did ... I was sure you hated me ... " "I love you, Richter" Yuira says again with a smile, making the vampire, turn to see her "But I ... I'm not loyal to you, I'm weak, old, gloomy, I don't have any talent and I'm sure there are other people who are more dignified," Richter mutters, almost dragging his words. "Hahahaha, what are you saying? Look at me! I'm dressed like a Victorian girl almost in the middle of the street to confess my love; I'm a disaster, I don't think twice about doing things and I get into a lot of problems ... besides ... "Yuira takes the hand of the vampire, who is a little surprised to feel that she trembled a little" Although I did not look it, I was very scared that you said no". "Yuira-sama ..." Richter mutters, looking at the young woman, rapt "How to say it ... it was like in the movie, you know?" Yuira clears her throat "How was it? I convinced myself that I felt friendship and thought it was only my heart that was at risk ... and then ..." "..." Richter captures what Yuira wanted to recite and smiles "I came here without expectations and to profess you now that I have the freedom to do so ..." "That my heart is ... and will always be ... yours ..."Richter and Yuira finish pronouncing the phrase at the same time, they look each other for a moment with a big smile on their faces, bumping their foreheads and in an instant they close their eyes, in order to finally be able to surrender with their kisses; impatient and almost in tears, the vampire raised his arms to hug the girl tightly, while he got up and turned with her, in a soft and loving dance, where finally the lovers emitted small laughs of joy.

[hibiki-the-beast-archived]

All of the nsfw asks, kitten. Because I want to know everything~ -your lately absent tiger

1:When did you lose your virginity?Mh, I don't have any memories left of this event. But when it comes to the anal virginity: I lost it just only around a year and a half ago.

2: Rough sex or soft sex?Rough is my preference in general and what I am in the mood for most of the time, although if feelings are included I believe a soft vanilla session can make me purr as well. However, when my part is the dominant one I so far can only imagine me being very rough.

3: Do you have any unusual kinks/fetishes?If menophilia and even pet play are not unusual then I don't know. So I say yes to this.

4: Weirdest place you’ve had sex?In the woods perhaps.

5: Favourite sex position?Sounds actually boring, but I like missionary. Second favorite is doggy style though.

6: Do you like to be dominant or submissive?This is a question that is not as easy to answer for me as it may seem. Technically I have tendencies to both sides, but my dominant side is very rough and linked to the creature lurking inside of me which I have troubles keeping the upper hand over. That is the reason why I am more comfortable to be submissive. Back then I had the feeling I had the need to be submissive because I wanted to punish myself for the bad things I do while my inner beast has the power, but lately I think it is just what I am and only a facet I needed to get to know. However, if I feel comfortable with someone and I know the person adores my dominant side while knowing how to lure it I might show it to them.

7: Have you ever had any one night stands?For the sake of my inner beast that likes to stimulate itself sexually while feeding, yes, of course. Apart from that not really. I am not the kind of type who goes to a club, gets drunk and drags someone off. This kind of sex is never worth it I think.

8: Sex on the bed, couch or the floor?Couch and floor are rather uncomfortable places so I definitely prefer the bed. But being creative when it comes to places for mating sessions is appreciated as well.

9: Have you ever had sex in a public place?The forest is a public place, so yes. But I have happened to engulf a fan behind the concert location as well. And once I even had it in a church.

10: Have you ever been caught masturbating?No.

11: What does your favourite sexy underwear look like?I don't have a thing for lingerie on others and neither did I wear something fancy myself yet, but I would cherish everything my partner would enjoy to see on me. Something made out of leather would perhaps be pleasant to wear.

12: How often do you have sex?Sometimes almost every day, sometimes just twice a month I think, at least lately. There had been many months during which I was not sexually active at all. I have never paid attention to the duration of the abstinence though, but fact is it is mostly too seldom for my high libido, mhmh.

13: Is there anybody right now you’d like to have sex with?Two persons, to be exact.

14: Do you prefer giving or receiving oral sex?This is easy: Giving.

15: Most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you during sex?Perhaps not getting an erection or losing it. My libido may be high, but when I get involved with a person thanks to my blood lust that may be an easy prey to satisfy my hunger I tend to get turned off by their passivity. As I always say, a prey that does not moves is a dead prey. And since I only have hetero phases every now and then I might get limp around women, too.

16: A song you’d listen to during hard/rough/kinky sex?Easy as well: Blood Honey and Pistol Whipped from Marilyn Manson

17: A song you’d listen to during soft/slow/passionate sex?The only thing that comes to my mind is Aphrodisia from Nocturnal Bloodlust.

18: Are you into dressing up for sex?I think so. As above, I would like to wear everything my partner enjoys seeing on me, even if I may react embarrassed beforehand. This should not stop them from making me wear the things they think as fitting for me.

19: Would you prefer sex in the bath or sex in the shower?In the bath tub? I am water-shy actually, but as soon as I overcome it I really enjoy this element. Bathing with someone sounds fabulous. In the shower things might become even more uncomfortable than in a tiny bath tub.

20: If you could have sex with anyone right now, who would it be?Hazuki or Hiro probably. But with Aki I have lots of fun as well usually.

21: Have you ever had a threesome? If not, would you?This is a topic I lately discussed, and right at this time I saw a wonderful threesome in a manga as well. Yes, I want to experience a threesome one day. Perhaps as a switch with a dominant and a submissive or as a submissive for two men. Both would have its charms, but it is hard to accomplish something like this, isn't it?

22: Do you/would you use sex toys?I do, although I don't masturbate often. With a partner I have more fun using them.

23: Have you ever sent someone a dirty text/picture?Dirty texts for sure in one way or another, but to get me to send a dirty picture I need to be really desperate, thus being in mating season. Instead there had been a poster of me shirtless in an old German magazine, I consider this definitely more erotic than any bad amateurish picture I shot with my phone camera. Yes, maybe I would do an erotic photo shooting for someone special. Mh, now I have ideas.

24: Would you have sex with your best friend?There is not much better than being friends with benefits I suppose.

25: Is there anything you do after sex? (for example, smoke, eat, drink)I may relax, I may smoke, I may be in need for aftercare...there are many possibilities. Sometimes I have the strong need to listen to music after I had an orgasm. It just depends.

26: Something that will never fail to get you horny?A person who knows how to talk dirty.

27: Early morning sex or late night sex?At night I am usually the most active and vivid feeling, so I prefer the latter. But everything can has its charms. The former may be only turning into a wonderful thing to do with a person I am very close to in an emotional way.

28: Favourite body part on the opposite sex?I don't really have one. But lately I happened to find rather small boobs as appealing. However, I like lips, too. Probably I don't even mean the ones in the face...

29: Favourite body part on the same sex?Hands. Arms in general. What I am talking about, I in fact adore genitals.

30: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:Probably some gay Manga. I mean, I might tell people about it, but I don't want them to find them on accident, just like certain sex toys.

31: Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you:I once had sex while wearing a chastity cage, maybe this was the weirdest so far.

32: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]I have done so and I don't think of it as a bad thing. It is just a body fluid. I would like to lick it off somewhere as a degrading act as well.

33: Is it ever okay to not use a condom:Probably it is not advisable in most cases, but I can't remember ever using a condom.

34: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience:Blood is a food, right? I could think of honey as interesting, but in general I doubt it is necessary to play around with any food.

35: Worst possible time to get horny:Before a gig perhaps. Or while having a music video shooting. Or while standing on stage.

36: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans?I enjoy every feral noise they may utter.

37: How much fapping is too much fapping:When it begins to hurt it probably has been too much. But I think three times a day should be the limit, at least for me.

38: Best sexual complement you ever got:Have I ever gotten one? However I know there are at least two people who like getting intimate with me and can compete with my sexual deviance.

39: Favorite foreplay activities:To be honest, foreplay and teasing are considered to be the most important parts of sex for me. If someone is very good at dirty talking they barely need to do something else to get me in the mood though. But I enjoy to get my nipples sucked as well...not to mention how much it would make me melt if I got my feet played with or even my toes sucked. Mhmh. In exchange I suck your fingers, this seduces me, too. However, a physical fight can be foreplay for me as well. Or a bath. And from a dominant's point of view I enjoy a really bratty attitude.

40: What do you wear to bed?Most of the time underwear and a shirt, sometimes just underwear and for very rare occasions I have a pajama...in which I look very cute!

41: When was the first time you masturbated:I really can't recall this.

42: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?I don't think I would be able to record this myself, but that does not mean I would not allow someone else to do this...

43: Have you ever/when was the last time you had sex outside?Three months ago probably?

44: Have/would you ever have sex in public?How often will this question appear in here? Yes, I had sex in public and I would do it again, especially when it takes place in mother nature's lap or in an old building.

45: Have/would you ever had a threesome?Already answered above I suppose.

46: What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate?Pillow.

47: Do you watch gay/lesbian porn? why/why not?I did this so seldom that it is almost not worth mentioning. Pornography is not able to fulfill my needs, first because I am not that voyeuristic and second because I most of the time need an emotional connection to the person I get sexually involved with. Looking at strangers performing those things is not really appealing to me. However there are - a very few - manga I enjoy to read.

48: Do you like oral sex? (why/why not)Everything I can use my tongue and mouth to is a big turn on to me. So I like it very much naturally. As for receiving, I prefer rimjobs over blowjobs. Any anal stimulation is a bliss to me.

49: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?I have a really big foible for men with tattoos. Although I enjoy piercings as well not only because they look fabulous but because my skin reacts very sensitive to metal - but in a good way. But coming back to tattoos, I perhaps would get turned off if my partner had some really weird/childish tattoos or the face of their grandpa on their arm or wherever.

50: How would you feel about taking someones virginity?My inner beast would not care for sure, but in general I don't expect me to be the right person to lose your virginity to. It would not turn out as pleasing for the both of us probably. I have high standards and need someone with experience. I don't have a special foible for it just like some others may perhaps have.

51: Is there any food you would NOT recommend using during a sexual encounter?I don't have experience with human food in a sexual way, but I suppose most food will make a complete mess in a way I would not enjoy.

52: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute?A private pornstar for a special person. A year ago I would have probably agreed to take money for sex, but not anymore.

53: Do you watch porn?Same as above.

54: Have you ever been called a freak? Why?The fans of my former band had been called 'Freaks', so...yes, I am almost sure I have been called a freak. I mean, there could be worse descriptions for me. In fact it is a name I would wear with pride, mhmh. I like to be odd and deviant.

55: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”?If the fabric of my pants is soft enough I might be okay with it in situations where it does not matter that much.

56: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?Not at all. I tend to stay unshaved as well most of the time, especially when I aim to get the dominant part. As a submissive I enjoy to be all smooth so chances are higher I will receive my rimjob...

57: If you could give yourself head, would you?Probably yes.

58: Booty or Boobs?Booty.

59: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?)No. I never had been in a monogamous relationship and always make clear if I get involved with someone I would like to get intimate with others, too.

60: If you were the other sex for a day, what are five things you would do?I always had been thinking about how it would be like to have a vagina, perhaps it would convey a completely other feeling of being submissive for me. And since I enjoy to get treated like a female in sexual matters I probably would like to get bred all day long. Better stop it here until I begin to like this thought too much. Because well, I would be able to wear my tail plug during the intercourse, how could I not like this imagination?

61: have you ever watched someone masturbate?Probably not. It would be a good way to make me all greedy in a submissive way though.

62: has anyone ever watched you masturbate?No, but I would really, really enjoy this...especially when the one watching me keeps a very unfazed expression while talking dirty to me...

63. Have you ever had an erection and someone noticed?I can't remember this ever happened.

64. What is your method of masturbation? (ie. toys, clitorial, prostate)Laying on stomach, thrusting into pillow or fleshlight, but anal/prostate stimulation is essential meanwhile, either with a toy or with fingers.

65. What is your bra/penis size?I am not really flat-chested, an a-cup would fit me for sure. And measuring my penis for this questionnaire is just degrading. Let us say it is 11,5 cm while being erected. You can't expect a tiny beast to have a huge cock.

66. What is the strangest thing you have ever put up your vagina/anus?There is actually nothing too unusual I can remember.

67. When was the last time you masturbated?Four or five days ago.

68. When was the last time you had sex?A week ago perhaps.

69. When was the last time you watched porn?Maybe last year.

70. Have you ever bought a sex toy? If so, which one did you buy last? First sex toy? If not, which one do you plan on buying when you do?The last I bought online was a prostate vibrator, I think I have enough now for being satisfied with my masturbation experience. My first one was the fleshlight, I bought it before I discovered I am absolutely keen on anal stimulation.

71. Guys:Circumsized?No.

72. Which not-genital part of your body do you like being touched?Feet, neck, head.

73. Which genital part of your body do you like being touched?Everything, but butt is always the first choice.

74. Girls:Are you able to achieve orgasm just through breast stimulation?Who says you need to be a girl to be able to do this? I would like to try out if my nipples are sensitive enough.

75. Have you anonymously sent a sexual ask to someone on tumblr?Yes, just lately, but it was someone I am close to. Before I may have done so as well, but it is nothing I regularly do.

76. When was the last time you have had a wet dream?It must have been a while. Maybe I just can't remember. But when I don't orgasm for a week I may release in my sleep during a wet dream.

77. Which wet dream was your favorite?I was on a hunt in the forest and found a man who at first wanted to shoot me because he thought I was a dangerous creature, but I held my naked butt in front of the barrel instead. The thrill of the whole situation was intense and arousing, however I got what I needed thanks to my clear way of 'telling'...

78. Is there a friend you would willingly have sex with?I think I had already sex with those I more or less would consider as friend.

79. Is there a celebrity/character you would willingly have sex with?Atsushi Sakurai perhaps...there are some musicians from bands who are active since the eighties or nineties who are handsome, and those are the ones who are celebrities in my eyes as they are my idols in some way.

80. Favorite sexual position? Didn't I already answer this? Missionary, probably while I am tied up.

81. Do you like being called a slut or whore in bed?No need to even ask this question actually. It drives me crazy.

82. Are you into any BDSM?Obviously.

83. Have you ever wanted to have sex with someone but knew you couldnt for any reason? Why?For sure. Well, I sometimes spot a person who is handsome and interesting enough, but approaching others is not easy so nothing will happen in the end (especially because I almost never get approached). And if a talk should come about it often does not lead to a sexual direction immediately because things like this need time and a certain chemistry. But to be honest, sometimes I am just too much of a pussy to open up my mouth. So I actually like people who have the courage to get something started.

84. Do you like dirty talk?And how!

85. Are you loud or quiet during sex? Masturbation?Loud. Even during masturbation I sometimes, when I am especially in heat, have the need to be loud. To some amount my own noises arouse me even, especially because I sound very submissive, whining and whimpering. Occasionally I suck my fingers while doing it because I enjoy the noises it makes.

86. Have you ever been inturrepted during sex or masturbation? Who/what?By the telephone ringing, for example. Or by the postman. Or by bandmembers stepping into the backstage room...

87. What kind of porn do you like to watch?None.

88. Have you ever confessed to someone that you got an erection over them? What about masturbated to them?I don't think I would go to a handsome stranger and directly tell them those things. I rather keep it to myself that I have done something like that, even if I know the person better. I would feel pathetic if I told them straightly.

89. Have you ever masturbated because your sexual partner wasn’t there when you needed them?This is the most likely reason for me to start masturbating, so yes.

90. Have you ever had a one night stand? Do you still keep in contact with them?I don't think so. However, if I had an one night stand and it had been satisfying I would definitely try to stay in contact with them and try to become friends.

91. Have you ever had a friends with benefits? Are they still beneficial?I more or less have something like this, and yes, the naughty fun continues...

As soon as I am not feeling this mentally drained anymore the kitten will transform into a horrible beast and insists on sharping its claws on your back to abreact, tiger...you can call yourself lucky I am immortal so it is not /that/ bad that I have needed three hours of my precious life to get tortured by this questionnaire. At least you could brew me a coffee once you dare to come around again. I am waiting for you...

[gayfrenchtoast]

It was fathers day yesterday

I guess in some places rn it still is

A few weeks ago I told my dad to fuck off. I couldn't take dealing with him anymore, pretending that I liked him and I was fine, for what? His sake? His feelings? Self preservation?

I think the main reason was to be able to see my siblings, be allowed to go up there and see them, but since they've moved I've done that what, once? Because of covid, because they're so far away, because his Fiance hates me for something I didn't do, because I don't want to see him. In a way its fucking incredible that he didn't realise that the problem was him at all until I told him. Though in a way it's also not because he only ever sees what he wants to see. He saw everything was fine, that he had done no wrong, and I saw my life laud out in trauma made by him. He's a fucking asshole and the worst part is he will never see himself that way. His only "flaw" to himself will ever be that he's "too good".

So I decided that the ability to go see my siblings wasn't worth it, because it was just me leaving the door ajar for him to reach in. I decided that sacrificing that would be better for me and maybe, hopefully, would trigger a change that would make life better for my siblings if he knew what he did. I wasn't prepared like I'd wished to be when the moment arrived, he'd called me because I when he dropped my sister off at mh mothers' (where I live currently) I didn't want to talk to him and pretend it was all okay. I decided as soon as I saw him I was gonna start resisting him, not coming at his call and not pretending everything was okay. But the simple act of not wanting to talk to him that day, not pretending, started him asking, poking, he wouldn't take "I don't want to talk to you right now" and after he left he called me, he claimed he wasn't trying to get anything like a confrontation ect but then why did he call asking so adamantly for information? I tried lying to him, telling him I just missed my siblings as my anxiety and dissociation built up, but he just kept pushing until I finally said "it's you. You're the problem." I can barely most of the exact words around that time but I remember telling him it was him so vividly. He then started pushing on that. Asking stuff like "what did I do to you" and I started, while shaking, telling him how he treated me

Then his phone died

And I realised, over phone, hearing his voice, my anxiety and dissociation set off because of it, he had power over me. He could manipulate me in real time while I was in a fragile state because of him, weather he realised it or not. He had pushed me into this before I was ready, so from there on out it was going to be on my terms.

So I texted him, I texted him as vilify as I could explaining myself, he texted my sister to call him using his finace's phone, I took her phone and texted him saying I was texting him and wasn't going to call him. He called me using his finance's phone and I didnt pick up. He called me when his phone got charge, I didn't pick up. All while writing out a message like is said I would. He texted me telling me "he would appreciate me talking to him because I left him wondering what he'd done" as if I hadn't already told him I was messaging him. Finally, finally, I sent the long message off with a small niggling of satisfaction and hope.

The next day he responded. Telling me he was "just trying to be tge best dad he could, he wasn't looking to confront me and its not his fault because kids don't come with a manual! Oh - I've loved you since the day you were born Nd I ditn understand why you think I'm a bad parent!" Like I hadn't already told him in the last message which gave me the hint he wasn't really listening to me "oh what should I do next?"

Well I told him that calling me and pushing me like that was confrontation but go on, you can have a little leniency, it wasn't just because you were confronting me, but because I'm tired of dealing with you and you continuing your shitty ways! In responce to him asking me what he should do next I told him he should probably try therapy and it wasn't my job to walk him through being a good dad. Which I really hoped would get through to him and offer him a chance to get help. How foolish I was. I then gave him not one but two examples of how he'd been a shit dad and hurt me in the past, in a good bit of detail, and then told him I'd like to go low contact and that I hope for a better life for my siblings now he knows.

Now I have been keeping it civil this whole time, I haven't sworn at him, I haven't been sarky, I haven't antagonised him, I have been all around trying to just talk with him, be honest and give actually good information to him in hoped of making him better and more knowledgeable about how he is in hopes of changing him for the better to give my siblings a better life. I have been giving a dramatic, cathartic re-telling of the texts up to this point but I have decided that I cannot encapsulate the amount of absolute bullshit that was sent to me the next day in my own words. So will be a direct copy paste of his message with names censored, any changes I I made or notes added on for context will be in red;

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

(Me), what has (sister) told you about life here?

I think I am as understanding as I can be around the kids and when they get told off it's in proportion to the offence they caused. It is important that children learn boundaries.

Our children are happy and certainly do not think I'm the monster you do.

It seems you see the situation is so serious I need therapy.

I think perhaps this is the other way round and you need to seek help to address your mental health problems. Your recollections appear to differ from mine, as does your interpretation of my motivations as a parent.

I'm sorry you feel this way. Many children have a hard time at home and do suffer abuse. You were not one of them. Between your mother, grandparents and I you were always (and remain) a much loved child.

If I've been annoyed with you it has only because I want the best for you.

As my first child I had to learn a lot with you but I know you were a happy child who was glad to see me when I picked you up from school and when we played or when I read a bedtime story.

Perhaps our divorce was more of a plausible reason.

I also think it is unfair for you to create all of this and then run away and not speak.

You did this over the cannabis issue, although your actions led to far reaching consequences you didn't care and wouldn't talk about it. You couldn't even apologise; which if you had would have put relationships on an even keel to rebuild. (The "cannabis issue" is a whole other situation but basically his finace's daughter told her mum that I asked her for weed after I'd been in the room when she got a call from someone asking her for weed and his fonace then blamed me when she "got back into drugs". If more elaboration is needed I will make a whole other post)

You can't do this and then refuse to speak, leaving everyone wondering.

I can only respect your request for low contact as you call it, but I love you and always will.

I would prefer if we could rebuild our relationship. I think you are dwelling on the bad times too much and ascribing too much meaning to events I don't recall the same way. It must be difficult only listening to the household you live in.

I have always tried my hardest for all my children and I hope I always will. Does it mean nothing, all the work I have done for you? I have tried to be a good example of a parent and give you, (sister), (little step brother) and (baby brother) what I think you need to go forwards in life in the real world.

I've known you are feeling strange to me for a while but I'm still doing my best to be a good dad.

I have never sought to hurt you (me). I have always thought about how I compared to my father, a good dad. I have not been as strict with or shouted at my children the way I was shouted at. I have been proud of that.

When I've been strict it's because I thought it was to teach you boundaries. When I've been stressed I have shouted. Being a parent is stressful. Being one who really cares is really stressful.

I don't want to become a stranger (me). I know you feel more comfortable with your mum than me and my family. I accept that.

We are different but I have always supported and helped when I could. I have sought to protect you from harm and prepared you to be an adult.

Please don't let the past dominate your feelings for the present. For your sake, find happiness in the here and now. If you have anxiety and depression it will be your choice to recover. If keeping me away will help it's up to you, but I am here when you want me.

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

So I feel like that speaks for itself, however I am worried that I may hit the charecter limit soon so if it doesn't you can see my, very long, reponce in part 2

If you are wondering why I am doing this and posting it to tumblr, half of it is cathartic and the other half is for record and posterity.

[thelocalrebel]

set in the local context!

Whenever someone mentions IMH, a common reaction is to bring up the "famed" electric shock therapy - i.e. electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) - or how the institution mistreats its patients. However, that's a gross misunderstanding. While the mental health sector in general isn't free from ableism and general assholery against those with mental illnesses, there are some deeply damaging misconceptions that discourage undecided people from seeking help. This short writeup hopes to dispel such myths.

Misconception 1: IMH is the only place to get help.

Wrong. To get help for mental health concerns, you can go to any mental health service provider - and that includes general hospitals (e.g. IMH, NUH), community health providers (think CHAT or SAMH), as well as Family Service Centres (FSCs). This is because the medical model isn't the only way to seek help.

While only psychiatrists are allowed to prescribe medicines or diagnose people due to their medical training, counsellors and social workers are also trained in therapeutic techniques used in psychotherapy. Think therapies like Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy (CBT) - a global favourite - to more humanistic ones like Person-Centred Therapy, coined by Carl Rogers. The techniques used will depend on the severity of your concerns, the suitability of the technique in resolving them, as well as the proficiency of the professional involved. As a general rule, all techniques aim to help you cope better with your needs, such that you can live as best as you can.

Still, think of counsellors (or any other social service professional) as a stopgap measure especially if medical procedures are required - while they will help you to the best of their abilities, once they feel out of their depth, they will refer you to someone who can serve you better. Trust in the ethical standards of the profession, at least.

Misconception 2: Pills are the only way to "cure" mental illnesses.

Wrong. Sometimes, you can get by only with psychotherapy (or in layman terms, talk therapy) with no substances involved! To understand this further, we need to dissect how mental illness is managed by the mental health sector.

Generally, three solutions are used - talk therapy, pharmacology, and other procedures. Such procedures include the infamous Electro-Convulsive Therapy (ECT), Repetitive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (rTMS), and Eye-Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing (EMDR). Don't mind the mouthful - sounds painful, but thanks to modern medicine and strict ethical standards, anaesthesia ensures that procedures done are painless, or at least, pain is minimised - if they are physical. (Since EMDR doesn't involve applying things to the client, it's not "invasive" like ECT or rTMS, where electric pulses and magnetic waves respectively are administered). However, such usually procedures are done only as a last resort AND with consent of the client. Meaning, only if the person wants to, and if their illness is so severe that everything else doesn’t work. Plus, they work.

Moving to the more common methods of help. Pills are self-explanatory: you take them to help your brain and body secrete or stop producing hormones to make one feel better. That's what they mean by "if you can't produce serotonin (the chemical that regulates mood), store-bought is fine". But again, pills come with side-effects, costs, and a whole bunch of problems (e.g. uncontrollable weight gain for bipolar meds) such that they're mostly given together with talk therapy, if they even are, to manage resultant problems and ensure adherence to medication. Plus, pills can be expensive.

So for more sustainable change, talk therapy is utilised - be it in the form of one-on-one therapy, or group therapy. This is because talk therapy often involves teaching skills, changing thought patterns, identifying developmental experiences that still affect you today, and/or developing suitable coping mechanisms that you can use even after stopping therapy - because the aim of therapy is to teach you how to live again, using and in the safe environment of the therapeutic relationship with the therapist, or other group members. However, the exact method of helping depends on what approaches the therapist uses, as well as your needs. For example, CBT involves cognitive restructuring - a fancy name for a technique that helps one reframe negative thinking patterns into less distressing ones. A worksheet used to facilitate this is a thoughts record, pictured below.

Fig. 1: A filled-In one. Templates are rife on the net (src)

Logs like this help with identifying and modifying automatic thoughts that lead to emotional and behavioural distress, since the premise of CBT lies in the interrelatedness of thoughts-behaviours-emotions. Change one, and change the rest. Sounds fake, but from personal experience, it helps. (But if it doesn’t, it's normal. That’s why therapists mix-n-match approaches if needed).

What we love about talk therapy is that you can DIY it! just search up the relevant theories and you'll find resources online, if you don’t want to use physical (work)books. But as usual, it will help if you went through it with a mental health professional - they can explain it to you, and encourage you every step of the way. (See the end for some common helping approaches)

However, we raise issue with the idea of "curing" MI. Because if to cure means to reinstate one's original state before the illness, then that's simply impossible. Therapy can't cure MI, but it can help you recover - by being able to live in spite and despite your MI, in a way that you're happy with. In other words, MI irrevocably changes you and stays with you, but that doesn't stop you from dealing with it in a better way.

Misconception 3: The whole system is ableist and inherently harmful

It’s one thing to be cynical towards recovery because you don’t want to get better, and it’s another to be cynical because nothing’s working despite one’s best efforts and the most you can do is to just...cope. Yes, medication and techniques don’t always work, nor is it accessible to all. Plus, what constitutes “recovery” differs from person to person. So! It’s one thing to vent about your struggles, and another to actively undermine someone else’s efforts at recovery. Derailing with “we can’t all be neurotypical, karen” is not the way to do that.

While being self-deprecatory is a coping mechanism in itself, there comes a point when we have to ask ourselves - do we want to recover? It’s understandable how sometimes, we resist recovery because if we don’t, how do we know our suffering was valid? It’s understandable because since we’ve lived with it so long, it has seemingly become part of our personality - like neurodivergent people, those with personality disorders, or complex PTSD. Where does our illness stop, and ourselves begin? Yet, as before, we have to ask ourselves: does it always have to be like this?

(Again, this wades into the “good/bad survivor” discourse which we won’t touch, but really. Some things to think about.)

Plus, contrary to popular opinion, most in the helping professions do want to help you, just that their human failings and structural causes can hamper their efforts. Thus, there are bad eggs and there are botched systemic practices and values, but don’t let that discredit the entire therapeutic enterprise and the methods used.

So there are justified criticisms of the MH sector, like the DSM not recognising Complex PTSD despite calls by mental health professionals to do so, as well as the over-medication of people with MI due to the industry's close ties with the pharmaceutical industry. Or for professionals themselves, with personal experience and anecdotes from friends who’ve faced unsupportive psychiatrists, counsellors, nurses, and other staff who’ve only heightened their distress in the midst of seeking help; dismissing their struggles, or undermining their motivation and self-worth with hurtful words. Maybe even the discourses on mental health, such as oversimplifying ideas in the name of marketing and perhaps convenience (see our thoughts on IMH’s campaign posters). Yes, they’re all valid points.

But they’re representative of the greater societal stigma towards mental health and illnesses. It doesn’t absolve such professionals who should know better, yeah, but at the same time, perhaps it’s better to understand that not all professionals are like this. And if they are, shame on them for not being what their ethical codes and values expect them to be.  

To end, we reiterate: this article was written not to diss on coping mechanisms or undermine bad experiences with the MH sector, but to encourage people to seek help, if possible, where needed. Yes, the internet can be a big help if you DIY therapy, like by inhaling copious amounts of self-help books from the library (ask us if you want book recs), but maybe a professional’s help might help you cope better with your struggles. It obviously won’t be easy, but it’s a shot.

We just want everyone who’s struggling right now to be alright. You deserve better than just suffering in silence.  

Any more misconceptions you want answered? DM or send us an ask and we’ll add on to this write-up.

A/N: This was written as a result of conversations with mental health and social work professionals, the author's first-hand experience in a social service agency during their field placement, and their social work education. However, if there are errors, do let us know. Misinformation is the last thing we want.

Additional Notes:

Psychotherapy and Counselling greatly overlap, but a key difference in how/where they view the origin on the problem. For one, psychotherapists see pathology as originating from the person, while counselling doesn't. Here's a page that says more.  

Counsellors and social workers are similar but not the same - social workers engage in counselling sometimes if they have training, but counsellors (who are strictly trained in counselling) cannot do what social workers do, like case management and community work. However, what counsellors and social workers share is the collaborative nature of their relationship with their clients which eschews power inequalities, while the medical background of psychotherapists/psychiatrists allow them to maintain an “expert position” over their clients.

Some Counselling/Psychotherapy Approaches:

Psychodynamic Therapy

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT)

Rational Emotive Behavioural Therapy (REBT)

Dialectical Behavioural Therapy (DBT)

Person-Centred Therapy

Motivational Interviewing (MI)

[shadesumbra]

Chapter 11

It had been a month ago when he read about it in the newspaper. Bruce Wayne bought three first edition books worth one million each.

Three books he didn't have in his collection.

Of course he couldn’t go after them right away, as much as he wanted to. He had to wait until the buzz settled down and the spotlight was somewhere far different. Now, one month after the books were purchased, and the news now focused on Superman’s latest battle, he would strike.

Metaphorically speaking, actually striking would probably cause some damage to the books.

It was past midnight as Shade stands at the Wayne manor gates. From the darkness his eyes scan the grounds. By the looks of it, most everyone was asleep, or at least in their room. He knew kids didn’t go to bed on time. The only lights that were on were minor lights on the upper floors of the mansion. Perfect.

He whisks himself through the shadows inside to the foyer. Going straight into the library could risk him getting caught. His footsteps were silent as he walks into the library, and really, he has to take a moment to appreciate it all. Bruce Wayne may be an air-headed dolt, but he knew how to collect. Shade ran his hand gently over the spines of some of the nearby books. They’re in practically perfect condition.

Kudos Wayne. Give credit where credit is due.

Eventually he makes his way over to where the newest first editions are. A small smile comes across his face. They are beautiful. His shadows pick the lock and open the glass case.

However, just as he reaches in a fire poker blocks his hand.

“Most cat burglars around here tend to dress the part sir.”

Shade’s attention was instantly drawn to the person who had blocked him.

Ah, the butler. This he wasn’t expecting. An easy problem to fix.

Though…

“Oh. So you want a joust?” He lifted his cane in a an offensive pose, as if daring the other man to strike.

And he did.

It was quick and precise, but Shade was quick to defend. And then it was his turn. He made a quick strike, which his opponent was just as quick to defend. Even in the man’s old age, he was still quick with his movements. Quicker than what Shade was expecting from someone this man’s age. With age comes experience he supposed.

A smile crept onto Shade’s face. Oh, he could definitely have fun with this.

The two made their way around the room. The attacks becoming more and more advanced and the maneuvers more complicated. For the first time in a long while, Shade was having the time of his life. And he couldn’t help himself, he was grinning like an idiot because of it. And even though he knew the other man was just protecting property, he could see the faint, wry smile on the other man as well.

The two continued for a little while long, and Shade briefly wondered why no one else had come down to check on what was going on. Especially with all the noise they were making. They were all probably out, Wayne was a party boy. He wouldn’t doubt that all Wayne’s kids were too.  

He was pulled out of his thoughts when his opponent bumped into a nearby side table, the vase falling to the floor. The man reached for it, bit just barely missed grabbing it. Shade’s hand shot out before he really knew what he was doing and his shadows saved the pottery.

He brought it to him. “I should keep this, just as a thank you for saving it.”

“I think not.”

Shade laughed and the man gently took it from Shade’s arms and put it back into its place.

“I can see that this is getting either of us nowhere, so may I suggest we talk it over with a cup of tea?” The man suggested.

Shade didn’t think his smile could get any wider. Oh but he was wrong. “I’d love to.”

The man led Shade down to the kitchen, and he quickly put a kettle on the stove.

“So is there any particular reason why you skipped over hundreds of priceless books for three first editions?”

“Simple. I don’t have them.”

“Oh, and I suppose breaking in and stealing them from a highly guarded billionaire is the easiest way to get them?”

“It is when you’re a criminal.”

The man let out a small laugh. “There’s a vendor who goes by the name of Penskili who makes it his business to find and restore old books. It would be much easier to talk to him.”

The kettle began to whistle and the man wasted no time in getting the tea ready. He was about to pour the two cups when Shade interjected.

“I’d prefer to make my own if that’s okay.”

The man nodded, leaving the teapot and milk on the counter for Shade. He watched as Shade poured in the milk first, then the tea.

“That’s a very old fashioned way to prepare your tea, I’d say you were trying too hard if it were my place.”

“I suppose it is your place to say it, considering I’m still technically breaking and entering. Though, old habits die hard,” he took a sip. Oolong, and expensive too.

“Oh? And when did you develop such old fashioned habits?”

“It was common place as a child as to not break the cup.”

“Heavens, you must of grown up with quite frail crockery.”

Shade let out a “mh” as he took a sip. “So, do I get the pleasure of a name, or do I just call you ‘Butler’?”

“Alfred, and how about you?”

“Shade.”

“Ah, so I don’t get the honor of your actual name.”

“Very few people get that honor.”

“I suppose for a criminal, that is fair.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence while they drank their tea. This was the last thing Shade had expected when he had come to Wayne manor to steal those first editions. Oh but he was having such a delightful time. He supposed he could leave these copies. He made a mental note to find Penskili at a later date.

He stayed a while longer and the two had a surprisingly enjoyable chat. Alfred had quite the wit to him, and he did love battling wits.

"Congratulations bu- Alfred, you've significantly charmed me enough to leave your books alone for the time being,” He stood up and placed his hat back on top of his head that was previously sitting on the table. “This was the most fun I’ve had in quite awhile. I may have to return just for another jousting match. Pip pip.” And with that he walked through a shadow door and disappeared.

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

Alfred watched as the man, Shade, left in a swift of smokey shadows. He wasn’t quite sure if he should be worried or not. The man did say he might return. But in the end he hadn’t really taken anything. Everything about their interaction screamed that Shade was doing what he was doing out of both boredom and a collector’s will.

Alfred stood up and quickly cleaned up the dishes the two of them had used. Adding in the milk first, the man must either be trying too hard or really must be that old. And considering what goes on in Gotham, he wouldn’t doubt that Shade really could be that old.

After cleaning the cups, Alfred was quick to make his way downstairs to the batcave. If there was anything about Shade in the world, the batcomputer would find it. He was sure that Master Bruce wouldn’t mind him using it for such a task, after all, Master Drake did download quite a few games onto it.

The only sound in the batcave was the clicking of keys and the small clicking of bats. It didn’t take long for the batcomputer to find what Alfred was looking for.

Shade used to be a criminal in Keystone fighting Jay Garrick before the worlds merged. He retired shortly before the event, and came out of retirement to battle with the other Flashes that popped up. There is no known birth record, but Opal City records show of him buying property in the city during its development.

So Shade was that old. Possibly older than he lets on. Yes, Alfred could see how living that long could get boring. And how it would be easier for Shade to just steal rather than go through people. People could be quite a hassle.

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

It was a week later that Alfred saw Shade again. Alfred, doing his typical butler duties, was standing in the lobby while he waited for Bruce Wayne to come out of the theatre. It wasn’t a show Wayne particularly wanted to go to, but he had to keep his social standing up. It was there that a glimpse of black caught Alfred’s eye.

Oh, it was Shade. What an unexpected meetup.

“Come to steal some priceless stage prop? Or perhaps take an actor for ransom?”

Shade turned on his heel toward the direction of the voice, and gave a laugh. “As strange as it may seem I do delight in the occasional show without causing mayhem or pulling off a crime.”

"Why, how fortunate to meet in better circumstances, Mr. Thief."

"I could say the same, Butler."

"But did you come alone?"

"...Yes"

Alfred noticed the split second of hesitation, but didn’t push it. If Shade was going to try anything, there’d be someone there to stop him. Besides, Alfred had read up on Shade as much as he could. Shade like to make a show out of his crimes to attract the attention of the hero he intended to fight. Usually, he only did the crime just to attract the hero, if Shade had plans to try anything he would of already of done them.

It’s not like Shade ever fought with anyone other than the Flash anyway.

For a criminal, Shade certainly did have a lot of honor. Which was something that surprised him, considering most of the Gotham Rogues and Metropolis villains.

“I must thank you before I forget. That vendor was able to retrieve me those books I was after. Though stealing them would of been much cheaper.”

“I’m sure it would have, but you’d also have your face on wanted posters in Gotham. Then how would you be able to enjoy your casual nights out without crime?”

“Touché.”

At that moment Bruce Wayne came out. Shade tipped his hat to Alfred and moved away.

“Who was that Alfred?”

“Just someone I sparked a conversation with to pass the time.”

The two left, and the doors closed just in time for Alfred to miss the breath that Shade was holding.

[jujumin-translates]

Sakuya Sakuma | [SSR] MANKAI Crepe | A Crepe Bouquet - Part 1

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Citron: Good afternoon, Madam! You seem in a good blued today~!

Fukatsu: Oh, you’re trying to say, “in a good mood”! You’re still as funny as ever Cito-chan.

Citron: Thank you!

Citron: By the way. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?

Fukatsu: Ah, right, right, I have an acquaintance who runs a crepe wagon. They usually hire students to work, but…

Fukatsu: They’re having staffing issues because all those kids are going to be out for exams.

Citron: Oh, that sounds like a problem!

Fukatsu: So they’re looking for people to help fill in for the time being.

Fukatsu: Hey, Cito-chan, do you know anyone? You must have lots of friends and acquaintances, right?

Fukatsu: They’ll of course pay you for it, and there’s a training period, so there’s no need to worry if you don’t have experience.

Citron: If you are the one asking me to do it, I must accept, Madam! I’ll talk to everyone at the dorms about it first.

Fukatsu: Thank you so much! By the way, here’s the shop name--.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Ah, Citron-san!

Citron: Oh, Sakuya! I thought you were working until this evening.

Sakuya: The shop was pretty calm, so we closed up at lunch. That happens a lotta days.

Sakuya: Where have you been, Citron-san?

Citron: Having tea with one of the ladies I know! She was asking for some help.

Sakuya: Oh, really? I hope she can get that help soon…

Citron: I need to talk to everyone else about helping! I want to talk to you and the others when we get back.

Sakuya: Got it!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: Mh~, this pear crepe is supes tasty and good! The line in front of the wagon was like, way too long, but it was totally worth it~!

Banri: I usually just get them from the usual cafe, but the sweet potato and the chai latte one were both hella good.

Director: Wow, they all sound so good. I’ll have to go some time.

Sakuya: We’re home.

Citron: We are home!

Director: Welcome back.

Sakuya: Waah, those crepes look really good!

Kazunari: Yeah! I swung by a crepe shop on my way home from uni and bought ‘em~.

Kazunari: There was this super cute, inste-able wagon and they all looked totally good! Major hype around that place!

Sakuya: Now I kinda wanna go there too…!

Kazunari: BTW, the store’s name is “Epoch de Crepe”--.

Citron: Aha! That’s exactly the store!

Director: Eh?

Banri: What is it?

Citron: I need to talk to you about that crepe shop!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: I gotcha~, so that’s why there was a poster on the side of the wagon looking for part-time workers.

Director: From what I’ve heard, that place is pretty popular, so the shortage is pretty severe. I’d love to help out myself, but… Could you guys do it?

Citron: It was one of the madams’ requests, so of course I will!

Citron: But I heard that they need around three people to help, so I’m not enough.

Sakuya: Well then, let me help too!

Sakuya: My part-time jobs haven’t been very busy lately, so I think I should be able to do it.

Citron: Thank you, Sakuya. That will be much help!

Banri: That said, can you guys really help out at a crepe shop?

Citron: You can count on us! I’ll be able to handle anyone in line!

Sakuya: I do customer service and cashiering at some of my regular part-time jobs, and I’m sure I'll be able to adjust my shifts, so I’ll be fine.

Banri: Nah, not just the customer service part…

Citron: Anyway, two is not enough. So I must find someone else!

Kazunari: Ah, wait a sec, RonRon!

Kazunari: I think Settzer said earlier that he’s relatively free right now. So maybe he could help ya out…!?

Citron: I would be blightly nervous if you came, Banri! But I’d love to have you join us!

Banri: Well, whatever. And it’s “slightly”.

Director: Well then, I guess we’ve got our three!

Banri: Yep.

Sakuya: I’ll do my best!

Citron: Now that it’s decided, let’s do our best to bring in even more customers than the usual workers~!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Citron: Hello! We’re the people Fukatsu-san sent to help.

Sakuya: We’ll do our best!

Banri: What he said.

Shop Owner: I’ve been waiting on this, so I’m really thankful for the help! Let me start by explaining the schedule.

Shop Owner: I don’t think you’ll be able to bake the crepes right away, so you’ll just be in a training period for a while--.

Citron: Eh?

Sakuya: Bake?

Banri: Ugh… I told you you wouldn’t be able to do this.

[theclouddiver]

Lost in Memories

Summary: You are about to move to a new home with your husband Yoo Youngjae when you discover your old diary from years ago. Reading through the entries of the diary, you find yourself lost in the memories of your first love, Jung Daehyun. Pairing: B.A.P Jung Daehyun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst A/N: Scenes in the past are italicized Word Count: 3,100

“(Y/N), are you ready? The moving van is waiting!”

“Yes, Youngjae, I am coming right now!” I picked up the last box in the house. Inside were a lot of my personal belongings that I did not want to be crushed inside the big truck with all the furniture and bigger boxes – my husband Youngjae had already lost his favorite floor lamp which was not properly wrapped and fell to the ground.

In my haste, I forgot to seal the box I was carrying and heard an object fall to the floor. With a sigh, I put down the box and reached for the item that had fallen out. My heart skipped a beat when I realized what it was: my old diary which I hadn’t read in years. Although Youngjae was waiting for me outside, I could not resist to open the notebook that was so familiar and strange to me at the same time. “Dear Diary, you won’t believe what I am about to tell you!! Jung Daehyun, the boy I have liked since middle school, has confessed to me today!” I did not need to read on for my mind to be flooded with memories. That day, a cold and rainy day in March, I went to high school like usually. I did not expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, but after class, Daehyun asked me to go on a walk with him. For a moment, I thought he was joking. Who would want to be outside in such bad weather? He was serious though. Daehyun and I had been friends for a long time: I met him in middle school and since we both liked the same kind of music, we soon started to hang out. Something about his humorous, careless and bright personality made me fall for him in no time. I could hardly believe my luck when we both passed the entrance exam for the same high school. Since then, we had been very close. 

After I agreed to go on a walk with him, he suddenly became quiet. No matter what topic I started – even his favorite one, food – I could not get more than a few words out of him. When the two of us were crossing a bridge, Daehyun suddenly stopped and turned his back towards me. “(Y/N)… There is something I want to tell you. I can’t stand it anymore. You are my friend, but I hate it.” That’s it. He wanted to end our friendship. Was there something I had done wrong? Did he find new, better friends? Or was I simply not good enough for him anymore? “The truth is… I like you. I have liked you for a while now, but I did not realize it until now,” Daehyun said and turned around. His eyes were boring into mine, full of determination now. “I will treat you well, take care of you and stay by your side, always. There is no one else who understands and supports me the way you do. Please, (Y/N), will you be my girlfriend?” I was left speechless. I slowly raised my hand to squeeze my cheek and check if this was another of my stupid dreams. My face hurt. But how could this be real? Daehyun had been popular with girls for as long as I could remember, and only a few weeks ago he broke up with his girlfriend. Still in shock, I nodded my head ever so slightly. Daehyun beamed at me, and the next thing I remembered were his strong arms wrapping around me and pulling me towards his chest. “Thank you… thank you!”, he whispered. “I know I have been a fool not realizing that the girl I want the most had been standing right in front of me the entire time. It took me three terrible relationships to find out.” A faint smile appeared on my face. How full of hope and innocence I had been back then! I turned a few pages of my old diary and found another entry: “Dear Diary, I just returned from a date with Daehyunnie. You could never guess where he took me: the ferris wheel at the fair in the center of the city! Have you ever heard of the saying that when you kiss a person when the passenger car is at the very top, you will stay together forever?”

That’s right. My first kiss.

I remembered my excitement when I was getting ready for my boyfriend to pick me up at the café across the street of my apartment. Should I wear a pretty dress? Or a cool pair of jeans and a sweater? It was so hard to decide! In the end, I settled on a blue dress and white cardigan - something cute yet comfortable. I did not have time to change again anyway. The ringing of my phone made me startle, and I quickly ran down the stairs and saw Daehyun who was already waiting in front of the coffee shop. “D-daehyun!” I smiled at him nervously. Although we had been together for almost three months now, my heart was still beating fast whenever I saw him. “You look beautiful, (Y/N)” Daehyun took my hand and led me down the street. I had no idea where we were going since my boyfriend had kept it a secret. I did not bother to ask because I knew he liked to surprise me. Fortunately, I did not have to wait for too long to find out where we were heading: the huge ferris wheel of the fair could be seen from far away and I could easily guess that the fair was our destination. With a guy like Daehyun, it is nearly impossible not to take the scariest and wildest rides. Only when I suggested to sit down for a few minutes did he get the hint that I had had enough for today. “But, we haven’t gone to the ferris wheel yet! Can we pleeease go?” Seriously, his puppy eyes were irresistible. And the ferris wheel was probably the least action-packed ride anyway. Therefore, I practically did not have a choice but to agree. I did not regret entering the passenger car. Nobody could see us up there, and I felt free of all worries. There was only Daehyun and I. I rested my head on his shoulder and enjoyed the beautiful view of Busan. The sun was just beginning to set – our timing to go on this ride had been perfect. “(Y/N), you have something on your nose. Here, let me wipe it away for you.” Instead of doing so when I turned to him, Daehyun put my hands into his and leaned forward. Before I knew what was going on, his soft lips brushed mine ever so gently. I felt butterflies rising in my stomach and wished that this kiss would never end. I could have sworn that I had never felt as happy as in this very moment.

Even now, many years later, the memories were as fresh as if I had gone to the fair only yesterday. Things between Daehyun and me had seemed perfect back then. Every day, I woke up with a smile on my face. Can you believe that I was even excited to go to school? I really was in love. But things were not meant to stay that beautiful forever. An entry towards the end of my diary recalled the time when our relationship started to gradually fall apart.

“Dear diary, I think that something is wrong with Daehyunnie. He has been very quiet the last few days, and not even music and food could cheer him up. I wonder if something happened to him. The bad thing is, he won’t tell me what is bothering him!” It was me who suggested to meet in the café across the street. Only recently, the leaves on the trees had begun to turn colorful and the wind started to blow cold air into people’s faces when they were out on the streets. That’s why I thought that it might be a good idea to meet in a place where it was warm and cozy. I was sure that Daehyunnie would be open with me once we started talking over a hot cup of coffee and some cheesecake. I bobbed up and down on my toes, looking left and right, trying to spot my boyfriend in the crowd. I had already been waiting for 20 minutes, and I was afraid that he was not able to find the café. How odd – he usually did not run late. By now, my feet and hands were freezing cold, and I could not stand the fall weather any longer. With a sigh, I reached for the door knob and entered the small but pretty coffee shop. I went to the counter and ordered two caffè lattes, as well as a piece of cheesecake.

After the waiter handed me my drinks and cake, I sat down at a table in the far corner of the room. Another 10 minutes passed until, finally, Daehyun’s familiar head appeared at the door. When his eyes found mine, he quickly made his way to my table. “I am so sorry, I was caught up in something,” he apologized and I could tell that he was distracted. I only gave him an understanding smile and gestured him to sit down. Without a word, he reached for the cheese cake and started eating.

Trying to start a conversation, I asked: “Have you seen the movie posters outside? There is this new action movie that is coming out soon, and I was wondering if you still wanted to see it together. I heard that there are still tickets available for this Saturday.” “Mh, sure”, was all I could get out of him. I waited for him to reply something, but Daehyun only ate his cheesecake. He did not even look at me. I could not hold it in any longer, and I blurted out: “Hyunnie, I know something is wrong. You haven’t really talked to me in a week, and whenever I start a conversation, you either avoid the topic or don’t answer. At school, you don’t focus in class and even your friends say that you seem out of it these days. I tried everything to cheer you up – take you out for dinner, help you with school work, I even wrote you little notes every day. But nothing will work! I am worried about you. You know, I am always here to listen to you. No matter what it is – even if you killed someone – I won’t turn my back on you!” At my last sentence, his eyes lightened up a bit and he chuckled. “No worries, (Y/N). I did not kill anyone.” “What is it then? What makes you so distracted that you won’t even talk to me? Didn’t we promise that we would always tell each other when something is wrong?” I looked at him with sad eyes. Daehyun sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s nothing… I guess I have just been stressed with school work recently. You know that college entrance exams are coming up, and we have to prepare for them soon.” I nodded at him, being aware that he only told me part of the truth. There was something more, something I just could not get out of him. I didn’t have a clue what it could be, but it had to be something very, very serious.

I swallowed hard after I had finished reading. Something inside of me stirred, as if awakened from a long slumber, but I could not identify the feeling. I slowly turned to the last page of my diary. I knew perfectly well what was written on it. “Dear diary,

Today is the most terrible, disgusting, sick and desperate I have ever felt in my life. I don’t even have the strength to write a full entry. Daehyun broke up with me.”

>>We need to talk. Meet me in 10 in front of your apartment.<<

These few words on my phone screen made me get goosebumps. Since Daehyun and I had talked in the café, the situation between the two of us had not changed much. He was as quiet as ever, and I had given up on cheering him up. Now, I simply showed him that I was there if he needed me. The fact that he wanted to meet where my parents could easily see him made me even more uncomfortable. I jumped up from my bed and quickly threw on a thick sweater and hat. It was almost winter now, and I did not want to catch a cold. My mother asked me where I was going, and I replied that I only wanted to go down to the convenience store across the street to get a few vitamins. She wouldn’t mind anything that helped me study better. When I arrived at the door, Daehyun was already waiting for me. The blank look on his face made me get an ominous feeling. As soon as I came to a halt in front of him, he started to speak: “My parents know.” “Know about wha-…”

“Us.”

I didn’t know what to say. At the beginning of our relationship, Daehyun and I had agreed to not let our parents know since they might object to us being together. I finally whispered: “H-how did they find out?” “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that they are against our relationship. They want me to break up with you and focus on studying. Otherwise…” “Otherwise what?” “They will send me to study abroad in America. And I would not be able to fulfill my dream of becoming a singer.” My lips began to tremble and tears started to well up in my eyes. “S-since when?” My voice sounded like the voice of a stranger. “They discovered about two weeks ago. At first, I thought that I could just continue to keep it a secret like I had done before. But they read our messages and got very angry. Then they came up with the idea to send me to America… I am so, so sorry.” By the time he finished his explanation, tears streamed down my face and my body was shaking. I just stood there, my mind blank. “Hey, (Y/N)… Look at me. Please don’t cry” My boyfriend raised his hand to cup my cheeks, but I flinched. I couldn’t believe he was so calm in this kind of situation, as if he had never cared about “us”. I finally managed to raise my head and stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t cry? You expect me not to cry?! You are such a fool, Jung Daehyun! I love you and care about you more than anything else in the world, and you tell me not to cry when I am about to lose you?” I was almost screaming now, but I could not care less that my parents and neighbors could potentially hear me. I took a deep breath. I yanked off the necklace he had bought me a few months earlier, when we were still the happiest couple on Earth. A thousand things I wanted to say buzzed around in my head, but I could not bring my tongue to move. It must have been an eternity that I simply stood there, staring at the man I was still so much in love with. I felt bad for blaming him since it was not his fault that his parents had found out. I was shocked and angry at the situation in general. We should have been more careful, we should have met in less crowded places, we should have done everything differently. Now, there was no way to change the situation. I did not want him to leave for America. I knew how much he wanted to become a singer, and I would never be good enough for his parents anyway. Very likely, my parents would have reacted in the same way. For some reason, I could neither calm down nor bring myself to say something, anything. I averted my eyes from the face that I had learned to pick out of a crowd of hundreds of people and that would always bring a smile on mine when I saw it. I stomped away into the dark night, not sure where my feet were taking me. I slowly closed my diary. I took a few deep breaths, staring into nothing. On the day Daehyun broke up with me, I considered killing myself. Jumping down a bridge, swallowing pills or cutting my veins with a needle. Fortunately, these thoughts only passed my mind for a short time and I came to my senses quickly after. Nevertheless, I cried for days, and my parents were seriously worried about me. I did not eat, I did not sleep, I did not meet friends. All I did was studying like crazy and playing the violin. Music and my dream to attend Seoul’s best university kept me going. 

Most unbearable had been going to class and seeing Daehyun sitting in front of me every day. Although he had tried to talk to me several times, I ignored and avoided him completely. I had still loved him, and seeing him tore my heart into pieces every single time. It took a very, very long time for me to recover. “(Y/N), what is taking you so long? Come on, the moving truck won’t wait for you forever.” My husband’s voice tore me from my thoughts and pulled me back into reality. “Sorry, I am coming right now!” I hastily put the diary back into the box I had put down. This time, I made sure that I closed the packet securely. Youngjae was waiting for me in the doorway and frowned worriedly when he saw me coming down the stairs. I gave him my warmest smile. Lots of time had passed since my relationship with Daehyun. I went to the university of my dreams, got a good job in a private company and fell in love again. Right now, Youngjae was the most important person in my life and I couldn’t be happier. We were about to move into a bigger, better home and even talked about starting a family. Still… the memories of your first love will stay with you forever and will never completely stop to be part of you.

[candy-corps]

A Hug

Ezayne belongs to @mygardenofmuses

She had a lot of people who’d like to spend time with her … That’s what she told Audrey before. Now though, they seemed an eternity away. Shoulders, ears and wings kept low, Belle just strolled through the streets until she simply bumped into the most sweet smelling person for comfort.

“Eep! Sorry, Bru—eeeeh?”

The bat wings made him think of his nocturnal bestie, but there was something off about this new individual.

A pink-ish bat? Could it be a bat girl? A Bruce clone of some sort? Perhaps a female of his species, looking for a male to mate with?? Definitely he’d have to call Bruce later…

Thoughts raced on his mind, as he rushed to pick up the bag of groceries which had fallen down from his grip. “Excuse me, with all this stuff I hadn’t seen you, Miss! Who are you?” Ezayne asked, giving her a kind smile.

“Sorry.” It wasn’t her name, but it was what she felt - she didn’t mean to have him drop his bag! Now that he picked it up though and the content was - thank goodness not spread all over the place. Belle tried to approach again. Careful this time.

“It’s OK, really, I was distracted as well.” Ezayne smiled and held the bag closely so he wouldn’t drop it again.

“I’m Ezayne. Ezayne Charles Raymond Moriarty, but my friends call me Ez. Who are you, miss?” he asked, offering her his hand for a handshake as greeting.

Ignoring the outstretched hand, Belle stepped back to Ezaynes personal bubble again - not attempting to lean against him this time, but yes showing the intent.

“I’m Belle” she replied sadly.

Ezayne was a little slow for these things. He assumed she never had seen a human with blue hair. The thought made him smile. Maybe she was just curious about it. But something in her voice confused him.

“Nice to meet you, Belle… Are you alright? You seem sad.” He opened his arms a little, mostly with the idea of offering her support. Maybe she was ill? Maybe she needed help? He didn’t know yet.

“M-hm” she hummed, just to affirm. Ezayne’s silent invite didn’t pass unnoticed. So very glad to be able to, Belle rested her head against his chest. Finally Relaxing.

“Eeeerrr…” Ezayne was now very confused. He didn’t expect her to just lean on him like that. But again, all bats were a bit clingy, so… perhaps this was a cultural thing. He didn’t push her just yet, letting her rest in case she needed to do so.

“We’ve just met and usually I don’t let people lean on me so fast, but… are you OK? Did someone hurt you?”

Muscular. She was still sad, but the aspect made her feel a little bit better. Belle sighed. “I lost somebody” she explained shortly.

“Oh nooo… Sorry about that. So sorry.” Ezayne actually hugged her now, trying to comfort her for a moment before letting go. “I know how it feels, when people you love dies. But eh, maybe it can’t fix it but a drink sure helps. Come to the cabaret with me, bet my girlfriend can help you as well~!”

“I didn’t loose her like that but … it may help” Belle agreed. Kindness. She had never expected to find some that soon. This city was magical, really. Belle kept leaning on Ezayne as that one pulled back, not ready to let go right now. Or ever.

Being clingy surely was a bat-people thing. At this point Ezayne didn’t try to stop her, pretty convinced she’d try to keep clinging to him.

“Hum, were you dumped? That’s the second worst I can think of. And I understand that kind of situation, too. It’s really sad.” he rubbed gently her arm to comfort her. “But don’t worry. It gets better.”

It would get better. It was already. It would just not stop being sad. Belle stayed like that for another while, so glad the other let her, until she remembered she was being quite rude. Stealing his time …

“We’ll be there soon and I’ll have to open the door, Belle. Mind if I use my powers to lift you up? That way I’ll get one free hand to work with.” Ezayne asked kindly, trying not to disturb her.

He felt really sorry for the poor batgirl. Hopefully her life would get better once she met certain bat Ezayne knew very well…

Mh? “Oh, I can give you space” Belle promised. That being, she simply shifted to his side. While still clinging, she’d be fine with a ‘one arm’ hug when it was more convinient for the nice man.

“…Alright, but… you’re still clinging to me, Belle… Can you let me go when we get there, please? People in the cabaret will think weird of me, and they think my hair is weird enough.” Ezayne tried to joke about it. Maybe some laughter would do her some good.

“We can still hold hands, right?” she pleaded, looking up at him.

“I guess holding hands is OK.” Ezayne chuckled, amused by her offer. “At least, until we get there. See that signal in the distance, the one with the lady with feathery wings? The cabaret is right there!”

Sign? What sign?

Belle looked over to where Ezayne pointed at, and eventually spotted the figure. “Is pretty” she noticed, while slowly letting go. “These are natural? Or … “

She had to ask. And she had to stretch the ‘holding hands’; holding Ezaynes whole arm instead, too.

“No, those are fake wings. The lady of that banner is Miss Lucille, the original owner of the cabaret. She always wore that dress in the concerts. Sadly she left the city a while back. I’ve been taking care of the cabaret in her absence.” Ezayne explained. He was OK with arm holding. Somehow it felt less intimate than hugs or holding hands, gestures he usually saved for Neela, Amil and close friends.

She was into cosplay then? “Seems to be an interesting woman” Belle gave back, eyes still on the poster. “I’d love to meet her“ she went on, her tail waving a bit from side to side.

“She was. Though I haven’t seen her since last year. She usually travels through the portals to go back to her world to take care of her aunt. Poor woman is so old and sickly that Lucille rarely shows up in the cabaret. But in the meantime, we have some interesting people in the cabaret.”

Ezayne felt really proud talking about his business. It gave him life. “First of all, my girlfriend Neela. She’s the most beautiful, talented and graceful dancer you can imagine. She’s currently expecting so I encourage her to take a taxi, skip work and go home when the babies are playing too much.” A light blush came to his face. Just to think of their future children, he felt super happy.

Babys. Well that was a foolproof topic to brighten up her mood. “Oh, I miss being pregnant” Belle replied; her free hand touching her belly absently - a thing out of habit.

“When’s she expecting?” Belle asked with a smile.

“You mean, when will the babies born? Sometime in August. Which is funny because her birthday is also in August!” he chuckled. “We already have a son, Amil, and he’s so careful with his mother now. I’m so proud of them.”

He looked back at Belle, arching one eyebrow. “So you have children of your own, too?”

“Mmhm” Belle hummed affirmative. She really was feeling better with all the distractive topic. “I got a new one just yesterday. So cute.” She kept to cling on Ezayne’s arm, but really seemed at peace with the situation for now.

“Wait what - did you just give birth yesterday and you can walk already????” Ezayne asked, impressed. Belle was really strong if she didn’t need any rest after something so hardcore. Though there were chances that the bat biology worked in ways way different from humans.

“Adoption is an option” Belle replied right away with a small laugh. “I didn’t give birth for a … year.” Yes, it was Reese’ first birthday soon. And it was seriously about time to get pregnant again. He was growing so quickly.

“Ooh, right! Hahaha, sorry, you’re very right. My son Amil was adopted too. Adoption is one beautiful thing.” Ezayne said, clapping his hands once. He lifted his arm a little and pointed to the beautiful glass-stained door nearby.

“There it is! That’s the cabaret. Probably Sator is already inside. He’s the barman. Do you want a drink, Belle?”